I had Dollface for the afternoon yesterday. She was in good spirits for the first part but then she fell asleep for about an hour and woke up snotty nosed and crying. Too much Halloween?
Dad also stopped by yesterday and I talked to him about the preacher situation. I feel immensely better about the whole thing. He reminded me that what we do know about this pastor is that he is down to earth and fits in well here in the country. He said that he was glad that the preacher wanted to talk to me because a preacher’s job is to reach out to people during life changing events. That part of it was to make people feel good about their relationship with God, not to drive them away or make them feel bad. Also, that I could get up and walk out if I started to feel badly and that I for sure should look for a different church home if I am made to feel uncomfortable.
He also told me to remind the preacher that I was baptized in our Lutheran church by my maternal great-grandfather along side our own preacher at that time. My great-grandfather was a Methodist pastor. Apparently, this created a kerfuffle with the church. I guess the pastor had problems with allowing that in his church but my dad told him that Grandpa was going to baptise his girl either in our church along side the pastor or in our home without him. The pastor relented and allowed the dual baptism and I know it is a treasured memory of my mother’s. He also told me to tell the pastor that I was the first baby allowed to go up to communion with my parents because I’d cry if someone else held me. I guess after this happened a few times, my grandma prodded my mom to just go ahead and take me up there. She didn’t want to hear me cry. Guess Dad figures that with this history behind us, there’s no way the preacher will have a problem with me being an unmarried woman using frozen sperm from across the country and a kind donor’s eggs to get knocked up. Ha! Yep, we’re rebels and rulebreakers….take that conservative country church!
One of the local small churches had their sausage supper today. I love this tradition! My grandparents would make the rounds to a different church each Sunday and knew which one had home-made potatoes, which had the best sausage. I just love the sense of community. The sweet old ladies who proudly bring in their pies and then fuss over the dessert table. The younger people who work hard waiting tables and plates for carry outs. The men who fry the sausage and help park cars. I taught at the Lutheran school of the church that had home-made potatoes and I remember in the days before the supper a big group women in the basement who sat in a circle peeling potatoes and just gossiping away. My church has gotten so small we no longer have a sausage supper but when I was a young I helped in the kitchen and when I was older I waited tables. It was back breaking work but so fun.