I swear, Debbie Hudson had to have the hairiest arms of any 8 year-old girl in the whole wide world. For some reason I found that fact especially fascinating while sitting in church. I would pull on them ever so slightly and giggle and she’d try to find hair on my bald arms to pull back and then pinch me hard when she couldn’t find any. Perhaps I just needed a little diversion to take my mind off how ungodly hot it could get in that little block buildin even with the window units on full blast. I couldn’t help but wish that girls could wear pants to church cause that short Sunday dress was allowin for contact between the back of my sweaty skinny thighs and that waxed wooden pew. The little paper fans were flappin’ all over that room and there I sat, slipping and sliding- just a little- enough to make what I thought were the funniest noises. I could barely resist the gigglin’ as it welled up in my head with nowhere to go, I thought I was just gonna bust. My eyes watered, my face turned red, and my lungs were burnin cause I couldn’t breathe for fear of makin noise. Good ol’ Debbie Hudson, my best friend in the whole wide world, remedied this problem with a sharp elbow to my ribs. I sat up straight and tried so hard not to cuss at her .

I flapped my little paper fan glued to a big fat tongue depressor and tried to look like I might be learnin somethin from a word of what he was sayin. I tried to read the words on the fan while I waved it back and forth and almost made myself sick. I finally made out a picture of a meadow and some sheep and Jesus Christ in a purple robe. The gold letters said "Courtesy of Gate’s Funeral Parlor." Completing that task, my mind began to drift away again. I tried to think of how I could turn my head and peek over the back of the bench without looking like a 3 year old hanging over the back of the pew.

I never did -so I just turned around real slow (it’s less obvious that way, ya know.) I caught the glaring eye of Mrs. Pauline Sauls; this was the biggest woman I ever saw, she sat 2 rows behind us, and her son, Emory and daughter, Anita was sittin’ on the pew in between. Mrs. Sauls was also the meanest teacher in school (with an affection for duct tape) and she was also our teacher this year, I did not want her thinkin’ bad of me cause I knew I’d catch it all year long if she did.

The new, young, preacher had obviously spent a lot of time preparin’ the sermon. You could tell he had got some schoolin’ somewhere. He was demonstratin’ the cleansin’ power of the blood of Jesus Christ with his hainkercheif and some kind of purple dye. He put spots all over that white hainkercheif and told us that this was what all our souls looked like right now-- full of sin. But IF we were babtized - and he dunked the hainkerchief in a bowl- the blood of Jesus Christ would erase all our sins and make our souls just like brand new. He pulled that clean white hainkerchief out of the bowl like a magician pullin’ a rabbit out of his black hat. I didn’t believe that it was Jesus’ blood in that bowl, looked like Tide to me. I shared this with Debbie and she clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent the sound from escapin’, I still don’t know if it was a giggle or a gasp but those stubby little fingers did little good in stiflin’ it. The preacher stopped, put down his hainkerchief and walked back behind the podium and inquired as to if anyone would be so kind as to come and sit between these two restless children. Needless to say, we both sat straight up and very still, hands crossed neatly in our laps. I guess we thought that if we didn’t move then we would be invisible. The fans stopped flappin’ and nobody moved. Again, I turned around, (real slow) and Mrs. Sauls was risin’ her large frame and gatherin’ up her pocket book, her Bible, and her little paper fan. As she slid that large expanse of an ayuss past her little husband I turned back around and stared at the choir organ. I envisioned the worse beatin of my life comin out of this and then I heard 2 little slaps and realized that she was sittin down between Emory and Anita.

Debbie and I exchanged glances, still too scared to grin, then we all stood up to sing Hymn number 34, first, third, and last stanzas. Needless to say, the sweat generated on that particular pew left a stain in that heavy wax finish that would last for years.