My Name Is River (9 page)

I smile at Gram. “I can't wait to show you.” Then I remember Pastor Henry's invitation (even though she'll say no). “Billy's dad invited us to his church tomorrow. He's the pastor, so everyone calls him Pastor Henry. He said he'd give us a ride.”

“Well, that's a nice invitation, Sugar Pie. You tell him we'll go.”

I can't think of any other explanation for Gram saying yes, so I start worrying about aliens again.

After dinner I clear the table, and Gram washes, just like we did in Punxsutawney. Then before I know it, Gram looks like she's in ballet class and starts to relevé right in front of our kitchen sink while she's washing the tuna-noodle casserole dish. She raises up
high on her toes, then goes down flat, up high again, then down, and all the while she's smiling like a delicate ballerina. There's just one problem. She's not. I'm pretty sure her physical therapist must have something to do with this (I just hope she doesn't start wearing a tutu).

11

The Worrying Thing

A
t exactly ten twenty-five Sunday morning, the Whippoorwills' big white van (which is the size of a bus) pulls in our driveway. Gram and I hurry out the door (well, I hurry and Gram waddles).

Pastor Henry rolls down his window to greet us, so I introduce Gram. “Gram, this is Pastor Henry. Pastor Henry, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Nuthatch.” And to her surprise, I do it so eloquently that she freezes, speechless (and Gram is never speechless). Then she shakes her head and whispers, “Well, I'll be!”

Next thing I know, Billy jumps out, opens the van door for us, and pulls it shut once we're in (the whole while his right arm is swinging back and forth like a pendulum). I forgot to tell Gram about his arm. I wonder if she noticed.

As Gram and I squish together in the second row of seats, we're instantly surrounded by a flock of little Whippoorwills. Every one of them wants to sit on Gram's lap, and she makes sure each one does (I bet Mrs. Whippoorwill already likes Gram).

Pastor Henry's church feels real comfortable, like a bathtub filled with warm sudsy water. And no one's dressed up fancy. Most of the men are wearing jeans, and hardly any of the ladies are
wearing dresses. But Gram and Mrs. Whippoorwill are. I'm wearing a skirt (only because Gram made me). It used to be a maxi and reached all the way to my toes. But since I've had it for three years or more, it's directly at my knees. I hate wearing it, but Gram says I'm a young lady now and need to start looking like one. The only good thing about this skirt is that it's made of denim (which is as close to a pair of jeans as Gram would let me get).

Everybody must know everybody in Pastor Henry's church because everybody's giving hugs to everybody else. All the little kids are running around playing and hiding from each other, and the older ones are huddled in a group talking. Billy and I decide to sit with the grown-ups. Mrs. Whippoorwill pours Gram a cup of coffee, and then Gram lets me drink some just like she does at home.

Pastor Henry's church smells delicious because at the same table that has the coffeepot, there are seven very big boxes of donuts. There are all kinds—cream-filled, jelly-filled, cinnamon swirls, glazed, sugar-coated, and fried cakes (which are my favorite). And hanging right above that table is a huge picture of Jesus standing all by himself, wearing a pair of sandals and a long, white thing that looks something like a bathrobe (but not exactly). He's holding his arms stretched out wide in front of him, so it actually looks like he's guarding the donuts. Maybe Pastor Henry hung the picture there on purpose so no one takes more than they should, which is pretty smart. I don't think anyone would have the guts to take more donuts than they should if Jesus is watching. I decide to take one fried cake covered with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles (I hope that's okay with Jesus).

Gram and I are meeting everyone in Birdsong this morning because Billy says this is what everyone in Birdsong does on Sunday mornings. They come to hang with Pastor Henry and have free coffee and donuts.

Pretty soon the piano lady begins playing, and everyone moseys into the big part of the church, where there are beautiful stained glass windows. One of them is boarded up. Billy said someone threw a rock through it (which means Birdsong has at least one bad person). All of a sudden, I imagine Robert Killdeer holding his fishing pole in one hand, and instead of his beat-up tackle box in the other, he's gripping a rock. I never met anyone who gave me the creeps like he does.

Gram and I sit beside all the Whippoorwills, except for Pastor Henry, of course. He gets to stand on the stage so everyone can see him. I wonder if God can see him too.

The benches we're sitting on are in rows, and they're made of wood. But at least they have red velvety cushions on them. But they're not very thick, so you actually sink down to the wood. When I sneak a peek at Gram, she's grinning ear to ear, looking more comfortable than ever (I guess having a big bottom like Paddles can come in handy).

Once everybody finds a spot to sit, Pastor Henry says a prayer. “This morning, Lord, we want everything to be for you. Let our thoughts, our songs, our church, and our community be all for you. Bless our time together with your holy presence. Amen.” Then he asks everyone to stand and turn to page one hundred thirty seven in our hymnal (I figure that's the blue book hanging on the back of the bench in front of me because everyone else is reaching for their blue book too).

The piano lady begins a song called “It Is Well with My Soul.” Everyone joins in, even Gram. I just listen because I've never heard this song on the radio before, and I can't read music any more than I can read chicken scratch.

Then out of the blue, I start thinking about Gram's physical therapist, so I cross my fingers and make a wish that she doesn't start to relevé right in the middle of church while everyone's singing
about their wellness and their soul. But I must have crossed them too late, because by the second verse she's up on her toes. “Really, Gram?” I whisper (probably a little too loud for being in church).

Then Gram whispers back (even louder), “Don't you worry, Sugar Pie. Nobody's gonna notice.” So I try not to and close my eyes to concentrate on the words while everyone sings them. I try to figure out what they mean. “When peace like a river attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well, with my soul.' ” Then I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but the song ended.

Pastor Henry begins his lecture. “This morning I want to share some key points from the book of Matthew, where Jesus talks to us about worrying. He tells us not to worry about our life. Wow! Isn't that a challenge? He tells us not to worry about the food we'll eat, what we'll drink, or the clothes we'll wear. He tells us to consider the birds, to think about how they live. They don't bother storing food for themselves because they know our heavenly Father feeds them. God provides them with food and shelter. God created birds. And he takes care of them. And since we are worth more than birds, we can be sure our heavenly Father will take care of us. Jesus also makes it clear that we cannot add a single moment to our lives by worrying, so there is no sense in fretting. Therefore,” Pastor Henry tells everyone, “don't worry! Our heavenly Father knows everything we need.”

It sounds like Pastor Henry must like birds as much as Billy. And after hearing what Pastor Henry just read, it sounds like God probably likes birds too (he must since he goes around feeding them). And about the worrying thing, maybe I didn't need to worry about Billy falling over the edge and into the river because it sounds like no one can make anyone's life longer by worrying. Not even by a moment. I had no idea going to church could make you think so much.

When church is over, Pastor Henry stands at the door and
says goodbye to every single person and shakes their hand. He even knows everyone's name. While he's busy saying goodbye, Gram and I help Mrs. Whippoorwill and Billy clean up. We vacuum donut crumbs, wipe coffee spills, push in chairs, and then straighten all the blue songbooks (which takes quite a while because Billy says they have to be perfectly straight).

As soon as Pastor Henry brings me and Gram home, we get right to work on our chores. They actually haven't changed much from the ones we did back in Punxsutawney, except that I don't have to sweep down thirteen stairs anymore. That's because now we live in a one-story house. And now we have only one bathroom to clean (which most people would be grateful for). But honestly I'd rather clean two than have to wait all day for Gram to come out of the one we do have. Some days I think she's fallen in and accidently flushed herself away (every now and then, I go and check to make sure she hasn't).