The Stranger in the Manger
by Wendy Nikel
After what happened to the fellowship hall last spring, you’d think Beverley would have learned to be more careful about whom she invited to church, but as you can see from the current state of the narthex, we have once again had an Incident-with-a-capital-I, and as head of the Martha Society, I’ve again been asked to write an insert for the bulletin to explain.
Yesterday, as you all know, was Christmas Eve, and the women of the Martha Society had all gathered together—save for Bonnie, who was visiting her son and grandkids in Georgia, and Irene, who’d claimed she had a head cold. Regardless, the rest of us had met before the evening service to stuff the children’s Christmas bags with popcorn balls and oranges and trim the wax from the candles and dust the cobwebs off the old wooden manger, while the sweet little lambs from Sunday School practiced the music for their nativity program in the small meeting room adjoining the narthex.
We were just setting out the last of t…
After what happened to the fellowship hall last spring, you’d think Beverley would have learned to be more careful about whom she invited to church, but as you can see from the current state of the narthex, we have once again had an Incident-with-a-capital-I, and as head of the Martha Society, I’ve again been asked to write an insert for the bulletin to explain.
Yesterday, as you all know, was Christmas Eve, and the women of the Martha Society had all gathered together—save for Bonnie, who was visiting her son and grandkids in Georgia, and Irene, who’d claimed she had a head cold. Regardless, the rest of us had met before the evening service to stuff the children’s Christmas bags with popcorn balls and oranges and trim the wax from the candles and dust the cobwebs off the old wooden manger, while the sweet little lambs from Sunday School practiced the music for their nativity program in the small meeting room adjoining the narthex.
We were just setting out the last of t…
