. . . 2/3 of the deacons and the assistant minister are gone because someone’s fence went down and the cows got out.
. . . several deacons and over half the soprano section “carry.”
. . . the opening weekend of deer season is 1)Ladies Auxiliary Sunday and 2) acapella because the senior minister, associate, choir director, and organist have joined over half the choir and a large swath of the congregation out hunting.
. . . the choir newsletter includes rehearsal and performance news and schedules, prayer requests, and photos from game cameras.
. . . the gents at the coffee pot are discussing whether Peter and James would have done better as fishermen had they used trolling motors instead of sails.
. . . the Ladies Auxiliary makes all the money for the Emergency Relief Fund from their food booth at the county fair.
. . . when a new building and parking lot are added on, the new lot is striped for pickups (wider than standard spaces.)
. . . there are rumors that way back when, a meeting of the elders lasted until midnight because someone asked, “Was Jesus the only good shepherd?” and it took that long to settle the question.
. . . the preacher has an auxiliary fuel tank in his pickup because of home visits. (“Ten miles up the county blacktop, then eight miles up Country Road AA to the first cattle guard on the left. You’ll need to drop into four once you get onto the place. Go three miles, turn left at the Y . . .”)
. . . the choir director and one of the ministers are in a ferocious, brotherly, war with the senior deacon over who really got the biggest wild turkey in 2014. And they know that the vice president of the senior ladies sewing circle got a bird that beat all three of theirs, but “that’s different.”
Edited to add: Howdy and welcome to all y’all from Peter Grant’s blog! Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy what you find. 🙂
Cat Rotator's Quarterly 
“hey know that the vice president of the senior ladies sewing circle got a bird that beat all three of theirs, but “that’s different.”
Sure, ’cause she was using a bow ‘n arrow, on foot, without sight assist. _e.g._
The age old argument is whether light and fast, or slow and heavy, has better knockdown power.
The church has an annual “harvest dinner” potluck every fall, after hunting season is over.
The church cookbook has three venison sausage entries. There would have been four, but old Mrs. Olafsen took hers to the grave, and the surviving family members still want to kill her. 🙂
I still haven’t forgiven my grandmother for not writing down three of her recipes I especially enjoyed. She’s been dead since 1984. . .
I responded to this on my blog:
http://bayourenaissanceman.blogspot.com/2016/08/heh.html
Memories . . .
Oh yeah, country churches… Where you roll up your windows at harvest time, otherwise you’ll have a bushel of corn, beans, squash, etc. in the back seat after church!
Small town: where you lock your doors and close car windows ONLY during squash season.
Sounds like a good church to check out. 🙂
When working in Tennessee, I once gathered my shift of 60-odd people for the morning briefing. It was supposed to consist of a safety tip, news from higher up, etc. Instead, I opened it with “Alrighty! Now, as all y’all are aware, it’s zucchini season. And most of y’all remember I sprained my wrist and didn’t get to plant a garden this spring. So, just so you know, my car doors are unlocked. On to the safety tip!”
After the meeting, a nice young subordinate from the city grabbed one of the gals whose time off requests usually started with “Cow had a breech birth…” and said “What did she mean? Why were you laughing?”
Not two days later, there was a brisk farmer’s market trade going on in the parking lot before work. And yes, I did have zucchini show up in the backseat, along with cucumbers.
My dad did some preaching in West Virginia back in the early 60’s and he told me that asking directions to a place would get you sa response something like this:
“Head up the holler about 3 sees to the lightning-struck stump, hang a left another 2 sees until you get to where Ol’ Man Jones’s barn used to be and hook right there. Head on another see and it’ll be on the left. You can’t miss it!”
**
In case you wonder, a “see” is “how far you can see from there.”
I got a few like that when I was working in Georgia and trying to get to private or very small airports by road. ” . . . not the big church with the little cemetery but the little church with the big cemetery. Turn left there, then go past the Miller place with the sign sayin’ ‘Jones.’ Half a mile past that, turn onto the little road that’s not the driveway . . .”
And then there were spraying instructions that began with, “It’s the acres beside the acreage.”
I’m reminded (especially by the “where Ol’ Man Jone’s barn used to be” part of your directions) of a short poem I read in my youth:
Directions that are
Least specific
Always end with
“You can’t miss it!”
Yeah, Dad said that directions *always* ended with “You can’t miss it!” no matter how obscure and/or convoluted they were.
I miss small-town country churches and small town living. It goes both ways, though. I had to have a security clearance for my Air Force job. Took me calling my dad and explaining things to him and a few other relatives before anybody would tell them ANYTHING. 8^) They finally opened up, and I got the security clearance anyway.
That is the down side. “You’re a stranger” means anyone who has not lived in the area at least 20 years, or has two generations in the cemetery.