*****
Jawbreakers, Bubble Gum and Stick Candy
Rufus and the Willow Creek Church
It was pouring down rain late on a Saturday night as Rufus, the field mouse, passed through the little community of Willow Creek. I’ve got to get out of this rain, he thought as he looked around for a place to go. What’s this, he asked himself as he read the sign on the building. Willow Creek Church, he read to himself. This will do fine. He eased his way inside the church. Once inside, he looked around. The church was blanketed with darkness except for a little light from the streetlight that shined through the window onto the podium in the pulpit. As he felt his way through the darkness toward the front of the church, the silence of the church was broken.
“Ouch!” yelled Rufus when he banged his head on one of the pews.
“I’ve got to find an aisle,” he said as he rubbed his head, “and get out from under these pews.”
Slowly, he made his way to the front of the church. This is more like it,” he said to himself. Now, I need to find something to dry off with,” he thought.
He looked around and noticed a box of tissues under the altar. He hurriedly rushed over to the box of tissues, pulled two or three tissues from the box and dried his face and hands.
“That’s so much better,” he said. “Achoo,” he sneezed. “Now, let’s see. I need a place to take a nap,” he said as he looked up at the podium. He stretched, yawned and said, “Perfect, this will do just fine.”
Quickly, Rufus ran up the microphone cord and swung around to the door on the back of the podium. Carefully, he squeezed his way inside and stood on a shelf.
“Now,” he said, “for some light.”
Rufus slightly propped the door of the podium open to allow the light from the streetlight to shine in. He was soaked from head to toe. He reached into his backpack and took out some dry clothes. As he turned around, he noticed a handkerchief lying beside him. This must belong to the pastor, he thought. I’m sure he won’t mind if I use it. Rufus reached over, grabbed the handkerchief, finished drying off and changed his clothes. Rufus was tired and worn out from his journey. His eyes were red and swollen; they were streaked like a road map. He looked around to his other side and saw a collection plate. Gently, he placed the handkerchief inside the plate, crawled in and fell asleep.
It wasn’t long before morning. Slowly, the congregation entered the church for Sunday school. They were talking and laughing as they took their regular seats. Rufus was so tired and wore out that he never woke up. Shortly, the song leader stepped up to the microphone and began to sing; the congregation stood and joined in. But, Rufus never even turned over. In fact, he slept through Sunday school. After Sunday school, the church gathered in the chapel. They sang songs of praise and prayed. As they sang, Rufus tossed, twisted and turned about. Suddenly, the pastor got happy, stood up and slammed his hand down on top of the podium.
“Glory to God!” he shouted. “I feel good in the Lord today.”
When the pastor pounded down on the podium, Rufus was startled awake. It scared him half to death as he bounced up and down inside the collection plate.
“Praise God!” shouted the pastor.
“Hallelujah, brother,” said a voice from the congregation.
Quickly, Rufus jumped out of the plate, slipped out the door of the podium, shot between the pastor’s feet and hid in the pews of the choir.
“Whew,” Rufus sighed with relief. “That was a close call.”
As the service went on, the pastor got up and preached. Rufus quietly listened as he hid behind a stack of songbooks under one of the pews. Occasionally, Rufus would peep over the songbooks to look at the pastor and the congregation. When Rufus looked out at the congregation, he saw a few people listening, two or three sleeping, a few whispering and little children playing under the pews.
“Waah! Waah!” cried a baby.
Oh, yes, and a baby crying at the top of its lungs. Finally, the service ended and everyone except Rufus went home. He stayed behind to explore the church and to see what he could find. Rufus worked his way around the church. He climbed behind the pews of the choir and looked through an open window.
“It’s an indoor swimming pool,” he said. “Whoopee!” he yelled. “I’m going for a swim.”
Splash he went as he jumped into the water.
“This is great,” he cried. “The water is good and warm. It’s just right.”
Later on that evening as Rufus was thinking about the sermon, the congregation started coming in. There wasn’t as many as before, but it was still a good crowd. As the song leader sang ‘Where do I go but to the Lord,’ Rufus hid under the front pew, clapped his hands and patted his feet. Where do I go but to the Lord? I sure wish I could sing, he thought. The service went on. After the pastor closed out his message, the congregation left one by one. But, Rufus stayed behind. He thought about the things the pastor had said and hummed the hymns they had sung.
“Glory to God!” shouted Rufus in the empty church as he slapped his hand down on his little knee.
For the next few days, Rufus played and thought about things. Early Wednesday morning, he climbed up on a pew and found a songbook. Hurriedly, he opened it. He thumbed through the pages to hymn number 53. He cleared his throat and tried to sing like the song leader.
“A…maz…ing gra…ce,” squeaked his voice.
He cleared his throat once again, took a deep breath and then sang out.
“A…maz…ing gra…,” squeaked his voice and then he coughed. “A…maz…ing grace, how sweet the sound,” squeaked his voice again. “I wish I could sing,” he said as he sat on the edge of the pew and swung his feet back and forth.
Rufus couldn’t wait until it was time for the congregation to come back on Wednesday night. He felt sort of lonesome. Later on that day, Rufus played inside the piano. Unexpectedly, the choir director and the choir came in to practice before the Wednesday night service. Rufus rushed to get out of the piano but one of his feet got hung in the piano strings. It was too late; the piano player sat down at the piano and began to play. Oh no, he thought, I’ve got to get out of here. He struggled to get free but he couldn’t get his foot out from under the strings. As the pianist played, the keys hit all around him.
“Me…me…me,” came a voice from the choir.
I have to get out of here, thought Rufus. But, how, he asked himself. He pulled and tugged on the piano strings as sweat popped out on his forehead. Without warning, the piano player started playing. As she pounded down on the keys, Rufus grabbed his ears because the noise was so loud. Just in the nick of time, Rufus pulled his foot free; the keys barely missed him. He scurried out of the piano down to the floor and ran under the choir pews. Exhausted, frightened and scared, he gasped for air.
“Okay, choir,” said the choir director, “turn to page 173.”
Rufus grabbed a songbook that was lying on the floor and turned to page 173. As the choir sang, Rufus tried his best to keep up with them but he couldn’t. When they came to the chorus, he stuck his little chest out and joined in.
“When the roll is called up yonder,” squeaked his voice.
“When the roll is called up yonder,” squeaked his voice again.
The choir stopped; they looked at each other with their mouths hung open.
“Now, let’s try it again,” instructed the choir director.
Everything went well until they got to the chorus.
“When the roll is called up yonder,” squeaked Rufus.
The choir director quickly stopped, looked at the choir, eye-balled them and then looked over at the piano player.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” said one lady.
“Me either,” said another.
“Okay,” stated the director, “let’s try it one more time from the top. One, two, and uh three…sounds fine,” said the director as he smiled and nodded. “Now the chorus,” he said as he eyed e
ach one.
“When the roll is called up yonder,” they sang.
Quickly, Rufus placed his hand over his mouth.
“When the roll is called up yonder, when the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there,” they continued to sing.
“Alright,” Rufus yelled softly. “I did it.”
After the Wednesday night service, the congregation had a surprise dinner for the pastor in the fellowship hall. Everyone wanted to thank him for all that he had done. No one liked the dinner any better than Rufus. After everyone left, he ate until he couldn’t eat any more. He was so full that his little round belly poked out from under his shirt. All he could do was lie on the floor and wallow around.
“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Lord for that good food,” he shouted. “And thank you, Pastor Brown. Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup…oh no,” cried Rufus, “not the hiccups. Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup…excuse me, Lord,” he said as he covered his mouth.
Early the next day, the church was empty and quiet once again. Well, I guess it’s time for me to move on, thought Rufus as he looked around the church. I’m going to miss everyone, he said to himself. He quietly stood in the pulpit before he slowly made his way to the door. He stopped suddenly in his tracks and paused a minute. He turned and walked back toward the pulpit. He knelt down at the altar and prayed. After a few minutes, he stood to his feet with tears in his eyes and a smile across his face.
“Lord, I believe I will stay,” he squeaked, “amen.”