The SeatHe sat down. To
him a pew was a pew. A seat was a seat. Besides
it had been twenty years since he had sat in a
church. It was hard enough for him to walk
through the doors into a sea of unfamiliar faces.
Now that he had made it inside, he just walked
halfway down the aisle, turned to the right and
sat down on the edge of the pew.
It was
kind of strange to him that nobody said hello
when he walked through the door. Wasn't that what
they did in church? And especially now that he
had found his seat. Why hadn't someone come over
to speak to him, he wondered.
He
looked around as if to initiate some sort of eye
contact with anyone. When he did, he found almost
everyone looking at him, yet they would look down
or look away whenever he caught their eye. And
after they would look away, they would whisper to
the person sitting next to them. He couldn't
quite hear what they were saying.
The
minute that passed seemed like an hour. He must
have crossed and uncrossed his legs seven times.
No matter where he put his arms, they didn't feel
right.
He
finally found a position that pleased him- his
feet crossed at the ankles and both arms resting
outstretched on the back of the pew.
Then a
voice pierced the silence.
"Excuse
me young man!," the elderly lady stated
while poking his ribcage with her cane.
"Excuse me."
He was
stunned. This attack had caught him by surprise.
"You're
sitting in my pew," she said with a voice
that he heard first in his spine and then in his
ear.
"That's
my seat, you see. I've been sitting there for
twenty years!"
He was
just now beginning to regain his composure.
"I'm
sorry mam," he said getting to his feet.
"I didn't know."
"Well
you do now."
"Yes
mam," he said as he stepped aside and out
into the aisle, watching the lady take her seat.
He
stood there in the middle of the aisle, shocked
by the events that had just taken place. Once
again his eyes surveyed the sea of faces. This
time no one looked up. Their eyes were glued to
the floor. His eyes, too, slowly gazed to the
floor as he turned and walked toward the doors.
He had
reached the doorway when he heard someone say
from the pulpit, "Please turn in your
hymnals to hymn number 33, People Need The Lord
."
The
doors closed quietly and tightly behind him,
sealing off the sound of their voices. He went on
his way.
copyright 1992 Dale
Suffridge
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