Right Now!
All the Fish You Can Eat!!!
I have heard the expression that some things are harder to do than herding cats. Well, they never had Emily's idea because all the cats that were heading towards the alley spun around, and ran, in unison, towards Lucky's Junk Yard. Once they got there, I was sure that Lucky would give them a warm welcome.
I strolled down the alley to the back of Miller's Shoes. There stood Catsby holding a very frightened Campbell by the tail. She was struggling to get loose while yelling to me, “Run, Judachew, run!” Instead I stood my ground trusting that Alida's slumber party trick, whatever it might be, would scare the Great Catsby.
“I didn't think you would show. I am glad that so many of your friends came, as well. My fellow cats are waiting to help me clean up and get rid of all you rodents. This town is not big enough for both cats and mice,” he boasted.
“I don't see your friends, Catsby. Maybe they are scaredy cats? Let's see all your friends,” I taunted.
“You asked for it, little mouse. Come on out, cats. Show these mice that we mean business,” Catsby said with big, toothy grin. Nothing happened. No purrs. No meows. He looked around with surprise written on his face. “Cats! Dinner is served! The mice are here. Come and get yourself a mouse for dinner.” Still nothing. We mice moved slowly until we had Catsby surrounded. Now was when we needed Alida to pull off her trick but I heard and saw nothing.
Catsby looked down at me and said, “Well, I guess I will have to eat all you mice by myself. I am not afraid of mice.”
I looked around for Alida. She was hiding behind a garbage can with a half finished bottle of soda pop. I didn't know what was going to happen but it had to happen now and it did.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” came three of the loudest burps I had ever heard. More amazingly they sounded just like a dog barking. This was the most perfect surprise of the day. I looked at Catsby's face and saw him form one word, “Drat!” before dropping Campbell to the ground. He ran at record speed to get out of the alley.
The mice gathered around Campbell, giving her hugs and high-fives. I walked over to Alida and said, “I owe you one.”
She looked at me and said, “Well, it isn't quite the same as singing but it is a special talent that not many mice have. Judachew, you owe me nothing. We are a family. You use your gifts and I will use mine to save our church.”
Campbell walked up to us. “I guess I can tell my future baby mice someday how I was saved by a belch,” she told Alida as she hugged her for a long time. Then she turned to me and scolded, “I told you not to come. I told you to run.” She smiled and said “but I am glad you didn't listen to me.” She hugged me. A girl mouse was hugging me. I was so embarrassed but also glad that she didn't kiss me. Then she did, right on the end of my nose. My nose blushed to a bright red. Oh, no, I was becoming Rudolph, the Red Nosed Mouse.
Chapter 17
The rest of the week was spent in preparation for the concert. My classmates worked on their dance routine. Faith Ann, Mrs. Leever and I worked on our songs and Mr. Leever polished off the short appeal he would make to the guests at the concert.
The Women's Auxiliary sewed a curtain for the front of the sanctuary. I would not tell anyone why I needed a curtain but it would be our show stopping number, or rather our cat stopping number. As we were putting the finishing touches on one of the songs, a reporter showed up from the local newspaper. She wanted to interview some of the participants for an article that would be in the Great Corn Harvest Edition of the paper. Faith Ann told me that it would be good advertising and that I should be kind and sweet to the reporter.
The reporter asked a lot of questions about how I got my name and my singing gift. We talked about that but the question that surprised me the most was about the sale of the church building. The reporter wanted to know why we were continuing to hold the concert even though the building had already been sold. I was sitting on a table's edge in front of her and almost fell off. We paused our discussion so I could ask Mr. Leever to sit in with us. Once he was part of our conversation I asked her to explain her question.
That afternoon, the reporter spoke with both the cat man, who wanted to turn the church into a cat hotel, and Bishop Potentate. Both had told her that the contract was already signed giving the building to the cat fancier. Mr. Leever was shocked that the Bishop would sell the building after promising the congregation they could buy it. I watched Bob Leever's face turn white as the blood drained from it. He was physically upset. He got up and left the room.
I looked at the reporter and told her, “The entire congregation heard the Bishop promise that we could purchase the building and that we had until this Sunday. There will be a Great Corn Harvest Festival concert this Saturday night. At that concert, we will raise the money to buy this building back from the Bishop and his group. This town and the people who live here are honest folk who love what is right and they will make sure that the right thing is done for this congregation.”
The news of the church sale had spread through the human and mouse congregations. People and mice felt betrayed. The life and spirit had gone out of our production. Many felt that we should just scrap the idea and start moving things out of the building. Mrs. Leever spent her days on the telephone calling everyone to bolster their faith and to keep with the plan. It was decided that there would be a meeting on Friday night before the dress rehearsal.
All members of the congregations, both mouse and human, sat together to hear Mr. Leever. He was passionate about continuing with the plan for our concert. Most people agreed with him on that but another of the Deacons stood and spoke. “Brothers and Sisters, we have done all that we can. The contract has been signed and turned in at the court house. The truth is that we have been lied to from the time the Bishop was appointed to run the churches in this area. Two weeks ago, he stayed true to his character and once again did not tell us the truth. We have no recourse but to leave this building but, with God's grace and help, we are going to end our time as one church body with the greatest show this town has ever seen.” A few in the congregation clapped then more joined in. Moments later more joined in and finally the whole room was clapping harder and harder.
The pastor finally stood and spoke, “As most of you know, I have agreed to pastor this church part-time until you can afford a new pastor. When I said yes, last week, I had no idea it would be for only one week but I need to talk to you. When everything looked gloomy and it seemed like the end in New York, God did a miracle. If you ask me, God is still able to do miracles. I wouldn't be surprised if a miracle happened right now and...”
The pastor was interrupted as the back door to the church swung open and an old man, walking with a cane, stepped into the well-lit sanctuary. I had no idea who it was and why he was there. I was praying though that it was the miracle we needed.
Chapter 18
As everyone looked at the old man, he paused and caught his breath before he spoke. “I tried to hurry to make your meeting but my legs no longer run, in fact they barely walk. I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” he said.
“How can we help you, Judge Zachary?” Mr. Leever asked of him.
“You can't help me, but after reading the article in today's paper, I decided to review the contract for the purchase of this property. There were several irregularities on it. I didn't recognize the witness, a Mr. Great Catsby, to begin with. Who is this Catsby? Does anyone know?” he asked.
“He is a cat, your honorship,” Faith Ann said.
“Just call me, Judge, little Faith Ann. As I was saying, cats do not make legal witnesses. So, I checked a little further into the deed. It seems that Bishop Potentate must have complete approval of the Deacon and Trustee Boards of this church in order to reassign ownership to anyone else. I will have to rule that this document is not legal.
“Of course, I will have to wait until Monday to inform the Bishop. Therefore, if the money is raised Saturday night and the Deacon and T
rustee Boards vote to sell it back to the congregation on Sunday, sign the necessary paperwork and turn it into me on Sunday, then it will be your legal possession by the time Monday arrives. You will have to excuse me, but I need to get home, Cheryl is making corn chowder tonight and I never miss her corn chowder,” the Judge said before turning and walking back out the door.
“Never underestimate God,” the pastor said. At that point the whole church exploded with shouts of joy. The only thing left to do was to raise the money. From the talk around town, I knew we would have the large audience we needed, but I also knew, too, that neither the Bishop, nor the cat man, nor the Great Catsby would simply let us hold the concert. They would try to stop it.
Saturday morning came. The sun was bright and Faith Ann, her grandmother and I were going to practice our songs one more time. After breakfast, I hurried over to the sanctuary. As I entered the sanctuary I heard Faith Ann scream loudly. I raced inside as she pointed to the curtains. They were ripped to shreds by what appeared to be claws. Catsby and his gang of cats must have sneaked in during the night and clawed the curtains. Faith Ann's grandmother delivered the rest of the bad news. Her sheets of music had also been clawed into long pieces of useless paper.
“What do we do now, Nana?” the young girl asked.
“We play it by ear,” she responded. “The three of us know all the songs. We just play them by ear.”
“I can't,” said Faith Ann.
“Yes, you can. Sit at the piano and Judachew start singing a song. Faith Ann, just close your eyes and see the music,” Nana encouraged. We both did as she said and the songs came out fine. Faith Ann was smiling until she looked at the mangled curtains. “The curtains are still in shreds. We will never get them sewn by tonight.”
“I think we can,” I said.
“How? It takes hours to sew and it took us two hours just to hang them. Who in the world could do all that by tonight?” Faith Ann retorted.
“I know a group of seamstresses that sew fast and will work on the curtains where they hang. That will save us two hours right there. The project will be done by the concert tonight. Mrs. Leever, can you buy us several dozen spools of thread and the same amount of small needles. I will go round up the mice that will fix it by this evening. We have come this far and we will see this through,” I said as I left the room to get the mouse version of the Women's Auxiliary.
It was Ava's mother that took over the project. She taught each of the mice on the team the stitch to use. They began at the bottom and climbed up the shredded curtains stitching the sections back together. It was a long and tedious job but I heard them singing as they worked. They finished the project about ten minutes before the doors opened.
Our little mouse usherettes stood on pedestals and chairs handing out programs to the people streaming in. The pews filled quickly until the men of the church had to bring the chairs from the fellowship hall in to accommodate the still arriving crowd. The Balcony had been unused for a decade, except by us mice, and now people were crushed together on the steps that climbed to the roomy balcony. Soon it was full as well. Every chair in the building had someone in it. Still people were coming. The Deacons opened the church windows and more people sat lawn chairs outside. The response was greater than any of us anticipated or ever dreamed possible.
Bob Leever had just walked to the microphone in the middle of the stage when there was a thunderous commotion at the door at the rear of the church. “Make room for me. Don't worry because I have brought my own chair.” The Bishop had arrived and was pushing the townspeople out of his way. “Get out of my way, you rotten child!” he screamed as he shoved an eight-year-old girl against the wall.
Chapter 20
The Bishop pushed his way in further, but ninety-nine year old Pastor LeClaire, the Bishop's secretary, was struggling to get the now enlarged and fully lighted, red velvet chair through the narrow aisle between the sitting and standing concert goers. “Out of my way. Don't you know who I am? Can't you read the side of my truck. I am very important. I am Bishop Potentate,” he said in an irritated and self-righteous manner. The people didn't seem to care who he thought he was or about his obnoxious self-importance.
The Bishop looked at the front of the sanctuary that had been redesigned as a concert set. He pointed and demanded, much like a spoiled child, “That is where my chair goes. Who put their stuff where my chair goes? I want my spot for my chair. I want my spot for my chair, now! If I don't get my spot for my chair then I will hold my breath.”
Many of the people who had come were offended by his actions until one of them misunderstood, thought the Bishop was a comedy act and started to laugh. Then others laughed as well. I quickly jumped to the microphone and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have a round of applause for the comedy stylings of Bishop Potentate. Could a few of you help him with his chair? You can place it behind all the others on the lawn. The Bishop continued to stomp his feet and whine but at this point everyone was laughing at him. That is something that should have been done a long time before.
Bob Leever started his introductions again. He thanked everyone for coming and explained how the church was trying to save their building. After his short comments, Faith Ann started to play. The applause was loud and appreciative when I finished that first song followed by the pastor's wife and I singing our duet.
We were about to unveil our big production number with my classmates dancing behind me. Although, many people were surprised and some were shocked that four girl mice, wearing dresses and bows in their hair, were placing the programs in their hands, none were frightened or upset. Most of the woman attenders commented on how pretty and polite they were. No one felt compelled to jump on a chair and yell “mouse.” But I was not sure if they were ready to see mice dancing. I was about to find out how that would go over with this very receptive crowd.
I looked over at Faith Ann and mouthed the words, “Hit it!” She played the keyboard and my classmates filled the stage with acrobatic and contemporary dance. I didn't expect the reaction to it. The audience stood and clapped, cheered and whistled. It was the hit of the show so far. I looked back at the other mice as they heard the people's appreciation. Each one had a grin as big as their hearts. I was proud of what we had done. As the number finished we all bowed. I motioned again towards the other mice and the crowd broke into applause again. As I came up from my second bow, I noticed a new audience.
Across the balcony railing, along the center aisle and up the side aisles, close to one hundred cats hat slinked in without notice. I pointed them out to Faith Ann and nodded to John that it was time for our super big, show stopping number.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your being here. I ask that you indulge me in doing a favorite, old song. It is often played at weddings and parties because it is such a fun song. In order to do it justice, I invited a guest choir to join me in singing this wonderful, popular hit.” I started into the first verse as the shredded and re-sewn curtains were pulled back to reveal Lucky and his canine friends.
I sang, “Who let the dogs out?”
The dog choir answered, “Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.”
“Who let the dogs out?
“Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.
By the time I went into the third “Who let the dogs out?” the audience was cleared of cats except for one. The Great Catsby had been all the way to the front and didn't notice the others had left him alone, once again. I motioned for him to turn around and look. He did, then slowly rotated himself back to me. I heard him say over the song, “Drat!” before slinking backwards, as if he was trying to be invisible, toward the door. The audience was up singing along with the song by the time we finished. This time the applause was thunderous. Lucky and his friends didn't stay around long. They bolted for the back door and soon the night air of the town was filled with angry barks and frightened meows.
We had come to the end of the concert. I had one more son
g to sing but Bob Leever needed ask for donations to save the church building. He spoke to the people, “This has been quite a night, hasn't it? You heard a television star who is also a singing mouse, watched mice dance, witnessed the first dog choir and now you wonder how and why this all happened. For many years, we humans had no idea that families of mice lived behind these walls. They held their own Sunday School classes. They listened to our sermons and sang along with our songs. We worshiped together for years but had no idea they existed. It wasn't until a little singing mouse and his family, who is part of our new Pastor's family, moved here. We learned from mice how to have a simple and real faith. We ignored that too long and ignored what this church was called to be. It was almost too late for us and in fact, it will be too late for us, if we don't raise enough money to buy our church back. If you help us, then we promise to be the kind of community church that you can turn to when you have questions about faith or just need a friend. Our offering plates are going to pass through each row. Please do whatever you can because, as you can see from our singer tonight, that small things do matter.”
By the time the offering plates returned to Bob Leever, they were full, dumped and full again. I knew that God had done a miracle that night and our church building was saved. More than that, the meaning of what it meant to be a church had been rediscovered.
We turned the lights down low and I sang my last song, “How Great Thou Art.” As it finished, I felt a very joyful spirit throughout the people who were slowly heading to the fellowship hall for refreshments. I smiled as I watched the mouse and human congregations praise God for saving their building.
Lily rushed out of the side of the wall and hugged my leg. “We did it and even me, little Lily, got to be a part of it,” she said.
“Yes, you did, Lily. You are the best little sister in all of Iowa,” I exclaimed as I hugged her back.
“Just Iowa?” she joked.
I Hate New Sunday School Classes Page 6
