Clowning Around

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  On Sunday morning, he was still struggling with feelings he kept pushing down. He was determined to put on a happy face and act as if nothing were wrong.

  Checking to see that his chaps were in place and donning his floppy red cowboy hat, he entered the sanctuary through a side door near the pulpit.

  “Howdy, Pardners!” Joe shouted as he sprinted onto the platform, twirling a rope over his head. “Anyone know what the rope said to the knot?”

  When no one responded, Joe said, “You’re naughty!”

  Several children in the front row giggled, and Joe winked at them. “Today we’ll be talking about witnessing and inviting our friends to church,” he announced. “I’ll need a helper though. Any volunteers?”

  A few hands shot up, and Joe pointed to a young boy. “What’s your name?”

  “Billy,” the boy told him.

  “Well, come on up, Billy, and stand right over there.” Joe pointed to the spot where he wanted Billy to stand then took several steps backward. “Now let’s think of some ways we can witness to our friends about Jesus.” In one quick motion, Joe twirled his rope, flung it over the boy’s head, and cinched it around his waist. “There! I’ve roped you real good, and now you’ve gotta listen to the pastor’s message.”

  Billy looked at Joe as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Guess ropin’ your friends isn’t the best way to invite them to church.” He undid the rope. “Hmm. . .what else could I do to get someone to come to church?”

  Joe tipped his head to one side, pressed his lips together, then snapped his fingers. “I know! I’ll handcuff this young man and force him to come to church.” Joe reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of plastic handcuffs. He dangled them above Billy’s head, and several children laughed. “You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

  “That wouldn’t be nice!” a little girl shouted.

  Joe nodded. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be.” He tapped the toe of his cowboy boot against the floor. “Let’s see now.” Joe bent down so he was on the same level with the boy. “If you’re not willing to go to Sunday school with me, I won’t be your friend anymore.”

  Billy raised his eyebrows. Joe chuckled then ruffled the child’s hair. “Guess that’s not the way to witness either.”

  Joe began to pace the length of the platform. “What’s the best way to witness? What’s the best way to witness?” He stopped suddenly, nearly running into the boy. “Hey! You still here?”

  Billy nodded. “Do you want me to sit down?”

  Joe shook his head. “No way! We still haven’t shown these kids the best way to witness.”

  Billy tapped Joe on the arm, and Joe bent down so the boy could whisper something in his ear. When he lifted his head again, Joe was smiling. He turned to face the audience. “This young man thinks I should offer him something so he’ll agree to come to Sunday school with me.” He winked. “And I think I have the perfect gift.”

  Joe reached into another pocket of his baggy jeans and grabbed a couple of pencil balloons. The first one he inflated flew across the room, and everyone howled. When he blew up the next one, he twisted it quickly into an animal. “Here you go, Son—your very own pony.” He handed Billy the balloon creation then told him he could return to his seat.

  Next Joe pulled a small New Testament from his shirt pocket. He opened it and turned a few pages. “In Mark, chapter 16, verse 15, Jesus commanded His disciples to go into the world and preach the good news to all creation.” He held up the book. “That means we should do the same. We need to tell others about Jesus, and one of the ways we can do that is by inviting our friends and relatives to Sunday school and church where they can hear Bible stories about Him.”

  Joe moved to the end of the platform and held up the rope and handcuffs. “Forcing them to come isn’t the answer.” He drew a fake flower from his vest pocket and showed the audience. “If you use some form of bribery, it might get them here—but will it keep them?” He shook his head. “I doubt it, and I don’t think that’s the way Jesus meant for us to preach the good news. We need to live the Christian life so others will see Jesus shining through us. Then, when we invite our friends and family to church, they’ll want to come and see what’s it all about.” He shook his head slowly. “Shame on me for trying to make you think otherwise.”

  Joe held the flower in front of his own face and squeezed the attached bulb. A stream of water squirted on his nose, and the audience clapped heartily. Joe took a bow and dashed out of the room.

  Joe didn’t wish to disturb the church service, so he stayed in the small room outside the sanctuary, listening to the pastor’s message from his seat near the door. After the congregation was dismissed, Joe stepped over to the pastor. “If you’re not too busy, may I speak with you for a few minutes?”

  “Sure, Joe. I have time to talk now.”

  Joe followed Pastor Cummings down the hall to his office where they sat down in easy chairs.

  The pastor leaned forward. “You’re an excellent clown, Joe. God’s given you a special talent, and it’s good to see you using it for Him.”

  Joe folded his arms. “If I can bring a smile to someone’s heart, it’s a ministry worth doing.”

  Pastor Cummings nodded. “Most people seem to open up to a clown. I’ve noticed that the barriers seem to come down the minute you step into a room.”

  “You’re right, but I’ve seen a few exceptions,” Joe said. “I remember being in a restaurant one time to do a kid’s birthday party, and an older man was sitting at a nearby table. He seemed nervous by my presence and stayed hidden behind his newspaper until I left.”

  “Guess he forgot what it was like to be a child.”

  Joe shrugged. “Could be.”

  Pastor Cummings wrinkled his forehead. “Maybe the man was afraid to laugh. Some people have a hard time getting in touch with their emotions—especially if they’ve been hindered during their growing-up years.”

  Joe shifted uneasily in his chair. Could the pastor see inside his heart and know how discouraged he’d been as a child? Did he know how hard it was for him to get in touch with his feelings?

  “What did you wish to speak with me about, Joe?”

  Joe’s nerves were as taut as a rubber band. This was going to be harder than he thought. “I’m. . .dating a woman now who is. . .well, Lois tends to be kind of serious.”

  “Does that bother you?” the pastor asked.

  “Not really, because she’s recently taken a couple of clowning classes and is learning to relax and joke around.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I think I’m the problem,” Joe said.

  “How so?”

  “Lois wants to know about my family and what went on in my past.”

  “And I take it you’d rather not talk about that part of your life?”

  Joe nodded. “The truth is, I don’t even want to think about the past, much less discuss it.”

  He took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. The only sound was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall behind the pastor’s desk.

  Suddenly an image of Joe’s mother popped into his mind. He could see her shaking her finger at him. He could hear her shouting, “You’re a slob, Joseph Andrew Richey! Why can’t you do anything right?” She slapped his face, then ran from his room, sobbing and shouting obscenities.

  “Why was she always so critical?” Joe mumbled to himself. “Why was everything I did never good enough?” His voice lowered even more. “Why couldn’t she at least say something positive about me?”

  “Who was critical of you, Joe?”

  Joe raised his head. Pastor Cummings was staring at him. “Oh. I guess I was sort of daydreaming. All of a sudden I could see my mother and hear her shouting at me.”

  “Both of your parents are dead, as I recall from what you told me when you first started coming here. Is that right?” the pastor asked.

  Joe nodded.

  “Were you and your mother
close?’

  “I–I guess so. I did everything she asked, even when she wouldn’t take her medicine and sort of flipped out.”

  “Was your mother ill?”

  Joe swallowed past the lump wedged in his throat. How could he explain about Mom? Would Pastor Cummings understand, or would he be judgmental, the way Joe’s childhood friends had been when they’d seen his mother in one of her moods?

  “Being able to talk about your feelings will help you get in touch with them,” the pastor prompted.

  “My mother was mentally ill,” Joe blurted out. “She was diagnosed with manic depression, but she never acknowledged it or took the medicine the doctor prescribed.”

  “I see. And how did her illness affect you, Joe?”

  Joe stood suddenly. “I’ve spent the last week alone, wrestling with my past, and I thought I was ready to talk about it—but now I don’t think I am.”

  The older man nodded. “It’s okay. We can talk more when you’re ready.”

  Joe was almost to the door when he felt the pastor’s hand touch his shoulder.

  “I want you to know, Joe, that I’m here for you. Anytime you need to talk, I’m available,” Pastor Cummings said in a sincere tone.

  Joe nodded and forced a smile on his face. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

  Twenty-one

  Lois stared at the telephone, praying it would ring. If only she would hear from Joe. It had been two weeks, and she was getting more worried. She was reaching for the phone when it rang.

  Startled, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Lois. It’s Joe.”

  Lois felt as though the air had been squeezed from her lungs. She hadn’t talked to Joe since Thanksgiving and had almost given up hope of ever hearing from him again.

  “Are you still there, Lois?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Fine. And you?” Lois knew they were making small talk, but she didn’t know what else to say. Things seemed strained between them.

  “Well, the reason I’m calling is, I was wondering if you’re still mad at me.”

  “I was never mad, Joe.”

  “Okay. Irritated then.”

  “Not even that. I was a bit disappointed because you left so abruptly on Thanksgiving and wouldn’t tell me what was bothering you.”

  “I’m sorry, but my brother had me pretty upset,” Joe said. “I took off for Ocean Shores and stayed a whole week.”

  “An impromptu vacation?” Lois asked.

  “I needed time to think. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

  “What have you been thinking about?”

  “You. Me. My past.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I’d like to talk about you and how you make me feel,” he replied.

  “Oh. How’s that?”

  Joe paused. Then in a high voice he sang, “Some might think I’m a clown who laughs and doesn’t like to frown. But I’m really a lovesick fellow who’s too scared to say so ’cause he’s yellow.”

  Lois laughed, in spite of her confused feelings. “Did you make up that little ditty?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Lois wondered if Joe really did love her. In a roundabout way he’d said he did, if his silly tune proved how he felt. She chuckled as she played the words of Joe’s song over in her head.

  “You’re laughing at my love tune?” Joe asked.

  “Not really. It’s just—”

  “I’ll be the first to admit I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  Before she could reply, he asked another question. “Are you doing anything special for Christmas?”

  Lois hesitated. Was he hinting at spending the holiday together, or was he trying to change the subject? “I’ll be spending Christmas Eve with Tabby and Seth and his grandparents, at their retirement home. On Christmas Day we’ll be in Olympia with Mom, Dad, and my grandmother.”

  “If you’re coming to Olympia, why don’t you stop by my house for awhile? You could make it either before or after your visit with your folks.”

  Lois considered Joe’s offer then asked, “Don’t you have any plans for Christmas?”

  “Brian said he might stop by sometime on Christmas Eve, but other than that I’m on my own.”

  Lois’s heart sank at the thought of Joe spending the holiday by himself. It wasn’t right for anyone to be alone on Christmas Day. “Why don’t you come over to my parents’ place for Christmas dinner? They aren’t Christians, but they’re very hospitable, and I’m sure they’d enjoy meeting you.”

  “Will Seth and Tabby be there?”

  “As far as I know.”

  Joe was silent for a moment, and then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I’d like to join you for dinner. Just give me your parents’ address, tell me what to bring, and I’ll be there with my Christmas bells on.”

  ❧

  Lois groped for her slippers and padded to the bedroom window. She had been hoping for a white Christmas, but the brilliant blue sky that greeted her on Christmas morning was filled with sunshine and fluffy white clouds. She studied the thermometer stuck to the outside of the glass. Ten degrees above freezing, so there was no snow on the horizon. At least it wasn’t raining. Lois would be driving the freeway from Tacoma to Olympia on bare, dry roads, and for that she was thankful.

  She had spent Christmas Eve in pleasant company with Tabby and Seth and his dear Christian grandparents. Today would be a sharp contrast. Although her grandmother had recently become a Christian, her parents still refused to see their need for the Lord. Lois hoped her light would shine so they could see how God had changed her life for the better. Tabby and Seth felt the same way. And with Joe there for Christmas dinner, her parents would be surrounded by Christians. She hoped it would make a difference in their attitude toward spiritual things.

  ❧

  Whistling “Jingle Bells,” Joe sauntered up the sidewalk toward the Johnsons’ brick home. He was in better spirits this Christmas than he had been in many years. Brian had come by his home the night before and told him he’d found a tract someone had left in his cab. He’d been civil and even said he was thinking about going to church. That was an answer to prayer, and if Brian did start attending church, maybe he would finally see his need for Christ. Joe had witnessed to his brother several times over the years, but Brian always refused to talk about it. Now Joe felt as if there might be hope. He would continue to pray for his younger brother and with God’s help try to understand him and work toward a better relationship.

  Joe glanced down at the Christmas present he’d brought for Lois. He was also carrying a box of cream-filled chocolates he planned to give her folks. He was eager to meet them and hoped they liked candy.

  He hesitated a second then rang the bell. Almost at once Lois opened the front door, and the sight of her took his breath away. She was wearing a blue velvet dress that matched her eyes and almost reached to her ankles. Her hair hung down her back, held away from her face with two pearl combs. He thought she looked like an angel.

  “Come in,” Lois said, warming Joe’s heart with her smile. The sparkle in her eyes told him she was glad to see him.

  He handed her the wrapped package, along with the chocolates. “The gift’s for you, and the candy is for your folks.”

  “That’s so sweet. I have something under the tree for you too.”

  Joe followed Lois down the hall and into a cozy living room, where Seth and Tabby sat on the couch beside a middle-aged woman he assumed was Lois and Tabby’s mother. She had brown hair and eyes like Tabby’s, and her smile reminded him of Lois. Across the room sat an older woman with short, silver-gray hair and pale blue eyes. Lois’s grandmother, he guessed. A man with thinning blond hair, a paunchy stomach and eyes the same color as Lois’s was relaxing in a recliner near the fireplace. He stood when Joe entered the room. To complete the picture, a fir tr
ee decorated with gold balls and white twinkle lights took up one corner of the room. Joe inhaled the woodsy scent and smiled. It was a pleasant scene, and he was glad he’d come.

  “Mom, Dad, Grandma,” Lois said with a sweep of her hand, “I’d like you to meet Joe Richey.” She turned to Joe and smiled, then nodded toward the woman sitting beside Tabby. “This is my mother, Marsha Johnson.”

  Mrs. Johnson offered Joe a tentative smile. “Welcome, and Merry Christmas.”

  Lois gestured toward the older woman sitting in the rocking chair. “I’d like you to meet my grandma, Dottie Haskins.”

  Grandma Haskins winked at Joe. “It’s so nice we’re finally able to meet. We’ve heard a lot about you, young man.”

  Joe grinned when he noticed Lois was blushing. Apparently she’d been talking about him to her family. “Thanks. It’s great to be here.”

  Lois’s father came forward, his hand extended. “And I’m Earl Johnson.” He scrutinized Joe a few seconds, then his face broke into a broad smile. “I understand you’re a clown.”

  Joe nodded, reaching for his hand.

  “I remember seeing some hilarious clown routines when I was a kid and went to the circus. Have you ever worked in a circus?”

  “No, I’m a gospel clown, but I also do kids’ birthday parties and some other events.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Joe.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Johnson.”

  “Earl. Please call me Earl.”

  Joe pumped his hand. He liked Lois’s dad. The man had a firm handshake, and he seemed taken with the idea that Joe was a clown.

  “Look what Joe brought,” Lois said, handing the box of chocolates to her mother.

  Mrs. Johnson looked at Joe and smiled warmly. “Thank you. I’ll pass the candy around after dinner so everyone can have some.”

  “Unless Tabby gets one of her pregnancy cravings and can’t resist the temptation to dive into the box before then,” Seth said with a deep chuckle. He winked at Joe and nudged his wife gently in the ribs.

  “How would you like to sleep on the couch tonight?” Tabby asked, wrinkling her nose at Seth.

  He held up one hand. “Not on Christmas Day. It wouldn’t be right to kick a man out of his warm bed on Christmas.”