Bees and funeral fans

I am always reflecting on my childhood and events that still make me chuckle.

Today, I watched carpenter bees buzz around me and found the holes they had drilled in my deck railing on the creek. This reminded me of a story from when I was attending church as a child.

Back in the early 60’s, our little church had no air conditioning. It was a rather warm Sunday morning, and I recall that the pews were full, and the visiting preacher had taken off his suit coat and proceeded to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves. At that point, I knew we were in for lively service, or a long one, and looking at the clock wouldn't make a difference. I still remember that clock. My stomach and it were in sync for sure. There was no timer to set for the Sunday roast, only hoping that the oven temperature and the timing of the church letting out would not result in a sandwich.

All the amens and a little shouting seem to prolong the service. The preacher was on his bunny trail (hopping from one subject to another), and it seems the old saints were enjoying every trail he visited.

I know I am showing my age, but back before there was air conditioning, if you attended a funeral, they would hand out fans made of stiff cardboard with wooden handles. In most cases, they had a picture of Jesus with sheep or praying hands, and the other side would be the name or an image with compliments from the funeral home.

I am not sure how these fans ended up in our little church, but they could always be found on the rack behind the pew you were facing.

On this particular Sunday service, the preacher had become a little long-winded (bunny trail), and the temperature began to rise as noon approached. It seems everyone had grabbed a fan to keep cool. The preacher was sweating, and he had switched to a second handkerchief.

The windows were wide open, and of course, there were no screens. All of a sudden, a swarm of bees came through one of the windows, and the commotion began. The swatting with funeral fans and diving under the pews were things to behold. Of course, what still brings a chuckle as I recount the story is that the preacher was oblivious to the situation and thought the Holy Spirit was truly at work, given the shrieks and the commotion, all lacking “amen, hallelujah, and glory to God.” I still don’t know how anyone didn’t get stung. It must have been a miracle.