Free The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String by Kris Knorr, Barb Froman Page A

all-night-gamer for New Year’s Eve, we unlocked the closet to the belfry. The kids wanted to ring the church bell at midnight.”
    “Yeah, I heard that. It was grand. Hadn’t been done in years,” Walt said.
    “Lots of people in the neighborhood called the church, thanking us for ringing in the New Year.” Phil shook his head. “Who knew? I figured we’d get complaints. Anyway, the painting was in the rope-pull closet. The kids really like him. He looks like a punk-rocker. They didn’t think anyone would mind if they stuck him in their room.”
    “Just Vera…” Walt climbed down the ladder.
    “No, she’s okay with it. She seems pretty pleased the kids refer to him as their mascot. Well, mostly the guys. The girls sometimes hang a scarf over it. I didn’t mention that. It might hurt her feelings.”
    “That’s my #2 Rule: Never give ’em too much information. One-word answers if you can.” Walt flipped the switch to test the bulb.
    “What’s #1?”
    “Complain about everything.”
    “Oh! Well, in that case, I’m sorry to bother you. I just wanted to let you know she said we could enjoy it for a while, but not to get too attached because you were scheduled to reinstall it in the narthex. Pastor Poe—he kind of likes it, too—said to check when you’re going to hang it.”
    “Aaah, well, Rule #3 applies here. You and the kids just enjoy your new mascot. The Property Committee’s gonna have to discuss when and where to display that portrait.” Walt patted Phil’s shoulder. “And you know how long it takes some decisions to come out of committee.”
    “What’s Rule #3?” the young man asked.
    Walt picked up the ladder and started toward the maintenance closet, calling over his shoulder, “Try to get away as quick as possible.”

“Our Mouths Were Filled With Laughter” Psalm 126:2  

    “LADIES. LADIES. I’D like to get started. We’ve lots to cover today.” Vera tried to speak over the settling-in noises of the January Circle meeting.
    “Thank you, thank you!” Kay said as Micki set a plate of her Skillion Dollar Fudge on the table. “Has someone made coffee?”
    Vera, who had been conspicuously ignoring Kay since the Christmas Eve incident, spoke over Kay’s last syllable. “We’ll start with new business because we haven’t made it that far into the agenda in past meetings. We will be working with—”
    “Am I supposed to mail off that stuff from our Hygiene Drive?” Hettie asked.
    “Hettie,” Vera nailed her with a stare, “I’d like to finish with my new business.”
    “I agree, Vera,” Nan said, helping herself to the fudge and ignoring the inner voice that told her to shut up. “I just need to understand…when did we have a Hygiene Drive?”
    “Oh, you know. Someone,” Hettie looked at Kay, “suggested a mission project, and I was privileged to do it—like always.”
    “It was a joke,” protested Kay, waving for the dish to be hurried around the table.
    Nan sat forward in her chair. “You’re kidding. When did we do this?”
    “Well, it might have gotten a bit overshadowed by Christmas, but I put a box in the narthex to collect goods. I put a poster on it, but someone…” Hettie looked at Vera, “felt a sign that said ‘Hygiene Collection’ was inappropriate for the Christmas visitors. So I stuck a tasteful little ‘Donate” sticky note on it, but it kept falling off.”
    “No. No. You needed a big honkin’ sign. One that smacks ’em in the head. ‘Soap for Missions’.” Kay waggled a large hunk of chocolate-walnut fudge in the air, “Marketing, Hettie, marketing.”
    “Well, all right, Miss Funny Pants, you can do the next project.” Hettie smirked.
    “Ladies.” Vera sent a stern look at the women. “The topic is the youth sandwich fund—Nan?” The church organist had turned away from the table, her head in her hands. “Nan? Are you all right?”
    The organist faced them, her mouth scrunched tight, but a giggle squeaked out. “Can