Summary:When a frilled bonnet and an old man’s sermon compete for a young man’s attention, which one do you think will win?  My contribution to the Michael Landon’s 2011 Birthday Literary Exercise.

Rated: K  WC  1200

Contemplations in Church

“‘The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, Lord have patience with me, and I will pay thee all,’” the minister quoted and then announced the sermon’s title, “Be Patient With Me.”

Little Joe Cartwright filed away both pieces of information, just in case he was asked later.  Pa didn’t check up on his attentiveness every Sunday, but often enough that Joe had learned to be prepared.  The consequences of not being able to recite the appropriate text on a second’s notice could be dire, so Joe always listened faithfully to what the minister had to say—at least, to those first few words.  After that, his mind could drift where it would, as long as he looked like he was doing what he ought to do in church.  This morning it drifted across the aisle to the contemplation of a smooth cheek, blushing beneath a frilled bonnet.

The cheek belonged to Lucille Louise Mayhew, and it graced a face that set his heart thumping in his chest.  Joe was pretty sure he was in love with that face.  Oh, not that he’d never felt this way before.  If he ever forgot, he had two brothers to remind him that Lucy Lou was not the first to make his heart tremble.  Likely she wouldn’t be the last, either.  For now, though, hers was the only face he wanted to see, hers the only lips he longed to kiss, hers the only eyes he wished would turn his way.  That’s it, his mind pleaded.   Just one glance my way.  Show me those tender amber eyes, and I promise you I’ll smile back.

But she didn’t turn toward him.  Maybe she wasn’t willing to chance getting caught with her eyes on a handsome young man, instead of the grizzled old preacher.  The thought of the preacher reminded him that he’d better tote up a few more things that man was saying.  Usually, Pa’d believe he’d really been paying attention if he could give him the text and topic, but once in a while he’d want more proof.  Better to provide some than to beg for mercy later.  He pricked his ears toward the front and listened intently.

“James teaches us that ‘in many things’ we offend all,” the minister declared, “and Proverbs correctly states that ‘A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city.’”

Having somehow managed to offend a brother more than once in his young life, Little Joe nodded in complete agreement, and without even planning it, he murmured, “So true, so true.”

“Shh,” his father cautioned, but he smiled at his youngest, obviously pleased that the boy was giving such focused attention to the sermon.

Little Joe knew from that moment that he was safe: Pa had fallen for his act.  Funny thing was, though, he hadn’t been acting in that moment, but even funnier, he actually wanted to hear a little more of what the preacher had to say.  When it came to managing offended brothers, he figured he could use all the advice he could get.

“If your brother has legitimate cause to be offended with you,” the preacher continued, “then you must first ask his forgiveness, of course.”

Oh, dear, Joe thought.  Might’ve known it couldn’t be anything easy.

“I do, however, suggest that you ask one more thing, especially if you are a habitual offender of your brother.”

Little Joe sat up straighter, all ears again.  Oh, yeah, this was advice he needed, ‘cause he was pretty sure that Adam, at least, and probably even Hoss would agree that he was a habitual offender.

“Don’t despair if you find yourself falling into the same offense repeatedly.  Help your brother to understand the reasons behind your failings,” the preacher urged, “and invite his prayers for your weaknesses.”

Not in a million years, Little Joe thought with a roll of his eyes.  I can’t believe he’d even suggest something so stupid.  Obviously, this preacher ain’t never met up with brothers like mine, who’d turn a thing like that against a man at the drop of a hat!  Though his eyes turned back toward the sweet cheek beneath the frilly bonnet, his ear dimly registered the minister’s final words:

“And then ask your brother, very simply, ‘Please be patient with me.’  If necessary, remind him of this parable and his own obligation to be kind and forgiving.  I’ve often found this simple reminder to be effective in winning back the heart of an offended brother.  Shall we pray?”

Little Joe bowed his head dutifully, though the only thing he prayed about was how to slip away from Pa long enough for a word with Lucy Lou.  He squirmed on the seat, longing for the droning words from the pulpit to end.  They finally did, and in his urgency to get out of the pew, Joe pressed up against his father’s back.

Ben immediately turned around with a frown.  “What is making you so fidgety this morning, young man?  I could feel you bumping up against me all through the benediction.”

Uh-oh, big mistake, the kind that could unravel all his well-planned protection.  Then, inspiration hit.  Little Joe let his lower lip tremble, as if in deep contrition.  “I’m only young, Pa,” he murmured, following the preacher’s advice to explain the reason for his failure, “and my legs get twitchy, but I do try to sit still.  Please . . . be patient with me.”

Ben smiled fondly.  Well, well, the boy really had been listening, and he could scarcely afford to pass up this golden opportunity to reinforce the minister’s message.  “Of course, son,” he said gently.  “Of course, I’ll be patient with you.”

“Uh, can I get out now, then?” Little Joe asked, painting on an anxious expression.  “I—uh—sort of need to run around to the outhouse right pronto.”

“Yes, yes, run along,” Ben said absently, slowly moving out of the way and heading toward the preacher to express his appreciation for the message.

Little Joe darted down the aisle and hurried outside, eyes frantically searching the grounds.  He pulled up short as he saw Lucy Lou stepping up into her family’s surrey.  Too late.  All he could do was stare dreamily from a distance, but then—wonder of wonders—she turned toward him, and for one brief moment their eyes met.  A shy smile curved the girl’s lips and she gave him a discreet wiggle of her fingers that raised his hopes for better things to come.  Then, just as quickly, she was gone, and since it really was a long ride back to the Ponderosa, Little Joe scurried around back toward the outhouse, dreaming up sweet words to whisper in her ear, first chance he got.