Posts Tagged ‘Summer’

Mark Snags the Hot Mic

So VBS finished up and the following Sunday morning it was time to haul the little children before the congregation to show what they learned.

In Mark’s case, rather more than they expected.

Youth Pastor (with the mic):  “All right, children, come to the front!  Let’s sing the grown-ups a song and show them what we did in Vacation Bible School.”

The children trek to the stage.  Brian and I watch with trepidation.  We have, after all, known Mark for six years now, and Paul before that, and are well aware of their predilections with captive audiences.

The Youth Pastor, however, is not.  Mark tries to grab the mic.  YP dodges, and keeps talking about VBS.  Mark bides his time, makes another grab.  YP performs evasive maneuvers.  After the fifth, barely foiled attempt, YP covers the mic and asks Mark what he wants to say.  Mark whispers in his ear.  YP hands over the mic.  Brian and I hold our breath.

Mark:  “I’m so glad you all could be here today.  We’re going to have a great time…”  I.e., exactly what YP has said every morning at VBS.  Mark has cast himself in the Role of Authority.  The shock.  It burns.

YP, apparently recognizing his own banter, takes back the mic.  “It’s time to sing our song.”   He sets down the mic while turning on the music.

Brian and I look at each other.  Tactical error, YP.

Mark, seeing YP’s hands empty, begins a systematic search among the mics (there are several on stage) for the hot one, singing along the whole time.  First one…nope…second one…nope…third…no…fourth…bingo!

Panic blooms in YP’s face.  Yeah, we know that feel, bro.

Mark lifts the mic and begins belting out the song, now amplified.

The congregation, nearly all of whom qualify for social security, tries not to laugh, which you’re not really supposed to do in church.  Mark is now dancing while he sings and trying to do the accompanying hand motions, difficult when you’re also handing a mic.

Congregation loses their battle for decorum and hoots.   At the end of the song, YP takes back his mic, with some difficulty.

I figure when it’s time to recruit Sunday School teachers for the fall, all YP has to do is bring Mark up to the stage.  “Volunteer…or this child will be in service EVERY SUNDAY.”  That should bring in a bumper crop.

Mark Meets an Australian

Apparently Mark’s life experience has not yet included People with Accents.  Until today.

So we’re at their new summer camp, getting them signed in.  As soon as the young man at the check-in table opens his mouth, it was clear he wasn’t from these parts.

Young Australian:  “What’s your last name?”

Mark:  “Butler.”

YA:  “Bootler.”  Scans the list.

Mark:  “BUTler.  Mark Butler.”

YA:  “Ah, here you are, Mark Butler.”  Gestures to a nearby helper.  “This is Matt.  He’ll show you where to put your stoof.”

Mark (utterly perplexed):  “Stoof?” He watches Kate and Sam follow Matt and stow their backpacks, and the bulb comes on.  “Stuff!” Turns to follow.  Turns back.  “I like how you say ‘stuff.'”


End of School Poem

Sumer is icumen in

Llude scream “Aaii!”

Goeth time and bloweth mind

The kids are home from school.

Scream “Aaii!”


One chaseth cat,

Cat scratcheth, child wailest,

Mama holds her head.

“Aaii, aaii!”  Well she misseth school.

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