The Bible School Under the Cottonwood

Pastor Ann

At about half past eleven, during the closing song, a little gray car pulled in at the end of our driveway, and Pastor Ann got out in jeans and a church camp sweatshirt.

Pastor Ann has been with us four years. She is forty, from Minnesota, and has three kids of her own.

She came across the yard with her sunglasses up on her head and stood at the back of the hay bales and just looked.

I saw her count. Pastors count. It is a habit they get from filling out reports for the synod.

When the song ended I blew the whistle and the kids went to the picnic tables for their last snack, and Pastor Ann walked over to the snack table, where Tammy was, and stood there a minute.

“Tammy,” she said, “how many are still coming to church for week two?”

Tammy did not look up. “Fourteen.”

“And how many are here?”

“Forty, with Doug and Ella.”

Pastor Ann nodded slowly. Then she turned to me. “Robin, the Fargo team is here another five mornings whether we fill them or not. I’ve been on the phone with Gail and Dave and the treasurer. We’re waiving the fee for week two.”

I did not understand her at first.

“Free,” Pastor Ann said. “Anybody who wants to come. Every kid in this yard, if their folks are willing. The memorial fund covered most of it already. The rest, we’ll figure out. We shouldn’t have charged in the first place.”

Tammy set down the paring knife. “I’ll make the motion,” she said. “Sunday. If you’ll second it.”

She was looking at me when she said it.

“I’ll second it,” I said.

Then Pastor Ann climbed up on one of Steve’s hay bales, which I would not have advised in those shoes, and called out to forty children that next Monday morning there was more Bible school, at the church, with music and a jungle, and it was free, and everybody was invited.

They cheered like it was the Fourth of July. Then one of the Larson girls asked if Mrs. Hallberg was coming too, and Pastor Ann looked at me.

“If they’ll have me,” I said.

“They’ll have you,” Tammy said. “You’re running the songs. The Fargo kids don’t know the motions.”