Man Only Knows Church Members By Seating Arrangement And Potluck Dish
It happens every Sunday afternoon. Gill Harris and his wife June talk about things on the way home from church. June tries to catch him up on the goings on at Pathway Baptist. Inevitably, as she begins to tell him the news on the various members, his face draws a blank.
“She starts talking about sister Phyllis, and I just can’t remember her,” admits Gill. “So I ask June, ‘Which one is Phyllis?’ She tries to describe the dear lady, but I just can’t place her. So I ask, ‘What does she bring to potluck?’ She says, ‘She makes that jello casserole you love so much.’ Boom! We are on the same page.”
“I don’t understand it,” exclaims June. We’ve been going there for 12 years. We don’t really have any new people. He should know names by now. Last Sunday I was telling him a story about brother Hawkins. He asked me, ‘Where does brother Hawkins sit?’ I sighed and said, ‘Well, he stands during most of the service… right behind the pulpit. He gives out bread and juice once a month during church.’ He doesn’t even know the preacher by name.”
Gill says it is just how he processes things. “It isn’t just how I remember church people. When you tell me about a place in the city, don’t give me an address. Don’t tell me what streets I need to turn down. Tell me where it is in relation to the Waffle House, or Bass Pro Shop. I don’t remember the name of the lady who made that sweet potato salad that gave me a rash. But I remember the salad… and the rash.”