
"Mr.C., whatever you do, don't let Sister (the Dog)out! The Methodists are having a funeral and there is a wedding at the Presbyterians!"
Living across the street from a Methodist Church and catty-corner from a Presbyterian congregation, some discretion is advised. For example: don't sit in your lawnchair popping ice cubes at passing cars when the Methodists are having a function. Don't cut the grass or play lawn croquet while the UMC's get together for a funeral.
Mr.C. said, "Where is Andy?"
Ah, the rub. Our cat Andy panders after the Methodists. We are a Calvinist household a beacon of Reformed constraint amidst the Baptist majority of our neighborhood. Except for Andy the Cat. Andy loves the Methodist Church.
He crosses the street to sit in their church yard. He's gone into the sanctuary several times, most memorably during a wedding as the wedding director held the door open for the Bride to enter for the processional. Minutes later, a well dressed woman in very high heels shooed Andy out waving her program.
Who knows if Andy is over at the funeral right now? Maybe he knew the decedent or her people. Maybe he's just visiting with the funeral director, a poplular man who knows everyone in town.
I presented Calvin's view of scripture, the Church, and governance to Andy. He turned away and began a lengthy cat bath. I read several of Calvin's prayers to Andy. He closed his eyes. Great! He's moved by Calvin's piety. Nope, Andy took a nap.
No matter how passionately I plead Calvin's case, Andy pays no attention.
Andy loves John Wesley. Andy loves listening to the Methodist choir practice. He loves the Methodist church children.
I question my effectiveness as a leader and teacher when my own cat eschews John Calvin to warm his heart (and paws) at the Methodist Church.
St.Casserole