DOWN HOME: Mother, Barney & Sunday morning

My mother prepared me to be a deacon.

When I was a kid, almost every Lord’s Day morning, Mother woke me up and/or serenaded me at breakfast by singing Happy Sunday Morning. Ever heard it? “Happy Sunday morning. Happy Sunday morning. We read the Bible, sing and pray. Happy Sunday morning.” I’m not sure if it’s a real song or if she made it up.

That song used to bug the snot out of me. I (almost) always liked to go to church, but I hated to get up on Sunday morning. And I certainly didn’t want Mother to brainwash me into being happy about it. So, sometimes, the more she sang, the madder I got.

About that word “almost”: Once I faked being sick so I wouldn’t have to go to church. We lived in Dalhart, where Daddy was pastor of Lincoln Street Baptist Church, so I was only 5 or 6. One Sunday, inexplicably, I did not want to go to church. So I acted like I had a tummy ache. I knew I couldn’t fake a fever. But who could say I might not throw up? So, I stayed home and looked at books while everybody went to church.

I never told anybody that story, because I didn’t want to get a spankin’. Mother and Daddy still read this column, so I reckon they might like to tell me to bend over. But I figure the statute of limitations on 49-year-old sins has expired. And if not, I can out-run both of them.

But back to Mother and being a deacon:?In our church, I’m what’s known as a “W.” Technically, I think, that means I’m part of the Welcome Team. But most of us call ourselves Walkers.

Once a month, we’re responsible for going up to church early on Sunday morning, praying with our pastor, and then greeting folks as they arrive for worship and/or Sunday school. (Excuse me, “Bible study.”) Then, while the worship service is going on, we walk the halls. We’re supposed to provide security for the building, particularly the preschool, children and youth areas.

Anyway, greeting people at the Lord’s house door is my second-favorite thing I ever do at church. It’s right behind teaching my young couples’ Bible study class.

The reason I like it so much is because Mother’s little song stuck. Sunday morning is a happy time for me. I just love to gather with Jesus’ people as we read the Bible, sing and pray. It’s a blast to greet folks. I try to make the frowning ones smile and the sleepy-looking ones perk up. And I looooove to flirt with the older ladies. No matter the weather, firm handshakes and occasional hugs brighten my life.

That’s a good thing, because next comes the boring part—walking the halls while everybody else is in worship or class. My friends call me Barney, for Barney Fife of the Andy Griffith Show, who only carried a bullet in his pocket. If an intruder breaks in, I guess I’ll have to throw my cell phone at him. Or run him out by singing Happy Sunday Morning.