Read The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String for Free Online Page A

dear. Are you ill?” Vera asked, leaning over Allie.
    “Uh…no.” She quickly stood up. “I didn’t hear anyone come in. Micki said she lay in pews a lot. So I thought—”
    “I’m sure she did,” Vera said dryly, “when she was four years old.”
    “Yep. That was about the time they made me give it up.” Micki shot Allie a whimsical grin, “I was supposed to sit up and pretend to listen after that.”
    “Here are your Advent candles.” Vera released a heavy box into Allie’s hands. “Please put them in the right order,” she called over her shoulder as she left.
    “How embarrassing,” Allie mumbled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”
    “I wouldn’t give it too much concern. At one time or another, Vera thinks everyone is short a brain cell or two.”
    “Why do people let her run everything?”
    Micki sighed, staring at the door. “Gospel truth?” She turned her stare on Allie. “We’re lazy. As the pastor’s wife, she made sure things got done, and we let her. Now people are getting tired of it. New members want to try new things. Now that her husband is gone, there’s an uprising for change. For me, it’s easier to live with Vera’s attitude than take over her duties.”
    “She’s seems pretty inflexible. An order to the candles? That’s a bit much,” Allie said.
    “Oh, that’s not Vera. There’s an order to everything here. A progression through seasons and worship. Everything you see in this sanctuary has a purpose. All of this is supposed to help you be still. Help you restore the order meant to be in your life.”
    “My life is not in order. It’s full of screaming children and dirty laundry.”
    “That’s why people come to a sanctuary. Seeking peace. Looking for answers. They come here, or a cemetery.”
    “I’ve done that. I’ve gone to a graveyard. It was quiet. Eternal.” Allie lightly stroked the candles.
    “Well, I prefer the sanctuary. Less heat and bugs,” Micki said. “Hand me the purple candle with a crown on it.”
    “Would the roof fall in if you used the wrong candle?”
    “It would’ve been noticed in ancient days. That’s why this isn’t a Christmas decoration; it’s a time keeper. Only the priests could read in the early church, and the peasants didn’t have iphones. Lighting a candle on each of the four Sundays of Advent told the story of Christ’s birth and prepped the peons. If some poor soul was going to receive an extra crust of bread for the holidays, all he had to do was look at the candles and see how long he had to wait.” Micki stuck it into a holder on the wreath and wiggled it, checking its stability.
    The Prophet’s Candle is first; it foretells a King is coming. Second Week, the Bethlehem Candle. Third Week, the Shepherd’s Candle. No, it’s the pink one with a little sheep on it.”
    “Why?”
    “Joy. The shepherds were the first men to visit Jesus. It’s a Sunday to rejoice. There’s a story with every candle. You’ll hear them. Now give me the last purple one, representing the angels’ announcement. When this last Advent candle was lit in those dark, old cathedrals, the peasants knew the wait for the coming King was almost over.”
    “Sounds apocalyptic,” said Allie.
    “It was, but traditions change. Look at Martin Luther; he translated the Bible into German, rewrote hymns using beer drinking songs and got kicked out of the Roman Catholic Church. Things change.”
    “When do we light this?” Allie waggled a long white candle.
    Micki took it and fitted the slender taper into the uppermost ring of the candelabra. Shrill screams came from the narthex.
    “No! I don’t want to! I DON’T WANT TO!” pulsed into louder and louder yells accompanied with something beating the floor.
    Micki and Allie gave each other a startled look and headed toward the door.

The Christmas Play  

    WHEN THE SANCTUARY door opened, high-pitched shouting bounced off the walls.
    Nan, the church organist, poked her head through the doorway.