CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD. Pt. 4

Several years ago, when I served as staff counselor of a large church in an adjacent town, I was seated near the back of the sanctuary during the Sunday morning worship service. The congregation was singing “Crown Him With Many Crowns” or “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” or a similar hymn, when suddenly a middle-aged woman, a couple rows in front of me, stood up from her pew, laid down on the aisle carpet, and began rolling sideways. 

Left and right. Left and right. After a full minute or more, she got up and proceeded to run in circles around the inside perimeter of the sanctuary. As I recall, a couple of deacons caught up with her, and escorted her out the door. The pastor missed the entire scenario, as he hadn’t yet walked in.

A week later, ‘Sally’ began bringing a baby to church with her. She would sit on the right hand section of pews, center and on the aisle. She was a very attentive mother. Sally would occasionally look down at the infant, rearrange the small cover, and smile. Strangely enough, the baby never moved, nor emitted the slightest sound during the worship service.

After perhaps three weeks, and near the end of the service, our pastor invited anyone with a need for prayer to come forward. Sally was quickly on her feet, and carrying her baby towards the front of the sanctuary. I watched with interest, as the pastor, and an accompanying deacon, made their way down the line of people stretched across the altar area. They stopped in front of each individual; extending their hands and praying. They finally reached Sally. 

I noticed the lady mouthing something to the pastor, and dropping her eyes to look at her precious child. The pastor reached out and took the baby from her, and then… he grinned a broad, almost quizzical grin, but quickly suppressed it.

Even from where I sat, I could see the baby was a

… doll. 

It was obvious that the minister didn’t want to unnecessarily embarrass Sally, (if indeed she was capable of being embarrassed). And with this, he breathed a short “baby healing prayer,” and quickly moved to the next supplicant. 

Having done her maternal duty, the attentive mother appeared relieved, covered her ‘daughter’s’ face with a pink baby blanket, walked back up the aisle, and out the door. 

I never saw her again.

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 48. Copyright pending

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