Church Commotion

She was a daddy's girl, but climbing trees better than most boys her age, she wore a dress like a girly girl when off to church. Swinging his fist as if in a rage, all but smiling tamed his tamper, for when he smiled his fist once more roamed the pulpit with fierceness. Chapter this and chapter that, while his daughter flung through her Bible like a champion to keep pace with her dad. Mom steady in the kitchen flinging pots in silence, off from ears shot of the Sanctuary, while the Sermon could be heard over speaker above the stove and doorway out of the kitchen. The smell gave folks stacked in the pews reason to remain seated, while fists of fury demonstrated what tongue and cheek could not. Legs crossed, and bows that matched socks and accessories making her bible purse an outfit suited for the church princess. The organ began to play, signalling all things considered, to come to their conclusion. Whether pots and pans, or toilet runs, the Sermon had reached the phase for a call to respond. Fist gave way to open hands, smiles to teary eyes, as the trembling voice of the Preacher called home those who could still hear the still voice of God calling. Eyes straight, bible tucked in her matching purse, mind engaged unravelling the song being played by the organ, she sat on the third row from the front. Mom stood to the entrance of the door beneath the speaker above, humming the same tune fixed in the air by the organ. When all of a sudden the siren was heard, a blast from the street that ran in front of the church. As it got closer, distinction was made between police and ambulance. Pulling up across from the church, the holt to the siren, gave chase to who and why in the neighbourhood. The Preacher brought his altar call to a conclusion as if wanting to take his ministry out of the walls of the church. Between the smells coming from the kitchen and the commotion coming from the street outside the church, the people made their choices on which side they wanted to be on. Mom wanted to go to see if she could be of help next door, but as the people filtered up to be seated at the table, the promises that the pots made from the kitchen left no choice for sister pastor, but to hurry and feed folk who where ready to be fed. The prayer was over, and the pastor who normally stands at the door to greet new and old members, had already made his way to the seen of fleshing lights. Little princess bolted out the door, to catch up with dad, and with her hat flapping in the wind to keep pace with her, only her bible purse was fixed secure in her run. People standing on the church property, others the street corner, and still others in cars, slowly winging their way through traffic while stealing a look of their own to size up what was going on. An elderly deacon saw it in slow motion, his pulse and heart rate racing but his voice and arms unable to be summoned by his brain could only watch as Princess floated in on coming traffic. With the driver's eyes fixed in the direction of events related to the commotion, he hit little princess without applied brakes. Hat went one way tiny shoes another, only her purse secured lay with her sprawled on the street as the noise from the big bang made by a tiny body, gave rise to squeaking breaks...nj