Conversations with a Church Mouse

By Warren G Blaisure

One day on October Mountain, about halfway between Pittsfield and Becket, Massachusetts, on the Washington Mountain Road, a hiker is enjoying the lovely fall day when he comes across an old abandoned church. Full of intrigue, he steps inside, and what he comes across next is something he never expects.

As he enters he is shocked to hear a

• Language: English
• Publisher: WG Blaisure Imprint, LLC
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798869031952

Warren G Blaisure

Warren G. Blaisure began education for the purpose of leading others to the knowledge of salvation through Jesus at Faith School of Theology in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, in 1963. He met his lifetime companion, Mary Jane Carr, and together they have five children, fifteen grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren.Blaisure graduated from Faith School in June 1967 and Lee University, in Cleveland, Tennessee, in 1984 with a Bachelor of Science in Biblical Studies, adding post-graduate studies in Hermeneutics. He and his wife have planted and pastored churches throughout the US.Blaisure is also the author of Faith killer: Recognizing Resentment and Buni Tales: Adventures of Soft Paws.

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CONVERSATIONS

WITH A

CHURCHMOUSE

CONVERSATIONS

WITH A

CHURCHMOUSE

W. G. BLAISURE

Conversation with a Churchmouse

© 2023 by W. G. Blaisure. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Published by New Visions Creatives

ISBN: 978-1-962563-00-0 Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-962563-01-7 Hardback

ISBN: 978-1-962563-02-4 eBook

Amara De Falco

[e-mail]

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Printed in United States of America

This book is printed on acid- free paper.

Introduction

Years ago (1984 or thereabouts) I began this chronicle of imagined events. Unfortunately, I got side tracked while trying to find pertinent data for a touch of reality and lost the original material. Twice since then, once by noted author C. M. Ward of Revival Time fame (now passed on) and most recently by four dear friends and family I have been urged to finish the story introduced by Deke Squeak, whom you will meet as you begin to read.

This tale is a ‘lark’. That is, it is purely for fun with a little preaching added just because I can. I do believe you will enjoy the read and might even learn a few things in the process.

However, enough of this blathering and let’s get on to the fun.

W. G. Blaisure

Dedication

I dedicate CONVERSATIONS WITH A CHURCHMOUSE

To:

My lifelong companion and love of my life, Mary Jane

And to all you who read this – may you not only read and enjoy, but learn from the story, for even though it is a fictitious work, the human experience is all too common.

Chapter 1

How it started

The hiker was making good progress walking briskly along the blacktop road crossing a long flat section on October Mountain about half way between Pittsfield and Becket, Massachusetts on the Washington Mountain Road. It was a gorgeous Indian summer day with sun drenched fall flowers adding sweet scents to the wonderfully crisp air.

The hiker glanced to the side of the road and noticed an old abandoned stone and wood church on the Anglican design, setting on a small knoll about 100 feet or so through wild grasses, Indian Paint Brushes, and a riot of fall flowers and weeds. Intrigued, he turned off the road and headed toward the church.

He grasped the thumb release handle and the door opened with a distinct groan. As he entered, dust motes danced in a shaft of sunlight piercing the darkened interior. As his eyes adjusted, he began to see how beautiful it must have been in its days of use, though an air of neglect and decay hung over all.

As he slowly turned to view the rest of the building, he was arrested by the sound of a small clear voice coming from the pulpit area. He didn’t at first see anyone, but then a slight movement in a beam of sunlight on the top of the dusty old pulpit caught his eye.

Hey! Com’ere. Insisted the small voice again and there to his surprise was a mouse and he was speaking!

Close your mouth and come closer. I can’t yell all day or I’ll lose my voice. My name’s Deke (short for deacon), Squeak. Want to know how this church got here? I can tell you. You see I’m a Church mouse. I come from a long line of church mice and I know all about everything that happened in this one ‘cause I’m in charge of its history. Speak up, you want to hear or not?

Uh, sure, I guess so.

Do you want to or not? Make up your mind. I ain’t got all day to lallygag around; I’ve got lots of other things to do, but part of my job is to tell the story if you want to hear it. Well, do you?

Now the hiker responded clearly, Yes. He was still a little shocked to have a mouse talking to him, but was caught up in the moment and more than a little intrigued.

Well brush off a spot on that pew and get comfy, this will take a little while to tell, but you’ll love it, guaranteed!

Quickly the hiker sat on the dusty pew, dust and all. The crotchety, miniature megaphone, bursting with purpose and pride, cleared his throat with a loud ‘ahem’ and began.

"The year was 1868 and the men had returned from the war (Civil War, ya know). Everyone was recovering from the terrible destruction in the South and in the homes of those whose men had not returned. Two small towns had been built one a half mile to the East and the other a half mile to the West of where the church stands.

"The women of both towns wanted a church and a preacher to lead them in the path of good and right living, because their men and sons had picked up some bad habits during the war. But even though they planned and plotted, there was no way either town could afford to build a church and hire a preacher.

"Then one day Molly Brig of East town got a grand idea! They would ask West town to join them in sharing funds to build a church halfway between their towns and each would take a month of support for the pastor on alternating months. By sharing the cost, they could have their church and pastor!

"Everything sounded good to the women, but when they asked their men, they ran into resistance. First it was pride that slowed the idea – (Ain’t goin’ to ask West town for no help. If we can’t do it on our own, ain’t goin’ ta get done!)

Then John Brig put his foot down, We can’t ask West town to help us because Rob Bennigan and his sons live there.

Molly, with her hands on her hips, snorted, What’s that got to do with it?

Ain’t sayin’, John fired back, but that is not goin’ to happen. No man of East town will have anything to do with those Bennigan’s. He turned and walked away, back ramrod straight and anger in every step.

Molly turned to the other ladies of the East town saying, Well I never…! What are we going to do now? What did I say that got John so mad?

Sarah Billings spoke up, Molly, don’t you know there has always been trouble between Rob Bennigan and our men folk? They just can’t stand the sight of him. They won’t talk about it so I don’t know what the problem is, but we’ve got a mountain of mad to climb if we are going to get what we all know we need. I for one am not going to let them get away with it. We’re going to get our church and preacher!

That’s right, echoed the other ladies.

Molly reached out her hands and said, Ladies, let’s pray. We know God is for our purpose and will help us know what to do.

Grasping each other’s hands, they prayed fervently for favor from God and their husbands and for wisdom to know what to do.

* * * * *

That Molly was one persistent lady, Deke stated emphatically. "Add to her Sarah’s boldness and the determination of the rest of the East town ladies, those poor men had no clue what they were in for.

"When the men arrived at their respective homes for supper, the table was empty except for a bowl of broth and a piece of hard bread. You could hear the bellering all over town. Then there was a quiet murmuring followed by doors slamming one after another as the men headed for the tavern for a meal of indignation.

Laughing and rolling around on the dusty pulpit top, Deke could hardly control himself as he gasped out, Boy I wish I could have been the little mouse in the corner watching that scene. Those ladies sure knew how to get to their men. Ya know, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’.

"Those men of East town lasted for 5 days and then finally gave in to the idea to ask the West town Father’s if they would join them in this church venture.

"Those West town men were a little tougher, or their wives didn’t get tough on them as fast, but give in, they did, and soon plans were drawn up and the building started taking shape.

"A committee came together to find a pastor and letters were sent out. Soon letters came back spelling out what each preacher required before he would consider coming. I mean, you know how preachers are, after money and all that.

"After 6 months and no preacher who would fit their budget, both towns were getting anxious about ever finding a preacher, when they got a letter from one who sounded like he would fit.

"The church was finished and the preacher was called to come.

Now the fun really started," snorted Deke.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

What have we got here?

Ambling into town on a dust drenched, swayback, mouse-brown ancient worn out cayuse, the long, lanky fella of indeterminate age, slouched in the saddle. He was narrow in shoulder, skinny, except for a small round pot-belly, wearing a totally shapeless mangled hat. With big ears bent at 90 degree angles sticking out under the hat brim; long nose sunburned at its tip; 3 days growth of beard and a broadcloth suit hanging in long wrinkles from his boney frame, he was not much to look at. But when you saw his eyes…! Those eyes were burning with a fiery blue flame. Here was a puzzle. Who was this stranger?

On the boardwalk, under the cover of a store porch roof a town loafer named Sam, leaned in a wooden chair with his feet up on the tie rail. He was chewing tobacco and spitting every once in a while into a spittoon set on the edge of the boardwalk. He spied the stranger, thinking, What have we got here?, cut loose with a brown stream that only half got in the target, and called out,

Hey fella, where ya going? Looking for the church.

It ain’t here in town; it’s about a half mile on West on the North side of the road. Why are you lookin’ for the church? Are you needing the preacher?

I am the preacher, he said quietly.

You sure don’t look like much of a preacher. You’re just kiddin’ me, aren’t you?

No, I am for sure the new preacher. Really! What’s your name?

Daniel Doright. That’s right, Doright.

Well, you won’t see me in church, Preacher. I don’t like church and never will.

I guess that’s up to you, the preacher replied. If you want to go to hell, that’s your choice. Then he turned the horse (it really was a horse under all that dirt!), and headed out of town.

Sam’s feet hit the boardwalk as he went into a coughing fit choking on his tobacco at the preacher’s response.

* * * * *

Told you things would start getting fun, snorted Deke. I wish I could have seen Sam’s face after that preacher’s remark. It would have been priceless! That was one sharp preacher.

Chapter 3

West Town

But things were just warming up. Over in West town Dottie Meacham was getting things ready for the preacher to stay with her family for the first month. They had drawn straws to see who would get that honor, and she had won. Bob, her husband, wasn’t too thrilled, wondering out loud how much that preacher would eat and if he snored when he slept.

The town was all abuzz over the coming Sunday events: dinner on the grounds, their first communion in years, and hearing the Word of God preached by a real preacher! Wow! This was the biggest thing to happen in these parts since the pigs ate Widow Smith’s prize pumpkin pies – all 6