Standard Singularity

This morning I set out to visit a nearby church. It was a cool morning and the roads were slick from recent rains. The skies suggested more of the same, so I packed an umbrella, just in case. I also brought along a Bible, just in case. The roads were quiet, except when cars drove on them. After a few wrong turns, I made it to the church. Some might consider going to church anywhere a right turn, but I was supposed to go left. Anyway, I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before the start of the service. The parking lot was nearly full. Two full rows of guest parking were entirely occupied. I parked some distance from the church and walked to the nearest door. A man held the door for his family and then held the door for me. I thanked him and followed him down the hallway. My unwitting tour guide only led me as far as the children's building. I found myself in an expansive corridor lined with doors. Adorning each door frame was a bright yellow sign that displayed the name of a well known hymn. Inside the rooms, kids scampered about waiting for class to start. I watched my step and managed to make it to the end of the hall without trampling anyone. At the end of the hall, the area was empty. An open staircase led up to an empty atrium. Using my keen sense of direction and having no other option but to help teach kids' Sunday school, I climbed the staircase. A second staircase made up for that second serving of steak at the dinner. Before I could argue the legitimacy of the caloric balance, a man in his 50s appeared and offered me a pamphlet detailing the order of service. I peered into the sanctuary and saw only a few people seated. No one was standing. Despite a full parking lot, the pews were mostly empty. Wood pews were lined up down the middle of the sanctuary. Perpendicular to the two center aisles were a few rows of similar seating. People trickled in and found their favorite seats. A middle aged couple slipped into the pew in front of me. Then a much older duo opted for the middle of the pew on which I sat. With folks guarding each side of the bench, they pried their way past myself, sat down and began chatting with the man and woman on the other end of the pew. As the service was about to start, an even older couple came to rest just behind me. We stood, sang, sat and listened. A talented organist accompanied a harmonious choir through a few hymns. As the offering was taken, the music of J.S. Bach filled the sanctuary. The organist played the hymn "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". This is a classic hymn written by Bach that was first performed in 1723. As the tune was recognized, a flurry of snickering erupted between the aforementioned pairings of people. After that, we took part in World Communion Sunday, where churches around the world all take Communion on the same day. At the end of the service, the music minister explained that the offertory song was selected to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the pastor. The congregation responded with a decrescendo chorus of "ahhh" followed by a smattering of applause. That was the end of the service so I made my way to the main exit (called an entrance only an hour earlier) and shook the pastor's hand. He must have noticed me sitting in the traditional service and asked if it was my first time here. A contemporary service was conducted simultaneously; which I learned later. The excited pastor clinched my arm and lurched me around so that I was nearly at eye level with an elderly woman. She was to show me to the information table per the pastor's commands. I said hello and exchanged a greeting with her husband before resuming my former proper posture. This didn't last long as I lost the ability to hear much of what the old lady said. A distant whisper amidst the din of donut dipping disciples. I stooped to field questions about my origins and field of work. After telling of my studies at an online university, the couple looked stumped and ceased fire with their questioning. They quickly turned me over to the information man and headed for the door. Info guy wore a white dress shirt with a fire engine red vest emblazoned with the title "Greeter". He did just that and more. A moment later, I held a bag full of literature regarding their church. With my free hand, he had me fill out a visitor card. I left the opposite side blank as it pertained to children's details. Info guy learned that I had no kids and said "Not yet, huh?". I told him that I didn't even have a wife. Following in the traditions of the elderly couple, the info guy was stumped. A bewildered expression came upon his face as he searched in vain for something to say. I interrupted his silent musings with a gesture of appreciation. (Also adhering to the custom of the elderly couple, Info guy interjected anecdotes about the array of available Sunday school classes. Among the three folks and my bag of brochures, I learned of classes for little kids, high school kids, and new parents.) He must have known that none of the literature in all of my bag pertained to someone such as myself. Still, he smiled and bid me farewell. I declined dining on donuts and deftly dashed to the door.