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Even Sunday service are not sacred
Good folks of Lennox Valley
Lennox art-full

More often than not, Sunday was the most anticipated day of the week in The Valley. It’s not because anything earth-shattering took place in the four sanctuaries each week, but most folks like having people and places in their lives that don’t change significantly over time, and the Sunday service was just such a place.

At the Lennox Valley Methodist Church, Sarah Hyden-Smith was making last-minute preparations for the service. She came in early on Sundays, usually around 6:30 a.m., to make sure everything was ready for Sunday school and worship.

The Methodists count on certain activities. Normally, they begin with announcements and then sing an opening hymn, usually written by Charles Wesley, brother of Methodism’s founder, John Wesley.

As Sarah prepared, Father O’Reilly had already begun the first of two services. The Catholics referred to their service as a Mass, which made most of the Baptists and even some Methodists wonder what was actually going on inside All Saints Church.

At 8:25, Brother Billy Joe Prather made his way to his chair, behind the pulpit of First Baptist Church. Brother Billy Joe didn’t use notes as he preached, so he used these last few minutes to pray for inspiration.

Being six days before Oct. 31, Brother Billy Joe would firmly remind his congregation trick-or-treat early on Saturday night while being careful to wear suitable costumes. He suggested Moses, Mary and David were appropriate characters, allowing children to share in the festivities while also evangelizing.

One day earlier, Iris Long overheard Marvin Walsh telling his friends Raymond Cooper and Earl Goodman, "See you in church."

Regardless of countless references to his scriptural prowess and spiritual leadership on his radio show, Iris knew Raymond never attended worship, other than a few visits to the Lutheran church just before the election. She also knew Marvin hadn’t been a regular churchgoer in years, having become upset when First Baptist began singing "rock and roll" songs in church back in the ’70s. He especially disliked "Kumbaya," having no idea what the song was about, prompting several letters to the editor of Hometown News.

Iris guessed if Raymond was to meet Marvin in church, it would be at the contemporary service at Valley Lutheran Church. It was, after all, the place Cooper experienced his "great conversion" before the election.

At 8:28, Brother Jacob welcomed Iris as she entered the fellowship hall where the contemporary service was held. Visitors were rare at the 8:30 service and were greeted warmly. She had been to the service once before, taking a photo and writing a story about the new service for the Hometown News. She now took a seat in the back row of folding metal chairs.

Iris counted 14 folks in attendance as the electronic keyboard began to play, but there was no Raymond Cooper nor Marvin Walsh in sight. At 8:32, she heard some type of commotion coming from the door behind her. She turned to see Raymond walking in alone, then taking a seat in the third row, one ahead of her, on the far end of the row.

As the congregation stood to sing, "Mighty is Our God," she heard another noise coming from behind. It was Marvin, who had walked into the fellowship hall but seemed to be talking to someone outside the partially open door.

"Good Lord," she murmured. "What are they up to now?"

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