THE SHADY LITTLE CHURCH
ECHOES OF A HOUSE
The Shady Little Church
Two hours into our little weekend road trip, and there it was, the last remaining holdout in this big city. There, amongst the towering giants, blanketed in their shadows, we spotted it. The last of a once big beautiful suburban neighborhood.
Surrounded on all three sides by modern-day skyscrapers, this little house just looked so out of place. As we walked past it, I could tell it was situated on about an acre of land. We also noticed that it was not just a house, but In fact a duplex. The building itself was very worn looking. The brick was a pale, faded yellow. The windows looked like they needed replacing, and the paint on the door was chipping off.
There was a sign out front, to the left of the building, that said it was now being used as a church. That got me thinking. Did the owners of this lovely little duplex disguise it to save it, or did they truly intend to use it as a place of worship?
It almost looked abandoned as we passed by it. If it had not been for a lovely young lady bringing a bag of trash to the bin, we would’ve thought it to be empty. The young woman was dressed like an old pioneer woman. I remember thinking it odd, as it was extremely hot that day.
A few really fancy cars pulled into the parking lot as we rounded the corner. I could see them pulling around to the back gravel lot. They were jet black, fully tinted Lincoln Navigators. Top of the line according to my husband. He was so in awe of those vehicles that he had to stop and leaned against the fence to check them out.
He was rambling on about all the gizmos and gadgets the cars had when I noticed the people that exited from the vehicles. I elbowed him in the ribs to get his attention, I shake my head in the direction of the cars. Two very well dressed gentleman had just emerged from the lead car. They were extremely buff and were wearing dark sunglasses. They walked to the side of the car behind them. They stood with their backs to it like a pair of security guard bookends.
We assumed it must be someone very important to have a security escort like that. I imagined a politician or a famous actor was about to pop out of there. Suddenly one of the bookends opened the door, were we could see a very large man struggling to get out. He had to get some assistance from one of the meathead guards. Once he got his balance, he began to adjust the gown he was wearing. The gown was almost floor-length, electric blue with gold inlay on the seams. He was wearing a dark black suit under it all, similar to ones worn in one of those mobster movies.
We figured he was the leader of this ragtag congregation. He had on several oversized rings on almost every one of his pudgy little fingers. He was talking rather loudly on the gold and diamond encrusted cell phone. Sounded like he was discussing dinner plans with whoever he was yapping with. His two beefy bodyguard looking dudes walked one step behind him as he crossed the dusty lot.
The plump gentleman paused just outside the door on the left side of the building. Without saying a word, he stood still and waited for one of his goons to open the door for him. My hubby and I just looked at each other in disbelief. Did we just watch a mobster walk into that converted little church?
The hubby, not caring and oblivious to it all, continued on with his rambling. I, on the other hand, was hit with a sudden flood of creative scenarios from what we had just witnessed. My imagination was firing off like the grand finale of a fireworks show. One crazy scenario after another playing out in record time in my head. The one I loved the most was the mobster one.
I choose to believe that the mob bought and owned this beat-up converted little church. They probably bought it as a way to launder money without being on anyone’s radar. I like to think they were in bed, so to speak, with someone high up in the city planning department. They most likely gave said person some kind of financial kickback to look the other way. Essentially, helping the city preserve this little building from becoming yet another towering skyscraper monstrosity.
I believe the gentleman we saw with the blue and gold robe on was the leader of that mob. He’s was the one that made that shady deal with the city planning department. I imagined that person in that department shaking in their boots when approached, but brave enough to get a caveat added to. I feel the person at the city planning was the ones that insisted they turn it into a church. That as long as the mob guy held an actual day of worship each week, they’d be willing to look the other way.
The gentleman disappeared behind the faded white door seconds before more vehicles entered the lot. They were nowhere near as fancy as the large man’s car, nor did they have bodyguards. They were nice-looking cars nonetheless.
Within minutes, the lot was abuzz with activity. People were pulling tables, chairs, and canopies out of their cars. Some were bringing out trays of food and coolers full of ice. The flurry of activity caught my hubby’s attention. He nudged my side, and pointed over to a sign that hung on the far side of the fence. We must have missed it when we walked past it.
The sign said “Cookout, activities, and more. Come out for some delicious food and tons of fun. Meet our community and help us save our little church!” So, of course that grabbed the hubby’s attention. We decided to get a better look, and as we made our way to the lot we were met by the most delicious, savory, aroma, it smelled so amazing.
There, behind the little duplex church, was an oversized grill with clouds of smoke billowing from it. That had to be where that incredible smell was coming from. We weren’t even hungry until that smell tickled our noses. We decided to hang out and see if we could not only get something to eat, but maybe volunteer too. We approached the man who was tending to the grill. He didn’t speak but lifted the lid of the grill for us to see what he had cooking. Our mouths were watering from the eye candy displayed in front of us. There was a sign on the table next to him with a list of items and their prices.
The mob boss, or should we call him, the head of the little church. He came out and greeted each and every person that had just arrived. I’d like to think he wasn’t just saying hello, but collecting his weekly payments to be laundered. We grabbed some grub and got busy helping the others.
We spent a few hours of that road trip helping to save that wonderful little holdout. It warmed our hearts to do some much-overdue volunteering and give back to such a deserving community. We just hope the mob boss, sorry, head of the little church was happy with our work. We don’t want to find ourselves with a new pair of cement shoes.