THE IRISH I M van parked outside the German Lutheran Church makes me laugh.
And it’s good to laugh on a Sunday morning when the power has been out for hours and the Lutheran ladies have been scurrying, along with their anxious husbands, to cart roasters of hot food from the church basement.
It is the morning of Trinity North Morristown’s annual fall dinner and the worst possible date for the power to fail at a nearby substation.
Upstairs in the sanctuary, pews are nearly empty as congregants scramble to move food to the homes of parishioners with power and to nearby Camp Omega. Eventually the pews fill. The church organist gathers her songbooks from the balcony and hurries to the piano at the front of the sanctuary.
The pastor jokes, during the morning worship service, about his strong and resilient German Lutheran congregation, then prays later for the electricity to come back on.
But when he blesses worshipers, the lights are still out.
So the well isn’t working and the toilet can’t be flushed except it can with water hauled in milk cans to pour into the toilet tank.
Outside, the scent of coffee wafts from an open kettle set atop a propane fueled burner.
Tickets for the dinner are selling and diners file in a side door, up the steps and into pews to await dismissal to the basement. Food has been hauled back, down the stairs, into the semi dark kitchen.
In the dim light of the sanctuary, conversation flows with the comfort that comes from visiting within the close confines of a small country church.
Then, just like that, the lights flick on at 11:10 a.m. Applause erupts. An audible gasp escapes, though, when the power flickers, off and on, before remaining on.
Diners file to the basement, the IRISH I M and the Lutherans, to feast on ham and turkey and to give thanks for an answer to prayer.
© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling