Yuks from Yakima: Bathroom Brouhaha

Note: This is the second of a four-part series of true, church-related humor. These are true, unembellished stories that occurred while we were pastoring the Yakima, Washington Wesleyan Church.

It was Sunday morning and the service was just beginning with hearty singing and a good spirit.

Emmett Cameron was just introducing the third hymn when Grandma Harmon quietly slipped out of her usual pew and headed for the back of the church.

We all knew what that meant since the only two avenues to the restrooms were either through a door off from the platform, or out the front doors and around to the side for an outside entrance. Few traipsed across the platform in full view of everyone unless the weather outside was really raw.

Between verses of the song I could hear a hammering and a pounding coming through the closed platform door. I correctly guessed that only Brother Cameron and I could hear the racket (and I was not sure about him), so - after catching his eye - I arose and quietly went through the door.

From that point, Emmett, our excellent song leader, was on his own, and got the workout of his life - somewhat of a mix of an unscheduled concert and a marathon. He chose, and led, song after song while I worked to rescue Grandma Harmon from the ladies restroom.

Some of you have seen those old door with two little brass buttons just below the lock. Grandma saw them, and - of course - pushed one - the one that locked the door.

So here we were, pastor and Grandma Harmon, trying to communicate through the locked door while the congregation sallied forth with copious praises in song. She tried every suggestion I gave her, but only became more and more frustrated.

I finally told her that we would have to removed the door from its hinges, but that I would have to go over to the parsonage and get some tools and a ladder, and pass them through the outside window to her. Obviously, this all took some time, and the small window was the kind that remained just partially open to keep it from breaking or hurting someone. She just could not get the hang of how to take the window out, even with my instructions, so here I was, suited preacher on a step ladder, looking in to the ladies restroom and holding conversation with someone there.

After getting a hammer and screwdriver to her from a half opened window, it was then a matter of giving her much encouragement on how to get the pins from the two hinges lavished with a few coats of paint! She would say that she couldn't do it, and I would say that she could... and all the while Emmett was bravely carrying on in the sanctuary with a couple of dozen songs... to the accompaniment of muted voices from the bathroom, mingled with hammer and screwdriver sounds.

Finally...success! and I re-entered the platform door to the eminent relief of Emmett, and, sure enough, after a bit Grandma came in the back door, sat down, and we both acted like it was something we did each service!