Literally, one of our newest members in the church in the village where I serve is a little old lady whose name is Burnice. I hope I’ve spelled her name right, but then you wouldn’t know if I did or did not, would you?
I do not believe that she is even 5 feet tall, but I love the way she dresses. She often times is sporting a very smart hat that accentuates her silver gray hair. She is spry with a twinkle in her eye, and a sharp mind that picks up on subtle twists of phraseology. I love double entendre, and Burnice gets them all.
Today between services I shot out of my office to go to the main office to pick up a revised draft of my sermon (cut out a paragraph, and eliminated a couple of sentences), and behind me I heard her someone intermittently coughing out in the hallway. I glanced back and it was Mrs. Jones. I was already closer to the office than I was to her. As I continued toward the office I fished around in my coat pocket and bingo I felt a Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drop still in its sheath. I thought, "Aha!"
I got the sermon and the Prayer of Great Thanksgiving headed back toward the fellowship center which meant I was going to pass right by her in the hall and asked her if she needed a cough drop.
"Oh, I surely do. I thought I had some in my purse and was fishing around—"
I opened my hand, and as if by magic, there appeared a cough drop on my palm.
Exasperated she exclaimed, "Oh, you have saved me!"
I kept walking and thought "Heh . . . and people thought you had to make a confession of faith to get saved . . ."
