The Broken Church Bell
A Toast • Keep Looking Up
One Minute Wit
A Toast
I don’t mind if people raise a toast to me,
but I hate brushing off the crumbs afterward.
Other Stuff
Keep Looking Up
I saw a city full of eyes
Eyes straight ahead, filled with purpose
Eyes glancing side to side, looking for something more
Eyes quickly turning away when caught by another’s
Eyes down to avoid interaction
Eyes filled with wonder
Eyes lined with sorrow
Eyes of confusion
Angry eyes
Practiced eyes, unreadable
Weary eyes
Kind eyes
Look up, eyes
The unseen awaits
A gentle upward climb of the chin is all that’s required
Visual treasures for those willing to partake
Look up
My youngest daughter lives in New York City. When my wife and I visit, we try to do something different each time. On one visit, we decided to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and get pizza for lunch.
I love walking in New York because you never know what you are going to see. Interesting architecture and interesting people abound. I often find myself pulling out my phone to take a photograph of something that caught my eye. On the Brooklyn side of the bridge, we went to Juliana’s Pizza for lunch. It was quite good. Afterward, we decided to walk to the Brooklyn Bridge Park.
As we were walking along, I noticed we were walking under the Brooklyn Bridge. I had taken plenty of pictures as we were walking across the bridge and a few from the ground. But when I looked up at the bridge from below, I stopped and pulled out my phone to take a photograph. The way the bridge dominated the sky, the angles of the buildings, the lighting, and the touch of nature made this view far more interesting to me than the usual photo of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Keep looking up.
Story
The Broken Church Bell
Mrs. Kindly noticed it first. It was Wednesday afternoon. Mrs. Kindly was on her way to Harold Brioche’s bakery to pick up the cakes and take them to the church.
Every week, Harold baked Beth Kindly two sheet cakes for the Wednesday evening prayer meeting. It was their secret. Mrs. Kindly let folks at the prayer meeting assume she had baked the cakes herself. If they commented, “This cake is delicious, Beth,” she would simply say, “Thank you.”
Some may consider that a lie of omission, but Mrs. Kindly didn’t see it that way. If anyone had asked her outright, “Did you bake this cake?” of course, she would have told the truth. Was it her fault no one had ever asked? The cakes were delicious, and she didn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen baking them. What was the harm?
Now, before you think any less of her, Beth Kindly had baked the prayer meeting cakes for most of her life. But when her dear husband, James, passed a few years back, she didn’t feel much like baking. Harold Brioche had offered to bake the cakes for her at James’ funeral, and Mrs. Kindly took him up on it. They were so delicious she decided to let Harold make the cakes from then on.
Mrs. Kindly was walking across the street from the Willow Stream Baptist Church when, for some reason, she decided to glance up at the bell tower. Was it divine intervention? A fluke? Who can say? But she looked, and she saw it — a large crack in the Church’s bell.
Oh, dear, she thought. I need to let Pastor Ernest know. It wouldn’t do to have the bell go clunk on Sunday morning.
But first, she had cakes to pick up. When she got to the bakery, she couldn’t resist sharing the news with Harold.
“I was walking by the church when I looked up and noticed a large crack in the Church bell.”
“Really. That bell must be a hundred years old.”
“No one really knows. The Welloff family donated it to the town when the Church was built back in 1922. They brought it with them from England when they emigrated to the States. But it could have been old already at the time.”
“What a shame. It won’t be the same on Sunday mornings without hearing the bell ring.”
“It’s a tragedy. I plan to visit pastor Verity after I drop the cakes off at Church.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.”
“Thank you, Harold. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Kindly.”
Mrs. Kindly walked briskly to the Church. She deposited the cakes in the Church kitchen and then made a beeline to Pastor Verity’s house.
Ernest Verity had become Pastor of the Willow Stream Baptist Church right out of seminary. Many folks didn’t like that he was young and had young ideas. But soon, they recognized his heart for people. And time took care of the youth issue. Pastor Verity had made Willow Stream his home, married a local girl, Annie Goodheart, and together they raised three daughters.
Ernest heard a knock on his door and answered it. Before he could even say hello, Mrs. Kindly blurted out the news.
“Pastor, you aren’t going to believe it. I was walking by the Church today when I looked up and saw that the Church bell had a large crack in it.”
“Hello, Mrs. Kindly,” Ernest said. “That is troubling news. I assume it will need to be replaced. I have no earthly idea what a Church bell costs, but I know we have not budgeted for such an occurrence. I will announce it at this evening’s prayer meeting, and we can pray about it.”
“Yes, indeed. I just thought you should know right away.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kindly. I will see you tonight.”
“Of course. Goodbye, Pastor.”
That evening, the congregation assembled and prayed for wisdom concerning the broken bell. Pastor Verity scheduled a special business meeting with the elders and deacons for Tuesday evening. Naturally, all members of the congregation were invited to attend.
Tuesday evening came, and the Church was full. Mrs. Kindly was surprised to see baker Harold Brioche sitting in one of the pews, him being an atheist and all. She smiled and sat next to him.
“I have prayed many times that one day I would see you sitting in our Church. I am delighted. Even if it is just a business meeting.”
“Well, I admit, I am a little uncomfortable, but I am curious about your plans for the bell. In fact, I would like to help. But it will require revealing our little secret.”
“The cakes?”
Harold laughed. “Of course. Do we have any other secrets?”
Mrs. Kindly chuckled and said, “None that I am aware of. I cannot imagine how revealing our secret will help with the bell problem, but I am not that proud. If it will help, go ahead and tell everyone. Please.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kindly.”
Just then, the business meeting got underway. Pastor Verity started it off. He said a brief prayer asking for wisdom regarding the bell and then got down to business.
“Brothers and Sisters, as you are all aware, our beloved Church bell is cracked. I made a few calls, and the price for a replacement is well beyond our means. Barring a miracle, I am afraid we may have to leave the bell as it is and no longer ring it. If anyone has another idea, I am eager to hear it.”
Deacon Ben Handy spoke up. “Pastor, I was telling my father in Michigan about the bell. He knows a man who sells reconditioned and historical bells, and he said he could get us a replacement for ours for $5000.”
“Thank you, Ben. I appreciate your initiative, but that is still well beyond our grasp financially.”
There was considerable murmuring throughout the building. Then Harold Brioche stood up.
“Harold. What a pleasant surprise. Do you have something to add?” Pastor Verity asked.
“Yes, sir. As you all know, I own the town bakery. But what you may not know is I have been baking the sheet cakes for Wednesday evening prayer services for about five years now. I offered to do it when James Kindly passed away as a way of supporting Mrs. Kindly during a difficult time. That first week, Mrs. Kindly insisted that she pay for the cakes. I refused, telling her I was doing it as a friend. The following week, Mrs. Kindly asked me if I would continue baking the cakes. I agreed. Once more, she insisted I take money for the cakes. Again I refused. When she came to the bakery the third week, she said, ‘You will take this money for the cakes, or I will take my business elsewhere.’”
Everyone in the church laughed. Then Harold continued.
“I didn’t want Mrs. Kindly as an enemy, so I agreed to take the money.”
There was more laughter.
“But something inside me—I don’t know what—told me to put the money aside. So I did. And I continued to put the cake money aside every week. I don’t know why I did it, but I do know that I want to donate the money toward replacing the bell. Here is $1000.”
There were gasps throughout the auditorium.
“That is an incredibly generous offer, Harold. Thank you. But I am afraid it still leaves us far short of what we need.”
Just then, Richard Stocker, the local grocery store owner, stood and said, “I will give 5% of my profits this month to the bell fund.”
“And I will give 5% of my haircuts to the bell fund,” said Calvin Clipper, the barber.
More church members stood to offer donations. Soon “bell fever” swept through the entire town.
Six months later, on a Saturday, the Willow Stream Baptist Church held a picnic for the entire town. It concluded with the ringing of the new Church bell, which had just been installed.
Mrs. Kindly stood beside Harold and said, “Doesn’t it sound beautiful?”
“It does. I think it may sound even better than the original,” Harold replied.
“I think you’re right,” Mrs. Kindly said and smiled.
“I am sorry I had to tell our secret about the cakes.”
“Ppfft. Apparently, it wasn’t much of a secret. Sally Cookielover saw me coming out of the bakery with the cakes four years ago. Everyone knew after that. They just didn’t say anything.”
Harold laughed, and Mrs. Kindly joined in on the laughter.
“Well, it is a small town,” Harold said.
“Indeed. Come on, let’s have another slice of cake.”
Happy Monday. Thanks for reading and responding. You make it fun.
Mark
The characters in "The Broken Church Bell" all have surnames that reflect their character or occupation. Intentional?
Great stories, Mark. I love your photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Your piece about walking around New York City captures the many individuals and faces you’ll see in a short span of time. Really well done! Thanks for this.