The crew at last Saturday’s work day was passing out more than a little grief about the fact that there was some George Strait playing on the CD player. It seems that we country music fans were slightly outnumbered. So, we took turns with the musical selections. A little George Strait. A little James Taylor. A little contemporary Christian music. Dan Gillis even brought a bluegrass CD with a song about a man who claimed to wear the pants in his family, only his wife told him which pair to wear. We weren’t sure if that song was autobiographical or not.

We had a good breakfast that was put together by Lloyd and Anita Davenport and Craig Yancy. We got started working as a group around 8:30. We were old and young, male and female. Some moved quickly from job to job. Others moved more slowly. Some sang with the music. Some just listened. Through all the fun a lot of work got done. The fellowship hall, by the time the day was completed, was a completely different looking room. We had a good day doing good work.

Saturday was, by all accounts, a rather calm day. No one got hurt. No one got too hot. For all of the paint that was carried ,brushed, and rolled not much went anywhere it wasn’t supposed to go. About the only real excitement of the day was a visitor who came in the back door to the fellowship hall just before quitting time. He, or she, we didn’t know how to tell, was not expected. The visitor was a hummingbird. She (some said they thought it was a female because it was a fairly big hummingbird, and I wasn’t about to comment on the supposition of females being bigger than males, regardless of the species) flew in to the room and began banging up against the ceiling, then against the light panels. We didn’t know what to do. We turned off the lights hoping that the small bird would fly to the door. Didn’t work.

I flashed back to an armadillo hunt, but none of my hunting partners were at the church Saturday. And, I didn’t have my six iron either. Anyway, a six iron is probably too much club for a hummingbird. A hummingbird is probably more like a pitching wedge – maybe even a putter.

Bob Miller to the rescue! Bob grabbed a couple of old sweaters or shirts left in the lost and found box. He gave me one and we commenced to shooing a hummingbird. You can’t shoo a hummingbird. He, or she, doesn’t understand shooing! We waved the shirts and sweaters and actually called out a couple of times, " Go on! Get out! " I don’t think the bird spoke Alabamian. Then we tried to herd it toward the door using the pieces of clothing like mobile fencing. Hummingbirds don’t herd either! Out of desperation, I reached up and grabbed at the bird and it got caught in the fold of the sweatshirt. Hurrying outside, it was turned loose and it flew safely away. Somewhere. Out there. We’ve probably lost any chance to bring that bird into the church.

Anyway, I don’t know what it is about this congregation and animals. First, an armadillo. Now, a hummingbird. But, I am learning about the levels of animal removal from church property. Apparently, mammals are more bothersome than birds because it takes two pastors and three elders to remove a mammal. But for a bird – one pastor and a deacon will do!

Grace and peace