There's a fountain flowing (hmmm) and (hmmm).

(hmmm) and (hmmm)

(hmmm) and (hmmm)

There's a fountain flowing (hmmm) and (hmmm).

Marian had attended Baptist Sunday school, and I had gone to Pentecostal Mission Sunday school, but we both knew that song and had friends from other denominations who also knew it. Our parents probably sang it in Sunday school opening exercises just like we did. Now we were beholding the next generation of Deep and Widers singing the song and doing the "Deep and Wide" hand motions. It boggled my mind to think that kids all over North America-maybe even the entire Western Hemisphere- were hmmm and hmmming this very moment, or according to their respective time zones.

It also occurred to me that adults and teenagers all over North America were sitting in opening exercises with the little kids, doing that song for the zillionth time and feeling silly.

We were sitting in the back. I scanned the pews for the young people. The best place to look was either in the very back or as far as anyone could sit to the side. I counted about twelve, including two silly girls, two stoics, and three Outsiders-cool guys making a statement by slouching together as far away from the proceedings as possible.

We sang a few more standards-"Stop and Let Me Tell You What the Lord Has Done for Me," and "Climb, Climb Up Sunshine Mountain." Then the lady in charge brought out the big plywood figure of Barney Barrel. Barney, a wooden barrel, had long, skinny arms that formed a tipping scale with a coffee can hanging from each hand, and it was his job to collect the missionary offering. Today it would be the girls against the boys. Sister Marvin, the pastor's wife, played the piano, we all marched around the room, the girls put their offering in the pink can and the boys put their offering in the blue. Today the girls won-I saw which one put in the roll of pennies. Clever kid.

Finally we dismissed to our cla.s.ses. Pastor Marvin would be teaching the adult cla.s.s in the sanctuary, but Marian and I wanted to check out the teenagers in their cla.s.sroom in the bas.e.m.e.nt. We followed the Outsiders downstairs and into a small, windowless, echoing room with folding chairs, a low table, and a chalkboard. The rest of the kids straggled in, talking and giggling among themselves, but obviously a little quieter since two strangers were in the room. Not one of them said h.e.l.lo or asked us who we were. I wasn't about to let them get away with that.

"Hi," I said, jutting out my hand. "Praise G.o.d, I'm Travis, and this is Marian!"

The first kid shook my hand and said hi back, looking immediately at the floor.

"What's your name?"

I heard him mumble something like "Bernn."

I leaned closer. I knew I was invading his comfort zone, but that was the idea. "Say again?"

He spoke up a little. "Brian."

We went after the Outsiders. "Hallelujah! Who are you?"

Donny and Steve barely got their names out, but Trevor spoke right up with his. Trevor seemed to be the leader. As soon as he opened up, the other two did. I found out what grade they were in, and what some of their interests were. In the meantime, Marian had struck up conversations with the girls. It was going well when the teacher finally arrived.

She was a young, curly headed gal. She took one look at us and said, "Hi. Who are you?"

*Praise the Lord," I said, reaching over some chairs and kids' shoulders to shake her hand. "Travis and Marian Jordan."

"I'm Lucy Moore. It's nice to have you visiting with us today." Then she said with a chuckle, "Are you sure you're in the right cla.s.s?"

"You bet," I said. "I'm the new youth pastor."

She looked at me blankly for a second, then smiled and shook her head. "No, you're not."

Then she dove into the lesson like a windup toy with the spring too tight and never made eye contact with us again. Marian and I sat there quietly, hesitant to say another word. I shot a glance at Trevor. He just gave me a shrug.

And there was the strangest smell in that room, like someone left a dirty diaper under a chair. I saw a few noses wrinkle, but n.o.body said anything, and I wasn't about to.

IT WAS ACTUALLY A RELIEF when Pastor Marvin had us stand during the morning service so he could introduce us. "I'd like you all to meet Travis and Mary Jordan, our new a.s.sistant pastor. He'll be helping us out with the youth program and whatever else his hand finds to do, so make him welcome." He got Marian's name wrong, but at least we knew we were in the right church.

"WHAT'S HE DOING HERE?" a board member asked before Pastor Marvin even got his office door closed.

Pastor Marvin sat down at his desk and answered like a cornered witness, "Well, we did discuss this, Bill."

Bill, a wiry, curly haired man in his fifties, had veins that stuck out on his forehead, and I think his eyes may have been sticking out a bit too. "You didn't discuss it with me!"

"I didn't know he was coming today," said a shorter, thinner, younger man.

Bill glared at the younger man. "So he told you about it?"

"He said we might try someone out. That's all I heard."

"Well, I should have told you he was coming today," said Pastor Marvin. "It's my fault."

"You shouldn't even have invited him without consulting with the board!"

"Bill," said an older man with a lower lip that stuck out, "we have talked about it."

"We've talked about it; we have not approved it!"

Pastor Marvin broke in, "Gentlemen, before we start the meeting I should introduce Travis and Mary to you."

"Marian," I corrected.

"Oh. I am sorry. This is Travis and Marian Jordan. Travis recently graduated from West Bethel." Then Pastor Marvin formally introduced us to Bill Braun, the angry one; Ted Neubaur, the younger, thin one; and Wally Barker, the older one with the lip. "Uh, where's Rod?"

Ted answered, "He and Marcy had to go right home. Trevor messed in his pants again."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Oh great!"

Wally explained to us, "Trevor's a weird kid. He messes in his pants."

"He doesn't need to know that!"

"Well, he does if he's taking the youth."

"Well, what about Lucy? Has she been told about this?"

No, I thought.

Ted answered, "She was pretty upset when I talked to her. She said he came into her cla.s.s and tried to take over."

"What?" I said.

"We did no such thing!" Marian objected.

Ted continued, "She's the one in charge of the youth right now. n.o.body told her these two were coming."

"n.o.body told anybody anything!" Bill snapped. "See? Now you've hurt Lucy!"

"Well," said Pastor Marvin, "why don't we open in a word of prayer? Dear Lord-"

Let us live, I prayed silently, clutching Marian's hand.

The moment Pastor Marvin said Amen, Bill spoke the first words of the formal meeting. "And you announced his appointment from the pulpit! Before we've even met him or got to know him!"

"I knew your dad," Wally told me with a smile. "How's he doing, anyway?"

"Does he have another job?" Bill asked.

"We'll get to that," said the pastor.

"This was something we talked about, remember? Wally, you're the accountant. Tell him. Again."

Wally's face turned sad as he told the pastor, "We can't swing a full-time salary, especially since we've lost the Cravens and the Johnsons."

"We told you that!"

Pastor Marvin defended himself. "I think we can do it."

"If he has another job," Bill reiterated, and then he looked at me and c.o.c.ked his eyebrows, expecting an answer.

Now they were all looking at me.

"I . . . I understood that this was going to be my job."

"What skills do you have besides Bible college?"

The question stung, not only because it was mean-spirited, but because of how I had to answer. "I don't have any."

"Get some."

"Now Bill . . ." the pastor tried to admonish.

Bill came right back, "I'm being honest. He can't work in a church this size and expect a big church salary package. That's the truth of it."

"Who's paying for the apartment?" Ted asked.

Bill's voice approached a squawk. "What apartment?"

"We discussed that as part of the package," said Pastor Marvin. "He has an apartment?"

It went on and on, with Marian and I cowering in our chairs while the pastor and the board argued right in front of us. I've never had such an experience before or since then, watching my hopes dashed to pieces while almost laughing at the absurdity of it. Finally, I suggested, "Why don't Marian and I leave so you can discuss this freely among yourselves?"

"Yeah, fine," said Bill.

"Okay," said the pastor.

We got up to leave.

Bill didn't even watch us go. "If he can get another job then maybe we can work something out."

MY SHIFT BEGAN at 9 P.M., as soon as the mall closed. My first task every night was to scrub and shine all the public restrooms. The toilets came first, then the sinks, then the stalls, walls, and floors. My supervisor said each rest room shouldn't take more than an hour, but after a week on the job I had yet to cut my time down to less than two. I was working four nights a week and making five bucks an hour.

The toughest toilets to clean were the ones that got clogged sometime during the day but patrons kept using them anyway until the bowl was full. Then the only way to clean them was to ladle the stuff into a bucket, get the toilet unclogged, and ladle it back in again, flushing it down in smaller loads. When I finished, I headed outside to get some air, laughing at the sign on the back of the rest room door: Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work.

This toilet in the north men's room was the worst I'd seen all week.

I flushed the last load and grabbed the toilet brush out of my tool cart. Under my meticulous care, the porcelain bowl would soon be white again.

With her business degree, Marian had landed a good job as accountant and office manager for a small firm that manufactured hydraulic valves and couplings. Suffice it to say, she was making better money than I was and providing the bulk of our living, including the apartment the church decided it couldn't afford.

What skills do you have besides Bible college?

I wanted to slug that guy. Did he think four years of college counted for nothing?

Well, apparently it qualified me to scrub toilets and sinks, refill soap containers and towel dispensers, and mop the floors.

C'mon, let's go, let's go, let's get it down to an hour.

I moved to the next stall. Ah. The last patron's mother had taught him well. This wouldn't take long.

My emotions and thoughts kept shifting back and forth from minute to minute. First, I felt okay about it. As weird, disappointing, and even maddening as it seemed, I accepted this as G.o.d's calling. He was using this time to humble me. I needed to accept and embrace it. I needed to stay put and see it through.

Then I thought of Minneapolis and the well-dressed man with the curly hair and the lady in the white silk blouse and navy skirt.

After so many years, the image still made my stomach hurt. I felt like I was standing in that office again, unqualified, unfit, inadequate, a loser.

What skills do you have besides Bible college?

The answer was the toilet brush in my hand.