preaching practice

My grandmother, Mutt, was a florist in a small town in northwest Tennessee for nearly four decades. As a child, I loved to visit her at the Hospital Flower Shop for many reasons, not the least of which was that whenever I walked in the door - even if it was only 8:00 a.m. - she insisted that I help myself to a glass bottle of Coke from the antique machine in the front of the store. 

One of the many things that fascinated me in the Hospital Flower Shop was a pegboard on the wall near my grandmother's desk that featured a vast array of keys. These keys provided the shop's employees with access to most of the churches in the area, allowing them to make the weekly delivery of altar flowers at their convenience. My grandmother made many of these deliveries personally at the break of dawn each Sunday morning. I thought Mutt must be one of the most powerful people in town to have access to so many churches!

Early one Sunday morning as Mutt was making her rounds, she made a stop at a small church - the kind where you open the front door and find yourself standing in the sanctuary. After unlocking the front door and stepping inside, she heard a voice. Looking up, Mutt realized the pastor was standing in the pulpit practicing his sermon - while wearing his pajamas! Not wanting to interrupt his rehearsal but needing to complete her delivery, Mutt quickly and quietly walked down the aisle, placed the flowers on the altar, and made a hasty retreat to her car. 

Preachers, practice makes perfect, but it's probably wise to practice in something other than your PJs.