The millionaire who had donated his estate to the church

had made money from whatever war was underway

and the sanctuary was filled with furs on Sunday morning

The Women’s Guild officiated in the mansion next door

in burgundy carpeted dining room with dark wood paneling and

oil painting of peacocks bowing gracefully

The smell of strong coffee meant the service was about to end

and social hour about to commence

and the millionaire’s grandfather clock in the foyer

showed the phases of the moon

Coffee was their drug of choice

The women dealt it with solemn dignity from

a silver service

carefully maintained

My earliest Sunday school lesson:

finding out that Jesus loves me

My next to last lesson:

finding out that my Sunday school teacher wanted to molest me

and that Jesus was not on his mind