The sanctuary was lovely, though simple. The piano was a small spinet. There was an organ, and two guitars stood to the side of the platform next to a drum kit.
Dee Anna thought of the beautiful old sanctuary in Madison, the stained glass, the pipe organ, the ornately carved pews. "We're not in Madison anymore, Toto." She pushed the image from her mind and quietly placed herself towards the rear of those who had already gathered in the pews. The pews were cushioned, Dee Anna was glad to see, in a shade of blue that coordinated with the carpet runner. A few more people entered and greeted those already seated as they found their places.
Sunday School was uneventful. Jim “Portly Bald Guy” Johnson was a good teacher. Dee Anna realized that she had not expected him to be particularly interesting. It was obvious, however, that he had spent time in study and that he was an educated man. What had she thought—that he was a lumberjack? From the interactions it seemed that some in the class were familiar with scripture, but others were not.
Afterwards, some time was spent sipping coffee and munching donuts. These were in a small fellowship room that was located to the side of the sanctuary. Dee Anna greeted each of the deacons and met their wives. She shook Dennis' hand and thanked Marla for the nice breakfast in a basket.
Deacon Chad, Lorene confided, was single. Dee Anna wondered if Lorene had overheard the compliment he’d given her in the entry. "He is all of 25," she thought, "pretty young to be a deacon." Chad nodded to Dee Anna from a corner where he stood sipping coffee and talking with two other young men.
Dee Anna was relieved when the break was over. She never was much good at small talk, and she was growing nervous. As someone began playing prelude music on the sanctuary piano, most of the people exited. Dennis Whitewater gestured for Dee Anna to remain. “We’d like to pray with you," Dennis said, extending a hand.
As they entered the sanctuary, Lee told her she could sit on the platform. Dee Anna hadn’t noticed the two chairs near the drum kit. Imagining clashing cymbals, she told him she preferred to sit on the front row. She noted that someone had lit the candle on the altar table, and had apparently added the communion plates under a white cloth.
The service proceeded in an unremarkable manner. Jim Johnson led the congregation of about 100 in a responsive call to worship. A brown-skinned middle-aged man directed the congregation in singing three hymns. “A relative of Indian Chief Whitewater?” wondered Dee Anna. An elderly man played the organ, but there was no sign of musicians for the other instruments. A women's trio sang an updated version of “The Lord’s Prayer” during which she scanned her sermon notes. Someone prayed for the offering and plates were passed. "So far, so good," thought the preacher of the day.