Lots of folks were going in and out of Papa's store as we passed there. Mama said they had waited till the eleventh hour to buy presents to put on the tree.
We could see several people up at the church, too. Uncle Dan and Wallace Goode's papa were at the woodpile chopping kindling. Mrs. Goode and Mrs. Hansen were stooping down by the church doorsteps. At first I couldn't imagine what they were doing. Then, as we got closer, I saw that they had the wall lamps and tin reflectors lined up on the bottom steps and were cleaning globes, trimming wicks, and polishing the reflectors.
Mama told Mierd that the Missionary Society had bought extra oil.
"Y'all gonna light all sixteen lamps, Mama?"
"Every one! After all, it's Christmas Eve!"
As soon as Mama went inside, she and Aunt Lovie started talking about the sagging old benches. They looked at the one with the bad bottom.
"It ought'a be either fixed or thrown away," Mama said. She took hold of one slat and shook it. The whole pew almost fell apart.
"Every last one of them should be taken out and chopped up for firewood!" Aunt Lovie declared. "Then we'd have to get new benches. Pa used to say that when the old church was built the carpenters just nailed together some scrap lumber to use temporarily—till the congregation could buy regular pews. Then, when we put up this church, we foolishly brought the old things on over here."
"Yes, I know," Mama said. "That temporary business turned into a long time. Forty years or more!"
I left Mama and Aunt Lovie still talking about the pitiful condition of the church. Mierd and Sally were shrieking and fluttering around like two young setting hens, so I had to find out what they were looking at out the middle window.