Here are some side notes, not very missionary related, I'd like to share. Mom will appreciate the organ experience. Imagine freely.
If at all possible, I'm taking it upon myself to program the old organ in the chapel. It doesn't have any presets set up, and the stops it's currently set to sound like they're blasting from an evil witch's castle. It has a wobbly wobbly vibrato, and it's quite nasally. What makes it more awesome is that the organists usually play these minor classical fugues as prelude music, which adds to said castle effect. So when I played, since I stepped up last minute, I didn't have a chance to play with the stops. But of course, what is the opening hymn? Ring Out Wild Bells. Only the most minor hymn in the hymnbook. I started too soft, and since no one was really singing since it's an uncommon hymn, I had to let loose some pretty blaring stops partway through. It was an interesting experience. Blessed organs.
Crazy Story
Before I flew down south, I'll admit I'd pondered and explored the possibility of having a gun pointed at me from some crazy old man on his wrap-around porch. So, it happened. But it was no angered southerner holding the rifle...it was a member!
Allow me to explain.
We were going to carol (in a poorer spot of town) to a member family, so we parked in front of their house. We must have moseyed in the car for a moment too long, because soon the porch light turned off suspiciously as we started walking up to the door. It was dark, but I vaguely saw a figure outside on the porch. Sister Buhler nudged me and said, "Let's start singing now." We started singing, and soon loud laughter emerged from the house as an embarrassed Br. O walked inside holding a long rifle. I just about died...I realized he was the figure in the dark, and he'd been holding it aimed RIGHT at ME and MY comPANION! We had a good visit with them. They gave us cookies, we gave them spiritual cookies, then we left. Sister Buhler and I exploded with laughter when we got in the car to leave. Lesson learned, don't linger, or you might get burned. Or shot. Don't take chances.
Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it's Christmas. - Dale Evans
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