You are so not in the club.

"What club?"

"The church club."

"Yeah... I noticed."

We went to the VTC again today. They don't really break between Sunday School and the service (the pause is only long enough for the pianist to walk to the front of the church and sit down), and two and a half hours is just a bit long for the little guys to sit still and quiet without any kind of a break (potty, snack, stretch-yer-legs). So we decided to go for the service only, which the sign says begins at 10:35. We got there at 10:30. Sunday school ended around 10:50, and they moved right into the service. We got out of there at almost one. I asked what time they normally end Sunday School (thinking that perhaps today had been a special study), and was told, "Whenever I finish." Oh. Well, that'll make planning easy.

After the service, the pastor's wife approached and mentioned that it's been a while since she's vaccumed in there and hoped we didn't encounter too many bugs when I'd taken EmBaby to the far back for a bit. (We did. They were pretty numerous. The windows are filthy, too, and the place could use a dusting.) She said she'd get the vaccum out and bring it over and tidy up a bit, and so I offered to come and help. I've never been in a congregation that wasn't clamoring for women to come help clean the church. That is, never been to one until today. You'd have thought I'd said I'd come clean her home. Nope, they don't need any help with cleaning the church. OK, well, you know, if you ever do the big spring cleaning, or need help with the woodwork, or whatev--- "NOPE. We don't need any help ever. We're fine."

Uh-huh.

On the way down the steps, I asked the pastor about two of the ill who'd been mentioned in the prayers that morning, and let him know that if anybody is ever ill or homebound and they need someone to do grocery shopping or bring meals, please don't hesitate to let me know. His response took me by surprise: "We take care of our own in this community. We don't turn to any 'church organizations' when we need something." He expounded a bit, but it didn't make any more sense than that, and wasn't nearly as gentle.

That, a few other things, all of it together, struck me as... odd. Isn't a congregation part of the community? Isn't it the calling of the church to take care of those who need care? I wasn't offering to send out FEMA requests, or to call in a representative from a large national organization to come survey the situation and make recommendations. I was offering to help, myself, in person. Coming from a pastor, as well, the facial display of ironic quotes when he said "church organizations" seemed a bit... well, off. I thought maybe I was just being prideful in feeling snubbed so curtly, and decided not to say anything more about it.

Then on the drive home, Zorak hit me with the observation above. That's how it sure looked from his point of view. Folks, just a tip: when someone from outside your faith sees the flock snubbing other believers, it's Painfully Obvious. You're not being subtle, or probably even kind.

*sigh*

I know. We're not "from here". You don't have to remind me. (And I wish the people who are From Here would stop making such a point of it, themselves.)

I don't know how long this congregation has been down to five people, but it seems its been long enough that they've become settled in their ways. To the pastor's wife, it probably felt as if I *did* offer to come clean her home. In her mind, that's her church. She cleans it. She decorates it. It's hers. I wouldn't even say she knows she's developed that attitude, honestly. She acted more offended by my offer than anything.

Same thing with not taking a fellowship break between Sunday School and the service. Everybody who comes is there, so let's just move on. It's comfortable for them, and it works... for them.

And the pastor's response to an offer of a warm body to help out when help is needed? I have no idea.

But I want to cry.