Church Mouse

Due to my discomfort in houses of worship, I initially refused Funmi’s invitations to join him for a service at Plymouth Church. However, one particular weekend we were both having a difficult time due to our collective poor health and, not wanting to break the spell of healing our conversations had cast, decided to come with him on Sunday.

The sermon that day indirectly resolved our collective worries and touched us both deeply. We sang Amazing Grace. I finally understood why Funmi loved this place and it’s people so much. They were open and welcoming. When we got back in the car, we both were amazed how relevant the service really was. Since then, I tried to plan my visits for when I could join him at Plymouth.

The last time I went with him was during a farewell for the church’s interim pastor. In Funmi’s usual direct fashion he asked if he could have John’s number so they could keep in touch, as friends. Funmi didn’t like the thought that there was no possibility he could ever see him again. I don’t know if they did keep in touch but I know it made Funmi very happy that the reverend agreed and they parted with a warm handshake.

There was a dinner prepared which Funmi and I helped set up but politely declined to stay for; I could tell he was getting fatigued and so was I. We stayed to ask around so that Funmi could receive communion for the month; he had missed it due to a chemotherapy treatment. Then the adventure began.

I followed behind, unsure, as Funmi seemed to blindly wander the hallways. He pulled on door handles, wondering what was inside, only to find them locked. Aghast, I begged him to stop (I thought we were breaking some sort of law). Of course, he didn’t.

Funmi smiled mischievously and continued investigating. He gave me a brief tour of the different rooms then got excited when he found the entrance to the balcony. Funmi said he had never been there before and wanted to look around. I stayed back, just knowing that someone was going to catch him and we would get in some sort of trouble. He assured me he was sneaky and would not get caught.

Not two seconds into his not-so-delicate tiptoeing around the balcony, we saw someone walking around the pews below. Upon noticing this, Funmi dropped down to the floor in a graceless squat, as though he could pretend it away. I laughed at him when the cheerful call came from below, “Hi Funmi!” He finally acquiesced defeat. “I thought I saw someone up there,” the man below started before the two had a brief conversation and Funmi turned heel in retreat. We did not get in trouble.

I teased him mercilessly, of course. He took it all in stride and never once doubted his ninja capabilities. Funmi’s confidence was almost infectious. As we finally found the correct room, we found a bench nearby to sit and wait. It was another one of our quiet moments. Though the words that were said, if any, are now long lost to a fuzzy memory and time, just sitting next to him felt absolutely right.

One of our favorite past times was ribbing one another and I will never forget that day, the last Sunday I spent with Funmi before things got really bad, and how he was nowhere near as quiet as a church mouse. His presence was just too loud.