Excited Delirium Book: Chapter 18 (MOMYS II)

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Author’s Note: The following is Chapter 18 of the my online book "Excited Delirium". Please post comments. Please tell your friends about this story. If you’ve missed a chapter, please click here for Chapter 1 (Prelude) or here for the full index .

A small church in Heresford is where the MOMYS, or Mothers of Many Young Siblings, meet every other week. It’s an old church that was built in the 1920s by optimistic settlers, expecting a herd of parishioners to follow them here as urbanites were pushed out of expensive city areas. Instead, they were to discover that the town would be neglected and depleted of people as they left for more promising work opportunities to the south, east or west shortly after the Depression kicked in. Many of the builders left as well, but some of the sturdiest souls remained, especially those whose parents came here an hundred years before.

Part of the church today is the original timber beam structure which, if left alone, would have been quite in vogue today. However, in the 1960s, someone decided that Heresford was about to grow and a larger gathering facility was needed.

The result was a structure that seemed to parody the most brilliant architectural designs. A staggered and inconsistent roof line of aluminum and old plywood clad one side of the building, while the piled logs stacked on top of each other with a marshmallow looking plaster sandwiched in between made it look like the entire building was stuck on opposing sides of a time machine, half wanting to struggle through the now. Wings of even more aluminum surrounded the entry way, like metal wings, giving one a feeling that the entire building might lift off at some point to see the Almighty Himself if it weren’t suitably rooted to the material world.

When the leader of the Univist Church contacted Pastor Baines and invited him to host the MOMYS gatherings, he received an excited and enthusiastic promise of support. Baines had been the pastor with the Univist Church of Heresford for 40 years and relished the idea of being part of The Plan to expand His Armies.

In his enthusiasm, Baines offered anything that the leader needed, but was told that all he had to do was make room for them every Saturday morning from 9AM to 11AM.

Within a few weeks, planning was complete and Baines was ready to supervise the meetings.

“We are the MOMYS. We are the Mothers of Many Young Siblings. We are the bringers of Christ’s glory on God’s Earth. We are the vessel for Our Lord, Jesus Christ and His Master Plan,” the group chanted in unison.

The Univist Church of Heresford basement was much like any basement that was renovated or rebuilt in the 1960s. Most of the walls were covered with a cheap and peeling laminated plywood that was made to resemble oak, but had perfectly straight black lines interrupting the grain like it was laid on a barbeque before being nailed to the walls. Mahogany trim surrounded the room. Yellow vinyl windows, frames cracked and broken from poor construction, most of which no one noticed because the “Travel USA” curtains hadn’t been opened to let natural light in since they were installed many years ago. The ceiling was the aluminum framed, white panel board that was pecked with a thousand holes, perfect for counting exercises for children that couldn’t pay attention in Sunday school. Every few steps in the panels had a light planted inside, protected by the world that revolved below it by a yellowing plastic cover. Occasionally a bulb or two coughed when their age demanded they be replaced. Otherwise, the room was bathed in perfect, unnatural flourescent light.

The unique feature in the room was a mural painting done by Baines’ late wife, Marsha. Shortly before she died abruptly thirty years ago, she made this visual monument to the Scriptures, focusing more on the Old Testament. On it was painted some of the more elaborate and magical events from the Bible. The middle was dominated by a rough depiction of a large mountain, surrounded by water. To the left, there was an oversized Noah with wild, flowing locks of hair, riding a grand ark to the peak of Ararat, or the mountain in the mural, a dove in his hand. Off to Noah’s right was David fighting Goliath in the middle of a vast desert, with David being a little bigger than his adversary. To the right of the mural was Moses making his way down the mountain, which was now supposed to be Sinai, standing against the Red Sea, pushing aside the same waters that his friend Noah was floating on. He held the Ten Commandments in his arms and was pointing to the one that read “Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery”. In the corner of the mural to the right was a sad, lonely and unanimated depiction of Lot’s wife, standing as a wall of salt, forever caught in this strange snapshot like she was waiting for the waters of Noah or Moses to wash over her and make her human again. She stood so small that one would have to look twice to make out that there was a woman depicted in the briny crust.

What few knew about the mural was that David looked like a young Pastor Baines, Lot’s Wife a little like Marsha and Goliath a little like an ex-lover. Obviously, Pastor Baines never even realized this, as he would have immediately painted over it.

Following a visible nod from Pastor Baines, who made it clear that this would be the only meeting he would attend as part of his introduction, one woman stood from an old vinyl folding chair, which oozed a little more of its yellow stuffing as she did so.

The woman was about forty years old, looked reasonably healthy (at least compared to most of the other women in the room), but she had too many lines in her face, evidence of years of regular smoking. She had long brown hair, which would have been called beautiful by a courtier fifteen years ago, but now it showed signs of grey and suffered from a multitude of frayed ends. She wore overalls and had a pink and red tartan shirt underneath, making her look a little like a brunette version of Raggedy Anne.

“My name is Rachael,” she said, a little nervously, as she placed her styrofoam cup on the table beside her. “It’s a great privilege to be here this morning and I wanted to thank Pastor Baines for bringing us together under this great roof,” eliciting another nod from Baines, as he smiled pleasantly.

“I am the mother of twelve children,” she announced proudly as she stood before the small group of about six women and then quickly sat down to join the rest of the women. She was blushing and her hands were busy in her lap with excitement at having been the inaugural speaker at today’s MOMYS meeting.

Baines chose Rachael to lead off the session because he had known her for years, was close to the family and knew that she would be a model for the rest of the other two MOMYS and the remaining women that he was hoping to enlist with the concept. It wouldn’t be a hard sell. Most of these women had nothing better to do.

A second woman rose to make an announcement. She paused with a slight awkwardness that few of the other women noticed. She was wearing a rough looking dress that was a patchwork old jeans and shirts and what seemed to be an old table cloth. She was twenty five, but looked nearly as old as Rachael. She looked heavily used and worn, her skin the same texture as an old pair of work gloves. Bruises were visible on her arms and neck, but one would still have to look closely to see them from liver spots and other natural stains that only the aged usually carry.

“My name is Heather. Our children number eight now,” she said slowly, “but I have only been bringing God’s arrows to this land for six years. We had a double blessing twice with Michael and John and then Lindsay and Mark.” Like Rachael, she was beaming with delight in her accomplishments, despite the emotional and physical scars.

Heather Harken had come to Heresford just a few years ago at her husband’s insistence. He was a senior member of the League for a Univist Tomorrow Everywhere (LUTE) and knew of the plan for the MOMYS many years ago. Of course, Heather knew little of the plan, but she loved and respected her husband dearly and would go to the end of the earth if he asked her to, leaving Bismarck behind and their family them.

Finally, a third woman brought herself up to address the crowd. “My name is Elizabeth. My husband and I have been married for twelve years now and we have brought forth eighteen of God’s great miracles to this world!” Elizabeth had to shout her last few words as the cheers and praise came loudly from the rest of the group.

With that, the monthly meeting of MOMYS began.

(Note: "Excited Delirium" is a work of fiction. Any person, place or thing depicted in this work of fiction is also a work of fiction. Any relation of these subjects or characters to real locations, people or things are an unintentional coincidence.)

Read more with Chapter 19

Did you miss a chapter? If so, click here to see all chapters or click here to go to Excited Delirium: Chapter 1 (Prelude)

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Excited Delirium by Liam Young is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License .
Based on a work at www.exciteddelirium.ca .



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