It's hard to know what part of Sunday I look forward to the most. Is it the praying, singing, sermonizing -- or is it the time spent afterward, on the church house grass, talking with you all? Whatever is the best part, this Sunday we didn't get any of it. Who could have known that the flat key on the old pump organ would go even flatter and every bee in the county would think it was a call to arms? There was more bees in that church than there have been prayers in the last seventy-eight years. What with swatting and stomping, yelling, hooting, and hollering -- you would have thought some new brand of religion was celebrating by setting off the fireworks that the county fathers banned yesterday (due to the lack of rain and high winds, you understand). It seemed the only thing any of us could do was light out and head for cover. The exterminator people tell me we can get back in the church in time for Wednesday's 2 PM meeting of the ladies of the church. The ladies will pack cookies to send to some of our missionaries in Washington DC. The good Lord knows those poor missionaries have their work cut out for them there -- and if cookies will ease their burden, it is the bounden duty of all the ladies of the church to get out the mixing bowls and stir up a mess of chocolate chippers, oatmeal, peanut butter, and RiceKrispies-with-marshmallow-bars. Since we couldn't have church this morning, it was suggested that we use letters to have our meeting. (That will do for the services, but there was so much I needed to talk with you about, after church out on the grass. To encourage DeeDee to just ignore that sharecropper -- all the time watching that he stay out of her henhouse. And to ask Miz Cane if she had stripped that bed, washed all the covers, and kerosened the bedsprings. I wanted to thank Aunt Edna for her prayers for Precious Jade and for her egg money.) But to get back to the services. Since it is the Sunday after the anniversary of our Glorious Independence,it was planned that the choir open with the Battle Hymn of the Republic. We felt it was safe this year since the member who had broken forth with "Three Cheers for Jeff Davis" has joined another church. Then, after the usual prayers, and several more hymns (the substitute organist had been practising America the Beautiful all week with her grandchild whom she had taught to accompany her on a snare drum), the theme of my sermon was to be "Independence from Sin, Dependence on Forgiveness.". I don't think it would be as moving in writing as in the speaking, so I'll save it for next year this time. Nothing like having a little something set aside for future need. Before I go off to labor in the fields, so to speak, I want to ask that you all pray for Belle Ringer. I feel she was unjustly treated by Sheriff Ying. You should pray for him, too. I know that will be hard for you, and to confess, it is hard for me to pray for Sheriff Yang. But I do. Oh yes I do. Preacher