From the Church’s Valentine Box

Do you remember those sheets of cheap paper, purchased for a nickel and given to assorted people on Valentine’s Day? They didn’t represent True Love—the loving kind had cupids and hearts on lacy paper, not caricatures in lurid color on newsprint. But they still expressed a kind of crude affection, like unrefined oil that sometimes spills and mucks up our beaches, yet is necessary to make the world go round.

Here is a recent offering of newsprint valentines addressed to familiar people in the church.

TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE WOMEN’S FELLOWSHIP:

Hail to thee, Queen of Potluck Meals,

Of circles, rummage and bazaar deals;

Shall our chicken be creamed, with peas from a can,

Or baked in the oven with rice in a pan?

I’ll call the whole committee together so we can come to a united decision.

TO THE YOUTH WORKER:

Your years, dear friend, show more and more,

And have you seen the Wittenburg Door?

Exit relational theology,

And enter gerontology.

Wow! Far out! Could you talk a little louder, please?

TO THE PASTOR:

You complain that people at twelve o’clock sharp

Stop paying attention and begin to carp;

Yet knowing they’ve already listened plenty,

You “Finally brethren” until twelve-twenty.

Since TV came in, I’ve found more sin and less and less hunger for the Word.

TO THE TRUSTEES:

The Singing Christmas Tree was good,

But where’ll we ever store the wood

That’s cluttering up the parking lot

Until December’s fresh “Fear not”?

Is there room in the hangar with the Gospel Blimp?

TO THE CUSTODIAN:

We give you our pews, our toilets and kitchen

Expecting them to be made shiny and glisten,

And when after thirty-six meetings they’re not,

We want you to know that your smile helps a lot.

I’m glad. Now how about raising my pay or giving me help?

TO ...

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