Preacher Al

I had a great uncle Al, a real character.  He was an Elim preacher and was always joking around.  My Dad was showing Al the sights in Northern Ireland and had driven up the mountain to show him a scenic reservoir.  Unfortunately, the officious security guard on the gate refused them admittance.  Despite all my Dad’s pleas, the guard was adamant.  Uncle Al leaned out the window and in a booming posh voice said

“I didn’t have this trouble when I was Governor of Bahamas!”

The red faced security guard waved them on through.  Uncle Al invited us to his church in Ballymena for a service and I was amazed.  People would shout out during his sermon, things like “Yes, Jesus!” or “Praise the Lord, brother” or “Thanks be to God” at the top of their voices.  I was fascinated it seemed so lively compared to other boring church services and so unpredictable.  At that moment, uncle Al introduced us to his congregation.

“Sitting there,” he pointed at my Dad with an outstretched finger, “is my nephew Bengy from Dungiven, who thinks we all descended from monkeys!”

The entire congregation turned and glared and we slid down lower in our pew.  But even he got fed up with being heckled.  There was a large lady in the front row wearing a huge hat with a single enormous feather at its peak, who screamed out at the top of her voice during his sermon the same phrase,

“Oh, for the wings of a dove, to soar nearer to thee, oh God”, again and again she screamed.

At last, Uncle Al lost all patience, and announced in a resigned tone

“Oh God, stick another feather in her hat and let her go!”

The entire audience roared in approval.  That was the weird thing about uncle Al he seemed to get away with the most outrageous behaviour without causing offence.  It was his abundant good humour that made everything palatable.  He died singing a hymn in his wife’s arms, happy and beaming to the end.