The cool breeze blowing from the air-conditioning vent above me made my skin prickle as goosebumps spread across my sweaty neck. I sat impatiently in the pew at the very back of the church and shifted uncomfortably in my skirt and blouse. I hated wearing those clothes, but church etiquette dictated that I dress nicely and modestly to attend. I would’ve much preferred shorts and a T-shirt.
I glanced at my watch. They should have started already, I thought to myself impatiently. Then I noticed the pastor get up and make his way to the pulpit. Excitement spread a smile across my face as the buzzing congregation went silent.
After a quiet prayer that I barely listened to, the first of the evening’s speakers was introduced, and I sat up taller in my seat, shifting to see around the woman in a gray dress seated in front of me. Her blown-out hair sat high on her head, covered obediently with a doily to reflect her commitment to her faith.
At the pulpit, a handsome man with a friendly smile began to introduce his blonde wife, who was also in a fine dress and head covering. Beside them stood four children, lined up in steps, all with white-blonde hair, ranging in age from 16 to 2. The youngest, a boy, twirled around in front of the others, unable to keep still.
