When the Church Basement Got Ransacked and Only the Potluck Survived
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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🎤 Audio Overview
Possum on The Prayer List – Church Basement Ransacked, Potluck Somehow Survives
The congregation of Sequatchie Crossing had just gotten through the last verse of “Onward Christian Tupperware” when Pastor Arnold Peeler paused mid-amen and leaned into the microphone.
“Folks,” he said with the solemnity of a late-night AM radio host, “we have a situation downstairs.”
Gasps spread through the sanctuary like rumors at a yard sale. Evelyn Grace Tipton, seated primly in her usual pew (third from the front, second cushion from the left), straightened her gloves. Mabel Dean Ashcroft gripped her clipboard like it was both a weapon and a prayer. Clovis Strickland took out his homemade bug sweeper.
The basement has been ransacked,” Pastor Peeler continued. “Someone—or something—broke in during choir practice and… upended the entire auxiliary supply closet.”
Was the potluck harmed?” Maggie Sue Dillard asked, standing from the pew like a mama bear with meatloaf.
“Mercifully, the casseroles are safe.”
There was an audible sigh of relief. Then came the murmurs. And then came the chaos.
Possum on The Prayer List – Church Basement Ransacked, Potluck Somehow Survives
Brett and Alyssa Crenshaw immediately began waving their chakra pendants, insisting the basement had suffered an “energetic misalignment.
“We sensed a shift in the vibrational plane last Thursday,” Alyssa murmured. We assumed it was the moon cycle, but now…
“This was sabotage,” Clovis declared. “I been sayin’ for years them ceiling tiles down there were hiding surveillance drones. This was a retrieval mission gone wrong.”
Boot Barnes, summoned from the vestibule where he’d been debating the historical sanctity of flannelgraph, took out his typewriter and began typing an emergency ordinance to restore the original linoleum from 1978.
“That floor held moral clarity,” he muttered. “Back when a casserole could sit for six hours and be stronger for it.”
Coach Freddie, who’d been asleep since the Doxology, awoke yelling “Zone defense!” and began directing search-and-rescue efforts with a whistle and clipboard he definitely brought from home.
Meanwhile, Evelyn Grace Tipton began drafting the revised prayer list on the back of an old funeral program. Item #37: “The Ransacked Church Closet.”
Item #38: “The possum.”
Officer Kenny Joe Teeter, freshly awake from a half-nap behind the choir robes, was summoned for an official investigation. It took him seven minutes to locate his flashlight and three more to remember how it worked. Eventually, he descended into the basement with Clovis, Mabel Dean, and Pastor Peeler.
They found the auxiliary supply closet in ruins: bulletin board borders shredded like cabbage, pipe cleaners twisted into modernist nightmares, and glitter scattered in a pattern that looked suspiciously intentional.
“Possum prints,” Kenny Joe said after squinting at the carnage. “Size 5. Probably angry. Maybe Pentecostal.”
Just then, a loud thump echoed from the pantry.
Out crawled the possum. Greasy. Determined. Covered in what appeared to be glitter glue and potato flakes.
“That ain’t a possum,” Clovis whispered. “That’s a message.”
Rather than panic, the congregation did what they always did: they formed a committee.
Boot Barnes motioned to form the “Historical Rodent Prevention and Archive Restoration Subcommittee.” Mabel Dean seconded, provided she controlled all color-coded storage bins.
Maggie Sue Dillard, unfazed, simply scooped the possum into a casserole dish, dubbed him “Revival,” and placed him outside with a plate of deviled eggs and a copy of Psalms.
Trixie Jo Bartlett suggested a full town proclamation honoring the possum’s bravery. Pastor Peeler countered with a sermon titled “Even the Least of These: A Marsupial Meditation.”
By Wednesday, the church had a new closet lock, a glitter containment policy, and a revised prayer list that read:
- Evelyn Tipton’s bursitis
- Coach Freddie’s whistle etiquette
- The entire concept of Moon Nectar Juice Cleanse
- And finally: Revival the Possum, listed under “Recovering Visitors”
Sometimes the Lord sends angels. Other times, it’s a possum with a spiritual appetite and poor spatial awareness.
Disclaimer: This story is completely made up, but if you feel a deep spiritual resonance with a glitter-covered possum, well… that’s between you and the Lord. This story is entirely fictional except for the parts that aren’t true. Any resemblance to real people, living or just stubborn, is purely accidental—but also maybe a little flattering. Sequatchie Crossing exists only in the minds of those brave enough to imagine a town where zoning laws, casseroles, and conspiracy cassettes collide in glorious disarray.
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates.
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