I married a Catholic. We are not Catholic anymore but that is another story for another day. In the early years of marriage, when our kids were quite young, we attended the Catholic church every Sunday. That was before the "baby rooms" or "kids rooms" were part of the church. That was the days when you sat with your kids packed between you like sardines in a row and prayed that they would not misbehave too much during the service. Sometimes God does NOT answer prayers.
Communion time seemed to provide the best opportunity for acting up. You had an audience that could watch the whole story of your family life unfold. We usually lined the kids up single file and sandwiched them between us when we went forward to receive Communion. One bright Sunday morning as MyHero stepped forward to take communion Tpot peeked her head around him, leveled her gaze at the priest and asked loud enough for anyone in the back row (& you know who you back-rowers are) to hear, "Is there any peanut butter up der in that JesusChrist breadbox?" Shocked silence descended on all those around us. Is it any suprise the priest didn’t answer? Is it any surprise that I let her live to be 5? MyHero, of course, never missed a beat. He blindly moved forward as though he had no idea who owned the question left hanging in the air leaving me to deal with the aftermath.
"Tpot, keep going"-I hissed between my teeth as she stood there still staring up at the priest. . You know, I think most everything is funny-except when it happens in church. Then I am convinced that the Devil is dogging my heels and warring with God who is trying to spare me and keep me from committing holy murder. I am also convinced that God has a great sense of humor.....read on......
The next Sunday we decided to go forward for Communion and leave the 4 kids sitting in the pew. The first mistake we made was leaving the oldest (age 10) in charge of 3 kids under 5! The 2nd mistake was leaving my purse tucked into the edge of the pew. After we recieved communion, and started back towards our seats, we heard a smattering of muffled laughter here and there. As most of you know, you walk to your seat with you hands clasped and your eyes downcast. I now realize that your hands are clasped so that you can’t beat your children in church. The full horror of what was happening did not dawn on me until I got to my pew.
The contents of my purse were spread out along the pew. Tpot had a tampon (in a tube-the only way you can purchase them) in her hand. It was nicely elevarted in the air for everyone to enjoy. She was pushing it up out of the tube and then pulling it back in-in & out-in & out. Not to be outdone, Mimi had a tube of lipstick and my compact out and the whole bottom of her face was covered with bright pink lipstick (yep-brights were popular that year). Topping the entertainment on tap was MamasBoy., He had a partial plate containing one front tooth(don’t even ask why that was in my purse because you wouldn’t believe it anyway) held in his sweaty little hand and was making biting motions (accompanied by a hiss) at the people in the pews behind him. At that moment I started praying that the aisle would open up and allow me to drop to my death. By now you are asking- Where is the "watchdog" that we left in charge? Well, he is picking his nose and staring up at the ceiling. Of course he is!
We didn’t worry too much about being embarrassed in that church in future weeks. The next week MyHero took a job in Florida. We moved & found a church where no one recognized us. See, God is good! Now, if YOU are very good, and promise not to swear in church, one day very soon I will tell you our Florida church story. It is even better than this one~