It has been a very long time since I wrote an entry, and I have decided that tonight is the night.
Well, that sounded rather dramatic. I haven't got anything worth saying in the short attention span that applies to Facebook. I have a lot to discuss, and I am trying to limit my anger and sarcasm, which are both exploding off the charts. And I was awakened by coughing up bile, so I was out in the living room drinking tea anyway. And it is 2 in the morning. Why NOT write this all out? Seemed silly not to write. Writing is cathartic, so maybe it will help me work out the issue that is bothering me today.
Let me start with a question, and I really want you to think about it.
Do you fidget in church?
Do you fall asleep because the preaching is boring, or you haven't had a good night's sleep in a decade, or you were up all night helping your little one stay asleep?
I fidget. My hands must be doing something by rote, or my brain just can't handle the awake and adulting. Our congregation has one preacher that prints out a little outline with blanks to fill in. Keeps the adults listening for the answers. But he provides a cheat sheet at the bottom, upside down, just in case you missed it, or you are too impatient to wait for him to speak it. Many people doodle, answer deep questions from their children, read the whole Bible chapter we are in, do a different Bible study, write fiction, make notes to complain to someone who is unrelated to the actual problem they think they are having, let their kids scribble art on the back of the note page, or any number of other little ticks that keep their fingers or feet moving, which, in turn, engages the brain.
Apparently, my recent fidget has attracted the attention of a local elder's wife, who has now asked me twice to stop. I suppose I need to just change seats, so she can't watch me fidget. There is a congregation so much closer to my house.....
Last Sunday, I wore a white dress with flowers on it. The very same one that was what I wore for our new church directory pictures. It is a size 18, where a mere six years ago I was wearing a size 26 and should have been wearing a 28. It is the first of three dresses that I bought recently, because my body is becoming healthier on the inside and that is making the outside change dramatically. When I tried on the dresses, I had no idea what size I was, so I started with 22. I ended up buying three in an 18. They each fit on the first try, and I could breathe, they looked GREAT (oh, dear. I just shouted that in my head, in a Tony the Tiger voice. whew.), and I didn't have to do any short-girl modifications like hemming or raising the bustline by tightening the shoulders.
My recent (nervous tick?) fidget is to use my little nail clippers to trim my cuticles, and keep my nails looking nice. Pick here, clip there, file after.... but I refuse to make noise. If I hear my skin make the clippers actually CLIP in church, I put them down immediately. Nothing drives ME more nutty than clipping sounds. That sort of thing belongs over a trash can after a shower or doing dishes, so the nails are soft and pliable. Not at dinner, and not at church. One of the ladies catches at least of two of the grandsons, and actually clips their nails. No. Making noise in church is off my list. The last time this woman spoke to me, I asked Jeff if HE (sitting right next to me) could hear me making noise. He said no.
So on Wednesday, the friendly neighborhood elder's wife makes a running beeline to my car, like I am about to drive away with a baby carrier sitting on the roof. She starts by saying that the dress was pretty, and I am looking nice. (Thanks, at least you started with a positive, even if it sounded cheap and negative.) Then she says that I need to please stop with the messing of my nails. Well.... I know you have asked once before, and that pissed me off, because you gave me no reason at all then. This week's reason pissed me off more. And yes, I am saying PISSED, because I am angry like a cat hissing. Angry like a drunken Scot who has been told he is too loud, has a huge tab he cannot pay, and is no longer welcome in the pub.
"If someone was going forward to get baptized, and they saw THAT (referring to my fidget, regardless of what it is), they might say, 'Oh, well, I don't want to be a part of that.' You know? I have not seen that here, but I have seen it at other places. So if you could just, you know, please stop messing with your nails."
I just said, "Alright." She seemed like she had made her point and walked away. I drove away, feeling as if that firing squad had somehow missed. What lunacy is this?
So let me get this straight. I have to fidget to listen, but in doing something to stay awake at church, I have stumbled onto your pet peeve. Is this correct? And your pansy asinine excuse to get me to stop is that my actions might somehow be a stumbling block to a person choosing Christ?
I have yet to figure out how a person would let a fidget keep them from committing to Christ. Wouldn't that be the most shallow excuse out there? "I was about to go down and commit to this Savior who has already purchased me back from the eternal fires of HELL...... but then I saw this lady who was cleaning dirt out of her fingernails, and nodding at what the preacher said. NOPE! Can't stand that. Gonna go to hell, and blame her!"
Begin sarcastic questioning that will have a happy ending in a minute:
So what about the people who let their kids watch Big Hero 6 on their phone during the lesson? (I really have seen that!)
What about the people who are trying to contain their kids to three rows of running and acting up because they allow their child to fidget, because they know if they really made him/her sit down in the pew, there would be a Come-to-Jesus screaming demon attack and uprising? (Which certainly draws more glares from judgmental people who don't have children or any experience with special needs.)
What about the candy-wrapper-shuffling older couple next to this elder's wife, the man who can't stop saying AMEN to every second statement (a couple times really at the very worst wrong moment to amen to), and can't understand that the candy is in his mouth, and he should put the stupid paper down NOW?
What about the guy in the back with the oxygen tank that breathes to a slow, steady, marching sort of drum beat? We ARE an acappella church, can't have musical instruments here.
What about the babies that ping off each other across the auditorium, and distract everyone but the preacher, who can't hear them?
What about the people who are posting quotes from the preacher on Facebook? Live tweeting God's words can't be a good thing, can it??
We should be nipping this all in the bud right now!
End sarcastic questioning. Maybe I can start making sense. If you took any of that seriously, you can't read anymore of my blog. I am sarcastic in my inner depths. I can see how each of these would annoy someone, but they are all happening in our building every Sunday morning. There is nothing wrong with any of it.
Let me repeat, for emphasis: There is nothing wrong with any of it.
I got the opportunity to rant about this to a dear friend on FB chat. She is also a fidget, and also uses quiet nail clippers. She, her husband, and all of their three kids have to be moving or doing something. Fidgets unite! So I relayed the story, and got a few sarcastic answers back. I got a laugh out of it. I got peace. I am not the only one, and this woman's reasoning is flawed.
What if the person going forward saw elder's wife showing this snooty attitude over a small thing that has nothing to do with salvation? Would he/she really want to be a part of THAT??
Suddenly, this matter doesn't seem so deep.
I am highly tempted to take a huge box of crayons with me, the likes of which need a crane operator to lift, and has a sharpener in the back. I am certain I could find a huge coloring book. Leave the clippers at home, so I am not tempted to use them at all. The sarcastic in me wants to wear my usual jeans and a t-shirt, and sprawl out on the pew like a kid. Kick up my left foot, slap the pew with my right foot, peel the paper off the crayons in a noisy fashion, drum out "Amazing Grace" with the crayons on a hymnal under the coloring page. Right in front of her. Then I want to ask her if she would rather I use my extensive vocabulary skills and take the time in worship to write my Science Fiction novel. I won't be able to use it for NaNoWriMo this year, but I could seriously knock out a chapter every service. At three services a week, I could have a Robert Jordan sized book by the end of next year!
This whole thing just makes me wonder. What does this woman say to others? Is she this petty about other topics? Does she reserve this spite for just me? Her husband the elder is the one I have heard speak out against the practice of clapping when someone gets baptized. I am sorry, but the Bible says that there will be rejoicing in Heaven.... I am betting it is NOT quiet rounds of the angels sitting in pews, nonchalantly muttering "amen" and picking up a hymnal to follow the singing. I am guessing there should be whooping and whistling and cheering, with clapping and shouts of "AMEN!" and clapping and dancing. Baptism should be a party, not a wake. Worship should be reverent, certainly, but that doesn't mean it must be somber to the point of slumber all the time.
This worship style disagreement also has NOT ONE THING to do with salvation.
I understand the point she tries to make. Really, I do. She reasons that I am not paying attention because I am looking at something else. She thinks that my fidget is a purposeful distraction, that I am TRYING to make other people watch me, and not listen. That I have ignored her before, so now it is a personal attack on her every time I look down at my pinkie. She thinks that I do not hear the lesson, because my focus of vision is so close to my nose. She must not be a fidget like me. She can't refute what she does not understand. She thinks that asking me to stop applying her pet peeve to my hands will solve the issue.
All this discussion has really done is stir up gossip, and spark the rebellious sarcastic angry child inside of me. If a person has decided to follow Jesus, I am pretty sure they are NOT focusing on me. If they are watching anyone else at that moment, then the stumbling block in them is looking for an excuse and an escape.
When people look for an excuse to feel hurt, they will always find it. I fear that this woman is looking for a scapegoat to blame. She wants to blame me for her focus wandering. If she were focused like she wishes me to be, she would never have noticed me.
I could bring my clumsy attempt at crochet.
I could write my own stories.
I could clap at a baptism (if we ever have another. by her logic, we may not.)
I could read any number of books on my iPad Kindle reader. I have several from a cousin, and so many classics I missed when I was in High School.
I could bring the nail polish and remover and make it an all-out manicure.
I could start cleaning up HER nails.
I could start raising my hands during prayer, quietly asking God to take away my dry skin, and make the fidgeting over them unnecessary.
The point for me is that I cannot stop the fidget. My hands must be occupied. Do I ignore her again? Do I swap fidgets to try to get something less obvious? Do I change seats? Do I change congregations?
How can I put away the sarcasm?
Today, I plan to try to sleep on it. I cannot be graceful in the face of criticism if I have not had good rest. I am praying right now that I only use God's words to respond. I can't go wrong with those!
