I had a little story from Mass today that I was going to expertly weave into a life lesson and insert with care into my previous blog post. Yea, that didn't happen.
Deacon Dennis (or Fr. Jim, depending) always ask an opening questions/give a little get to know you topic for everyone to discuss with their neighbor. Today, to fit right along with the reading, Deacon Dennis asked us to talk to the people next to us about whether or not we thought "God has been kind to us."
Conversation rumbled throughout the church, slowing dying off as people settled in and their small talk dried up. The couple that always sit next to us as church (yea, we are one of those families) is incredibly ancient, hard of hearing, and probably on the verge of insanity. They aren't married, but they come to church together most Sunday's. They bicker back and forth constantly because Fred can never hear whats going on and she gets embarrassed when he spouts expressions of confusion and frustration. Today, Fred was right on schedule for another raunchy comment. Most of the church had fallen silent, but Fred still had more to say on the matter of God's will concerning his life.
"Considering how bad I am, I think he's been pretty damn generous."
I literally almost fell off the seat of the pew/peed my pants/snorted with laughter. This, of course, bestowed me with a look of utter disgust from the little old ladies.
After regaining composure, I stood up for the opening song for Mass. Shortly after the service had begun, I was nearly knocked out of my seat AGAIN. This time, it wasn't Fred's lack of a filter. No, this time it was a high pitched squealing in a range only dogs should be able to hear. It sawed at my bones and made me cringe. I tried my best not to squirm, but this is seriously the most annoying noise in the entire world. (Except maybe for...nope, can't think of anything.)
I look over, and there is Fred, playing with his hearing aid.
Figures.
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