Sometimes I’m convinced I must be the most thoughtless person around. I know that I’m selfish, but then occasionally something happens and I see that I’m even less tuned in to other people’s needs than I realized.
We were in church recently, and the pastor was making an excellent point about God’s presence being refreshing. I was completely focused and appreciating his sermon until he used this illustration: “It’s like when I’m out working in the yard, and I’ve been sweating in the heat, and then my wife comes out with a cool glass of water . . .”
“Uh oh,” I thought. “I’m in trouble. I hope George wasn’t listening . . .”
He was listening. He leaned forward and looked at me with an expression that said more than a multitude of words. It was about 99% accusation and 1% amusement with a touch of resignation thrown in. We both knew that, if I hadn’t thought of bringing him water over the 24 years we’d been married, it wasn’t likely to happen now. That expression had an immediate effect on me. I laughed. I didn’t mean to. And it wasn’t loud. Not very loud, anyway. George’s head snapped back, and he fixed his gaze on the preacher.
Luke, who was sitting between us and had observed our exchange, leaned over and whispered, “You really should take him water when he’s working outside.”
I whispered back, “We have a hose!”
Now we were both laughing, and the look we got from George had lost the 1% amusement factor.
I admit it. I’m a bad person. But I do want to be better, to be sensitive, to meet the needs of others.
(Do they make cooling devices for garden hoses? Just curious.)
A man can’t find the hose for himself, then he ort not to count on anyone else to do it for him!
Once I got my Mom cracked up in church. I was sitting next to her, and she asked me if my Dad was coming down the aisle. I said no, then looked over my shoulder and saw him, at which point I said “Yes he is!” and apparently, practically jumped into her lap. This she found uproariously funny. She was trying to maintain what was left of her composure, shaking quietly there on the pew. Of course, I kept elbowing her in the ribs to try to get her to stop … needless to say it didn’t work. She just laughed harder.
Hope your incident turned out better!
Well, I am a big one for bringing the cool drinks…but I was just raised that way…and now, honestly, I resent it from time to time.
On another note…I love making people laugh in church. I don’t think this is one of my best qualities.
And last but not least, I have been working on my new home this weekend where to my surprise my husband installed my 4 water spigots outside. Aren’t I the lucky one? Eh, not really. One is right on my front porch, right by the front door. It is ghastly. And the second horrid thing with them, out the back door, he accidentally hooked this one to the hot water line. Ugh. Men!
Oh good! I can blame my thoughtlessness on my upbringing. I hadn’t thought of that! It’s funny, but as kids we always did drink out of the hose. The only time I ever went out to assist someone in the yard was when my brother was mowing on the riding mower and decided (for his own amusement) to pretend he was dead. So he sprawled across the seat and let the mower continue in its path. I glanced out the window, saw him, thought he really WAS dead, and ran out to assist. (Couldn’t let the mower run into the fence, you know!) When I got close he heard me yelling and sat up. I wanted to strangle him! He had really scared me.
I have several great “laughing in church” stories. It’s so hard to stop once you get started. And I hate it, b/c I don’t want to be rude.
Sorry about the spigot situation! Maybe you could plant something to hide it . . . or if it’s over the porch, put a potted plant there??? You’d have a convenient source for watering. :o)
Luke and I drove through Henderson today on our way home from Nacogdoches. We had just turned onto 43 toward Tatum, and he said, “Ragamuffen lives around here somewhere.”
“Around here?” I asked pointing to the houses we were passing.
“No, just around Henderson somewhere.”
So, we couldn’t stop by, but know that you were thought of! :o)
At least your mom managed to shake quietly. My attempts at suppressing laughter are more like this: the initial, unexpected eruption is sort of a “Pffssst” sound, followed by strained high squeeky noises. Combined with the inevitable shaking, I’m surprised the medical types in the crowd haven’t mistaken it for a seizure of some sort and come to my rescue.
Laughter is as irrepressible as a two-year-old. The more you try to tame it, the more obstinate it becomes. Which reminds me of the time I took my two-year-old daughter to a wedding. She made an interesting (very loud) comment right in the middle of a prayer. I’ll have to tell that story later.