As I’ve mentioned before, I really do appreciate the ritual involved in going to mass. Even though it’s only 45 minutes or so, reciting the lines from the Book of Common Prayer and hitting the descant in a pretty hymn makes me feel that for a few minutes, I can do something correctly. This feeling is in direct contrast to every other moment of my life when I feel as emotionally sure-footed as a buttered up newborn giraffe trying to navigate its way across a freshly waxed ice skating rink.
But as much as I like the stillness that happens under some rocking gothic arches, I can’t shut off my daydreamy brain entirely. And sometimes, somewhere between the Nicene Creed and the exeunt, it wanders. Here are some of the wanderings it took today and what it forced me to think, very nearly aloud:
- Holy Sh*t there’s parking!!
- Ohmygoodness, these pews are so adorable! They only seat 3. It’s oddly romantic
- Oh yeah, I could totally get married in here.
- Yay! I’m not the only one who was late!
- Why the f*ck am I thinking about getting married?
- Is is bad that I thought “f*ck” during Eucharist? I put an asterisk in it.
- That woman totally just breathed on me.
- This man has the nicest hands in the world.
- Wait! Is that ANOTHER black person in here? Serves me right, I didn’t check the memo.
- Coffee. Please. Coffee.
- I would have made an awesome altar girl!
- You know, $1200 to rent a sloth for a day really isn’t that bad.
- Awww, I like having my face touched. Should I have not worn bangs today?
- Hmmm, wine at 8:45 a.m. is not so bad…
- Holy sh*t! I can still get to work before 9!!
Tucked in and among the manic-ness were all the reasons that I was in that adorable pew. I don’t pretend to have even one answer for anything of import. But I know that when I’m there, I feel like I’m a smidge, or in Ash Wednesday’s case, a smudge closer to maybe, maaaaybe figuring something out…even if that something is just how to get through an hour or two with a smattering of silly thoughts instead of a deluge.
It’s no surprise that an Oreo finds herself in an Anglican congregation. So click here for the rest of that story.
In the event that anyone I go out with in the next 40 days reads this, I’ll refrain from describing my Lenten discipline this year. But click here for some other Oreo-tastic options!
What are you giving up (or not) this year? Let us know in the comments!