I was not the ideal Sunday School class attendee as a child. Or as a teenager. It wasn't rebelliousness so much as chattiness. I was A Talker.
Shocking, but true.
One year around Christmastime, when I was probably in 5th or 6th grade, I was sitting in church next to my older sister Jill. As a bit of background, Jill always peeked and knew what we all were getting for Christmas. I'm pretty darn sure she still peeks. (Hope you hide things well, Doug!) After one year of her showing me everything I was getting for Christmas before the big day, I realized I actually like the surprise and so resisted the urge to peek.
But as soon as Jill realized that I didn't actually want to know what Santa was bringing, the more intently she wanted to tell me. She would chase me around the house yelling out gifts while I ran away, hands over my ears, screaming at the top of my lungs, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! LALALALALALALA!"
It became a thing.
What does this have to do with church? Well, Jill decided sacrament meeting was the perfect time to pounce. I'm sure she planned this. So in the middle of the meeting, she leaned over, and told me, "I am giving you a gold stretchy belt for Christmas." My reaction was immediate. "NOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. Loudly.
Oops.
It wasn't that I was unhappy with the present. I was unhappy that the surprise had been spoiled.
My Dad, who was sitting up on the stand, glared at us. My Mom, who was sitting a few kids away from us, glared. The rest of the congregation stared with curiosity, wondering what I so vehemently disagreed with in the meeting. And Jill laughed and laughed.
Almost as hard as she laughed the time I fell down, sprawled flat, in the middle of the busy church foyer, as a teenager. Whenever we bring that particular incident up, Jill is quick to add that she got in trouble for laughing at me and it wasn't fair because after all who wouldn't laugh at a person (in a dress I might add) falling flat in the middle of a crowd.
So Personal Memo to Jill: I forgive you for laughing -- I likely would have too, had I not been the one flopped awkwardly across the burnt orange foyer carpet -- and I'm sorry you got in trouble. But I still don't want to know what you are giving me for Christmas this year.
In addition to causing occasional distractions through the years, I also was a very giggly kid. Up through high school, I was always nervous to pray publicly, because often I would erupt in giggles. Nerves? Silliness? Immaturity? Doomed to be a Heathen? I'm not sure. But it has unfortunately continued, decades after adolescence.
There was the time, not too long ago, when I, along with the other members of our Stake Relief Society presidency, were meeting with our Stake President and one of the high councilors.
Our RS presidency had actually met earlier that night, and there had been a lot of laughter. I had shared how I wore two different shoes that day and didn't notice it until around 3 pm. (Not that unusual of a wardrobe malfunction, actually rather ho-hum, which you already know if you've read my past blog posts. But it did take an extraordinarily long time for me to figure it out.) It is at that point in my conversation with Susan, Tracy, and Regina that an infamous exchange happened.
I said, "I really need a wardrobe consultant. Or a professional dresser. Or even just someone to stand sentry and tell me when my clothes are on inside out or my shoes don't match."
My sassy pal Susan said, "Christy! You have one! It's called a mirror... USE IT!"
That set us off and we laughed until we cried. At the end of the meeting, Susan made the mistake to ask me to pray. It did not go well. I burst into laughter halfway in and couldn't finish.
I've gotta believe that God just sort of rolls his eyes and goes with it. He knows me too well to be shocked by my occasional lack of piety. But I do feel a little bad about it. I mean, I'm attempting to talk with God, my Heavenly Father, and that should, in theory, generate respect, reverence, awe and gratitude.
So my laughing attack was a Prayer Fail. But we moved on to the next meeting with the Stake President. And then my heart sank when he asked me to pray, "to start off our meeting with the right spirit." I was pretty sure I couldn't contribute to that goal. I still had spillover giggles. I knew I would break. And I wasn't sure how God would feel about two botched prayers.
My stake president was and is such a wonderful man. I enjoyed a very warm relationship with him. But by nature he skews pretty solemn; pretty serious. I knew he wouldn't appreciate a prayer meltdown.
So I said to him, "I'm sorry President, but apparently, tonight I reverted back to junior high school, and I had a complete giggle attack during the last prayer I attempted. You might want to ask someone else."
He looked at me and flatly said, "Well, here's your chance to redeem yourself."
Alrightythen.
So I started. And within about 3 or 4 words I snort-giggled and just sat there, silently and inanely laughing, tears streaming down my face. I didn't want to laugh, but I couldn't help it. I was loopy.
So I opened my eyes to just Call It, throw in the prayer towel, and tell him to ask someone more mature to "start us off in the right Spirit." But as I cracked my eyes open, I saw that he was Not Amused. He sat there with his eyes closed and his arms folded and an expression hinting that a Time Out was not out of the question. It immediately generated the desired Scared Straight reaction in me, and terrified, I was able to quickly sober up and finish the prayer. Probably not one of my best or most heartfelt, but I got through the rest of the prayer without losing it.
I wondered if we'd all have a little chuckle about it afterwards. But I was wrong. "Okay, let's begin. What's first on your agenda," he said, all business.
I was quite reverent for the rest of that meeting.
A few months later, Chad was in a meeting with the same Stake President. It was a meeting with all of the women and men leaders in the stake, to be exact.
Quick background here, to set the stage. Chad likes to go to sleep watching TV. Conversely, I can't sleep if there is a show on, even if I have absolutely zero interest in it. Eyes closed, I will still follow the plot and the dialogue and stay awake doing so, whether I want to or not. So we never have a television in our bedroom. As a result, Chad watches shows on his phone as he goes to sleep. You'd think his choice might be something relatively calming, like sportscaster voiceovers of a golf game. But no, he tends to watch shows like NCIS. Nothing like a little serial killer intrigue to send you off to sweet dreams.
He'd fallen asleep watching NCIS the night before, and I guess the show was just "sleeping" on his phone. Because as the meeting started, he signed into his phone in order to put it on silent, but it instantly went to the show. And it just so happened that the part of the show it went to involved one of the characters calling out, "IT'S THE WHOLE DAMN LIST!"
So that rang out loud and clear. Then, as Chad tried to mute and dismiss the show, it got stuck there, due to spotty internet. So it just kept repeating, "IT'S THE WHOLE DAMN LIST!" over and over as he mumbled and fumbled.
He glanced at the Stake President, who was once again Not Amused. In fact, no one in the room cracked a joke or a smile, although Chad says there appeared to be a few quiet snickers disguised as coughs.
"Can't....... Get......... Phone.......To........Turn..........Off," Chad sheepishly said as his phone continued to throw out the swears.
"Let's begin our meeting." was the response. Apparently our stake president was a fan of "Don't Reward Bad Behavior By Acknowledging It."
Coincidentally? Or not? Chad was released from his stake young men's calling the next month. I stayed in for a bit longer, but it was definitely not because I positively contributed to "starting the meeting off in the right spirit".
So there was time for more prayer mishaps.
One time my RS presidency members and I were having a training meeting with one of the wards in our stake. The training was in the evening, and it was always a challenge to get home from work, get changed, and make it on time. So I rushed into the meeting, a bit flustered, late as usual. It had been A Day. They'd waited for me. So we began the meeting and were chatting a bit, getting to know the other ladies. Then Susan asked, "Okay, Tracy, why don't you give us the spiritual thought for tonight."
I interrupted, "Shouldn't we pray first?"
"What?" Susan asked with confusion.
"Shouldn't we say the opening prayer before Tracy's spiritual thought?"
It got quiet.
"Christy... we just said the prayer 2 minutes ago. And in fact, you chimed in with "Amen".
Oops. Obviously I had not been very focused during the prayer.
Tracy's spiritual thought for the night was on Reverence, and The Importance of Listening to Prayers. And Not Giggling During Them. And Not Screaming NOOOOOO During Church, or Broadcasting Cuss Words In Stake Executive Planning Meetings. And Not Falling Flat in the Foyer.
Actually, it wasn't. But it should have been. Because she then would have covered the Whole Damn List.
