Lost in church
Well, we have Model Man's sister H all married off. Lovely couple, fun wedding. I was amused that after announcing that the happy couple would be married, "In the name of Jesus Christ," the officiant then referred exclusively to the "Great Spirit" in the rest of the ceremony. I guess I don't think of the same thing when I think of the word "ecumenical." I also wished she'd picked some other name besides "Great Spirit." I'm sure she'd be disappointed to hear it, but that one's already taken by another religion, and I don't remember seeing news of a merger.

The evening was dimmed by the rather shattering news that the bride's mother is severely ill with lung cancer. Model Man didn't tell us, because he doesn't handle strong emotion well, but a month ago they were all gathered around her hospital bed hoping that they would be celebrating a wedding and not a funeral. She looked wonderful at the wedding, and had spent the whole five days they'd been in Philadelphia without needing her oxygen once, so we're hopeful. But her husband certainly has a haunted look.

This morning, smplmn went out to spend time with his parents and eventually bring them to my parents' house, while I packed up the bandar log and went to church with my mother.

In case you're wondering, it wasn't my idea. Mostly I went because I knew it was the best way for the kids to see Penguin's mother and sister, their Grandma B and Aunt Crackalyn-Pop, not to mention Crackalyn-Pop's baby girl, Nai-Nai. And I didn't want to stick my mother with the job; she sings in the choir and can't take responsibility for the kids during church.

I took Middlest and Littlest out to children's church in the service. Then I held my breath, ran for the door, sat down on the bench outside, and cried my eyes out, I was so angry. I'd attended Sunday School with Mom, and I like her teacher, but ... The texts he picked were like rubbing salt in wounds. I caught Mom muttering disapprovingly, "prosperity gospel," which made me feel better, but if he'd deliberately picked them to hurt, he couldn't have hit the doel any closer. Then it turned out to be World Communion Sunday, which was no joy. In a mixed community, that church is so damned white ... Then the texts for church. I was sitting outside the church trying not to yell out loud. "I hate the church, I hate the church, I hate the church!"

I pulled it together and went back in, catching the rest of the sermon. Usually, when I get stuck in church I listen politely to the sermon and don't worry too much about anything except counting the minutes until I can leave and stop being bored. Today the minister was preaching about prayer, which meant I sat there thinking, "Until you have a walk that matches the talk, this is bullshit," and glaring at her. I doubt she noticed; we seldom notice other people beaming hatred at us, no matter what it feels like to the person doing the glaring.

I packed it up again during communion. I'm baptized, but I certainly don't believe what the Methodist Church prefers people to believe if they're going to take communion. I don't believe in the symbolism. I'm not, as the Episcopal Church requests, "in love and charity with your neighbors." It would be totally inappropriate for me to take communion. I didn't ask Christ to die on the cross for me, and I'm not in the mood to memorialize it. And it was irritating me, so I left. This time I went into the chapel and cried. Big mistake; I should have gone and cried in the bathroom where there were towels to wipe my face. When I finally pulled it together, I thought I would just go quietly from the chapel to the bathroom to wipe off the tears, but there were people sitting out in the Narthex. What do you do when someone walks past you in the church, obviously crying or just having finished crying? I don't know -- I'm certainly clueless enough -- but ignoring it is a popular option.

I met Crackalyn-Pop in the corridor with Bigglest and Nai-Nai, heading in to communion. I took Nai-Nai, but she had hardly calmed down in my arms before Crackalyn-Pop was back, trailing Bigglest and obviously upset. Equally obviously she hadn't taken communion -- not unless they were throwing the bread and wine to the back of the church and she'd caught it on the run like a seal with a fish.

Turns out she'd headed down the aisle to join her mother, only to have one of the ushers, who apparently didn't realize she'd come from the nursery for the express purpose of taking communion, turn around and tell her very loudly that there were no spaces at the rail, he'd counted very carefully and would she please sit back down.

*sigh* The man probably doesn't know it, but mistakes like that, even though they're born from innocent misunderstanding, are the kind of thing that can lead to people leaving the church. Let her go up to the rail and squeeze in. I'm sure Christ isn't counting the place settings. Crackalyn-Pop felt as though she'd been scolded for attempting to eat at her Lord's table. She stalked into the nursery, took Nai-Nai, sat down in a chair, and cried. She was born into this church and has attended it all her life; as far as she is concerned, she was just scolded publicly in front of her family.

I should add that there is no arrangement to bring communion to either the nursery workers or the teachers of the children's church; if communion falls on your Sunday, you're just out of luck. Poor planning. If someone had brought communion to the nursery, Crackalyn-Pop could have taken it, too, and there would have been no problem.

Then my father showed up at the door, beckoned me out into the hall, explained what had happened ... and tried to make it seem as though it was all Crackalyn-Pop's fault. Excuse me for falling back on an old habit which is no longer spiritually appropriate for me, but Jesus Christ! The woman was trying to take some Bejesused communion.

There were too many people crying at church this morning, and it probably wasn't anywhere close to the number of people who would have been crying if we were all a little less embarrassed about showing with the salt-water.

When we came home, I took Bigglest out for coffee. He's been taking on a lot of responsibility with smplmn on the road, and it was time he had some I'm-a-kid-and-you're-the-parent time. Plus I needed to go somewhere that wouldn't remind me of how furious I was, at least until I calmed down enough to keep a grip on things.

I'm calm now, but mercy, I'm exhausted.

You know, I really do prefer a universe where sometimes shitty things just randomly happen and sometimes people are just evil to a world where I have to wrestle with the complications of a divine consciousness that lets shit happen.