*A warning to the boys:  You may or may not want to read this.  You may learn more than you want to know.  Consider yourself warned.

It’s a good thing I’m not still in school.  I would be labeled as ADHD, because I am highly distractible.  I’m not hyper, though, so I could drop the H and just be ADD.  Actually, I think my initials would be LIADD for Life Induced Attention Deficit Disorder.  I wasn’t always like this.  I used to be able to finish a full TV program without doing something else.  I could sit through church.  I could even sit through a movie without falling asleep.  I’m pretty sure that constantly working for the last umpteen years has trained me to be this way.

I try, I really do, to concentrate.  Especially in church and Bible class, I really want to be able to listen.  However, it’s not always easy.  Luckily, our preacher breaks lessons into smaller points, so if I don’t get the whole lesson, at least I get part of it. 

Part of the reason I can’t concentrate for a full sermon is because I always have to go to the bathroom.  I’m not just looking for excuses to get up and leave, honestly, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.  When I am sitting, I’m fidgety.  Maybe it’s from all those years of doing church aerobics while wrestling my kids to keep them on the pew.  Maybe it’s from lack of sleep.  Maybe I need vitamins.   I don’t know what it is, but it seems like the harder I try, the less I can focus.

Something I learned this morning is that it is hard to concentrate in church when you have bread in your bra.  I was sitting there, innocently trying to pay attention in church.  I was doing so well with focusing.  My goal is always to actually make it through church without letting my mind wander too many times.  I was doing so well, and then it happened.  It was time for the Lord’s Supper.  I made it through the prayer for the bread and even heard the prayer.  The trays were being passed.  It was my turn to take the bread.  I reached in and took it.  As I tried to put the tiny square in my mouth, it slipped out of my fingers and went right down into my shirt.  (Insert your own joke here about my big mouth.  My choice: “It’s hard to miss the Grand Canyon with a rock.”)

Mr. E and the Goose happened to be looking at me right when this happened.  The Goose just looked at me, unsure of what she had just seen.  Mr. E knew what had happened and immediately offered to get it out for me.  While that was an ever-so-generous offer, I declined.  The Mr. and I were fighting off laughter and the Goose asked, “What?  What happened?”  I couldn’t lean over to tell her, because I was afraid my bread would be lost forever.  Luckily, my bra was too tight, so it did not slip on through.  If I had leaned too far, though, all bets were off.

So, there I sat with bread in my bra.  My husband kept looking at my shirt.  I’m sure people wondered why he was staring at my chest.  The Goose was saying, “What?  What?”  That did not help my laughter.  The Beetle and his pseudo-cousin, Dillon, were totally oblivious to the whole thing.  (Thank goodness.  I’m pretty sure two teen boys would have been horrified to know that I was sitting there with bread in my bra.)

The bread part of the Lord’s Supper seemed to take an unusually long time while I was sitting there waiting.  Finally, it was time for the juice.  When the prayer started, I began to pray with them.  Then, I remembered that I was still sitting with bread in my shirt.  I quickly reached in, grabbed it and stuck it in my mouth right as the speaker said, “In Jesus’ name.  Amen.”  I really hoped that everyone around me had closed their eyes for the prayer.  If not, they got a show.

As I chewed the bread, the Goose looked and whispered, “What are you eating?”  By this point, she had figured out that I had dropped the bread in my shirt.  I said it was my bread, and she said, “Ew!  Gross!”  Apparently, my chest is a dirty, vile place, and I should have thrown the bread away.  Who knew? 

We got through the rest of the Lord’s Supper without further incident.  Luckily, I managed to drink the juice without dropping the little cup down my shirt.  That would have been a little harder to cover up.

Maybe next week, I should make a conscious effort not to pay attention, because it seems like every time I try to focus, something happens.  Maybe the opposite would be true.  It’s worth a try!  -Al 



Terri T.
03/15/2013 8:33am

Oh my, that is just hysterical - and I would NOT have been any help to you, in attempting to stay composed!

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