Two (or three) posts and a confession

4 02 2011

Post One: If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been the past few days, this post on The Master’s Artist will explain. Thankfully, I did reconnect with my luggage late Wednesday night and made it back home Thursday before the snow storm hit East Texas.

Post Two (and Three): I also wanted to make sure you’re aware of a new blog called All the Church Ladies that was started by Karen Spears Zacharias. Karen has assembled a diverse group of writers to share stories about women of faith, and I’m at bat on Fridays. Today I posted my second story. You can read my first one here, if you’re interested. I hope you’ll check out some of the other posts, too. You may laugh, you may cry, but one thing’s for sure. You’ll find as much variety as you would at a pot luck supper.

And now for The Confession. I know I’ve admitted this before, but today it happened again. Perhaps you have the same problem. I attribute it to two things: a visual imagination and an addiction to laughter. Always on the hunt for a fix, my finely tuned hilarity radar often lands me on YouTube, where several of my subscriptions serve purely to satisfy this addiction. One of those is Wheezy Waiter. His videos are creative, original, and completely inane. I love them. (That’s not the confession, by the way. It’s back story. We’re getting there. Work with me, people.)

Unfortunately, my well-stocked mental inventory sometimes results in my laughing at inappropriate times. I’m in the middle of a serious situation, and my imagination conjures an image or memory that presses my giggle button. The more I try to suppress it, the more tickled I become, and when the laughter finally escapes, it is louder and more incongruous than it would have been had I let out the initial snicker and been done with it.

Which brings me to this morning. It’s a snow day around here, and that means Jacob is at home, and that means instead of reading the Bible in the privacy of my office, I read it aloud with him. As we worked our way through the verses George jotted on the card for today, we came to Matthew 12:22-30, the story of Jesus healing a blind and mute man and how the Pharisees accused Him of casting out demons by the power of Beelzebul. Jesus responds, “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand. And if Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then will his kingdom stand? And if I cast out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. Or how can someone enter a strong man’s house and plunder his goods, unless he first binds the strong man? Then indeed he may plunder his house. Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters. Therefore I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven people, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven . . . ”

That’s exactly how far I got before I busted out laughing. Why? Because as soon as I read the words “house divided against itself,” I heard Wheezy Waiter saying, “a house divided against itself is a duplex.” If I’d allowed myself even a quick grin at that point, I might have been okay, but I tried to ignore it and press on. I should know better. Instead, the pressure built until I couldn’t contain it, and poor Jacob looked at me in bewilderment as, by every indication, I guffawed over blasphemy against the Spirit not being forgiven.

I apologize for shattering your high opinion of me. (If you didn’t have a high opinion of me, let’s pretend you did.) For the record, I really do love that scripture passage, and I really don’t think blasphemy against the Spirit is a laughing matter. Of course, it’s probably best that you realize I’m not the perfect specimen of virtue you always assumed I was. (Again, let’s pretend.) I hope you’ll forgive me.  I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but I’m pretty sure it will.

Stay warm and safe this weekend, my friends. Live, love, and laugh (as appropriately as possible).



8 responses

4 02 2011

Oh, but laughter at inappropriate times is the best, isn’t it?

I was sitting in church with my husband and another couple that were good friends of ours when the wife’s baby beeper went off (they give those out in the nursery to notify moms if their baby needs them). Another couple, also good friends, were sitting in the row in front of us. As Dixie (the wife) tries to quietly and discreetly move out of the aisle so as not to disturb anyone, her loose knit sweater gets caught on Kara’s (the other friend in the row in front us) hair clip. And it’s not just stuck a little bit. IT IS STUCK A LOT. They’re both embarrassed and trying to get unstuck. So, do I get up and try to help them get themselves unstuck? NO! Because I’m giving myself a hernia trying to restrain my laughter while tears are streaming down my face. Dixie’s husband is sitting next to me (which is never a good idea on our best days, because he’s just like me) and he’s in the same sad state of affairs as I am. Dixie finally gets free and slinks away, mortified. I willed myself to stop laughing. That is, until Dixie returned from the nursery. The pastor made a b-line for us after the closing prayer inquiring what we found so amusing about his sermon.

4 02 2011

Ha! That’s awesome! Don’t even get me started on laughing inappropriately at church. I have way too many stories. I’m always afraid the speakers will see me and misunderstand, and often they do, but that just makes it worse.

You’re a kindred in just about every way. If we’re ever in church together, we better sit someone between us.

4 02 2011
Patricia (Pollywog Creek)

So many wonderful links to follow here, Jeanne. I’m definitely going to check out Wheezy Waiter. Oh….and I’ve got my own laughing in church stories. The worst was when my husband and Emily and I all starting laughing at a funeral – at the expense of the poor elderly lady sitting in front of us who had put her dress on inside out. Seriously. The saving grace was that we were sitting in the back row. It only got worse when Emily realized, quite suddenly, that she was standing in an ant bed at the graveside service, and we preceded to vigorously brush the ants off her legs while she not-very-quietly jumped up and down. We were out-of-towners, thank goodness.

Jubilee’s album arrived in the mail today. Unfortunately, it was a gift for one of my grands, which means I must part with it. I should have ordered two.

So happy you are safely home and re-united with your luggage.

4 02 2011

Oh my! A funeral no less. I would say that you are possibly an even less perfect specimen of virtue than I, except that I would have laughed at the inside-out dress and antsy dance, too. Why are we so bad?

You definitely need a Jubilee album of your own! Burn it to your computer before you pass it along. I would. (While we’re confessing . . .)

4 02 2011
deb@talk at the table


and thank you for the link to the blog.

4 02 2011

You’re welcome.

5 02 2011

Love HowtoLiz, which you turned me onto…will definitely check out Wheezy Waiter.

And I totally cracked up at thinking of you cracking yourself up. You’re a regular crack up, Jeanne Damoff. A regular crack up.

Marcus Goodyear turned me on to this one- I also enjoyed Nativity Idol. 🙂

5 02 2011

Ha! Nativity Idol! Laughed out loud. Wow. How fun would it be to do something like that? Very fun. That’s how. (Marge could have won.)

Your comments are a gift. Please know I read each one with gratitude.

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