For some welcome change around here, I actually have a little funny story for today’s Pointless Story Hour. In case you’ve forgotten that these are pointless stories, this entry will remind you because we have a long way to go to the little, funny part. You know you love it.
It all started in high school . . . (insert flashback harp strings sequence here)
When I was a shy high school student, I learned that my greatest fear was not, as I had previously imagined, death by fire. Nor drowning, nor large spiders. My greatest fear was realized in the term of English classes designated Speech Class. I was terribly afraid of having to stand up and talk in front of a whole class, and quickly sought to identify classmates who were worse at public speaking than I was. It’s not that I was unfriendly or antisocial. It’s that I was mortified of being The Worst Public Speaker. I was the girl whose yearbook inscriptions historically contained gems like:
“Wendy: You’re so sweet and quiet.”
“Wendy: Wow, Latin was hard this year. Have a great summer.”
“Wendy: You are so quiet. You should talk more.”
So I struggled through the class, and got a little better each time I had to deliver a speech or a monologue. But I came to realize that my fear of public speaking…well, it sucked. I didn’t like being afraid of this. I felt like it was something that would dog me my whole adulthood if I didn’t do something about it.
At the end of my sophomore year of high school, I got involved with my church’s youth group. This only happened because my mom forced me to go on a retreat with them. Being shy, I fought her about going because I didn’t know any of the kids. On the retreat, I made great friends, some of which I’m still in touch with today. I had my first kiss thanks to my first game of Truth or Dare, and met the guy that became my first boyfriend. We ended up dating for 3+ years. But I digress.
As I got more involved at church, I decided I wanted to train to become a lector. What could better cure me of my fear of public speaking? Not only is it a huge audience – a whole church full of people – it’s also specific words I had to deliver. On one hand, this was good, because I didn’t have to write it myself, and I had a guide to teach me where to pause and what words to emphasize. On the other hand, it could be bad because if I screwed up, I’d be screwing up Liturgy in front of the priest and a whole church full of people who were depending on me to deliver a reading from the Bible. But there was something about this challenge that made me excited to tackle it. So I did. I was a lector in high school. I don’t think I did it more than a handful of times, but it did wonders for me. When I went to college, I decided to minor in Speech Communication.
As an adult, I enjoy public speaking. I crave opportunities for it because I know I always have room for improvement, and practice is the only way to improve. I must be in the minority though, especially in my family. I have three sisters, and I was maid of honor for one of them. The other two, who chose each other as their maid of honor, both allowed me to make toasts for them at the wedding reception where they were the maid of honor. I wasn’t fantastic, but I also wasn’t afraid to stand up and take the microphone. It’s not that I don’t get nervous, because I still do. But I think a little nervousness keeps me on my toes, so I don’t get complacent or overconfident.
Last summer, we joined a new church. We were putting Katy Rose into preschool, and the school happened to be at this church. We didn’t feel a strong connection to the church where we had been registered, so it wasn’t a very difficult decision to change parishes.
In addition to volunteering with the preschool, I decided now was the time to get involved again as a lector. I had wanted to lector for many years, but never made it a priority. So I got in touch with the person that is in charge of the ministry. Almost two weeks ago, I went to a training session with him and one other new lector. He showed us the ropes and we did a trial run with a reading to the empty church. Last week he emailed all the lectors and asked for our availability for the different weekend mass times in February and March, and I specified that I was available at 11am and 5pm masses on Sundays.
Last Friday morning, he emailed me to see if I could sub for the first reading at 5pm on Sunday, 1/29. I accepted the assignment, and went into “cram” mode to prepare. I figured it was better to just get on the first horse, so to speak.
The procedure at our church is for the lectors to come in with the procession and leave with the recession. Our church is set up like a semicircle. I had chosen our seats in the second pew, all the way to the left next to the musicians, so I would be as close as possible to the ambo when it was time for my reading. The only bad thing about it was that we were visible to probably half of the church, and especially the priest and deacon.
I processed in, delivered my reading, and was okay with it. Mike thought I might have been a little too slow or had paused too much, so I will work with that in mind when I prepare for the next time. We were almost to the end of the mass when Katy Rose received a nature call. Knowing there was a small bathroom just behind the front area with the altar, I asked Mike to take her there. I was afraid I would miss the recessional.
They went off to the potty, and thank God the choir was making music. After a moment, through the music I could hear what I knew was the voice of my child crying very loudly. Terror struck me… what on earth is going on back there??
Mike appeared next to the hallway with a serious face, beckoning me toward him. Terror quickly turned to dread. I’m betting she had an accident and is covered in pee.
I quickly walked over, painfully aware that pretty much everyone in the church can see the three of us as we skipped over there directly from the second pew. Yes, Katy Rose is, in fact, crying very loudly, just steps from the rest of the congregation.
“What is going on??” I asked, seeing that she was not (hooray!) covered in pee.
Mike looked at me with a guilty and sympathetic face and explained that while he was trying to get her situated, something happened.
“I accidentally hit her in the face.”
Simultaneously, several emotions registered inside me. Horror that my child took some kind of hit to the face. Sorrow that she was upset. Embarrassment that we are all here with this loud situation. Sympathy for my husband and what was clearly an accident. And somewhere in there, I was laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Sometime (probably soon), I was going to tell this story of how I almost screwed up my first time as a lector because my husband accidentally hit our kid in the face during a potty break. It’s the kind of thing you can’t make up.
She wasn’t obviously hurt, so I figured the majority of the issue was hurt feelings as opposed to actual pain. Once I calmed her down, she took her sweet time and wouldn’t let me leave her in Daddy’s care to wash her hands. I was starting to freak out a little bit about making it back to our seats before the end of the mass. Thankfully, there were some long announcements and I didn’t miss the recessional. Phew!
Next time, I think I’ll insist she goes to the bathroom before mass starts. No more sucker punches during church.
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