At weekday masses I try to find some shady corner in which to park the corpse, because my histrionic vanity leads me to distract myself with wondering what others think of me as I pray! Ick!
I am so grateful that God spares me the thunder bolt, or the gaping open unzipped fly, or any of a host of embarrassments I so richly deserve.
Must....not....answer....!
God bless, FRiend, and thanks again for this great thread. It is more important than you know.
I sometimes remember to be grateful when the little boys act like monsters (dinosaurs ... specific dinosaurs with polysyllabic Greek names and precise periods of prominence about which we have to argue in piercing alien voices, with obstreperous gestures) .... where was I?
Oh, right, because if they didn't act up, the congregation might think we're really terrifically holy, and we might think so ourselves, instead of recognizing that we're all just helpless sinners in need of laughing at (and praying for) ourselves and each other.