… Week before last I went to mass in Knoxville. While there a mother of two let her three year old fuss and whine all through the mass. Like the entire mass. Each excruciating minute was punctuated by a moan and kick to the back of my seat. Then last week, at my own parish, a child screamed through the entire mass. Seriously. Screamed. I had never experienced anything like this; a parent so clueless. It was so distracting that even the altar boys, highly trained to keep their eyes on the mass and not the congregation, all twisted and turned to see what the commotion was about.
I thought that was what ushers were for.
Ugh. How dare these nasty little creatures interrupt my piety with their noisy squawking and screeching. My mass. All mine. Hiss. Spit. Growl. and all that jazz.
As I sat there praying, grinding my teeth through all the uproar, I quietly thanked the Lord for the Holy Mass. I asked Him for patience because that is what good, holy Catholics do. And then I thanked Him for dying on the cross for all those ungrateful, noisy children and their inconsiderate parents.
And because I was feeling extra holy I added to my prayers those annoying chatty old ladies who use mass as a social hall to talk about their bad hips and precocious grandchildren. Oh, and also for slovenly dressed teenagers and their lazy-no-good parents who should know better. Buy your kids some proper church clothes and demand they wear them. Jesus hear my prayer.
Wait. I feel like I am forgetting someone. Oooooo. Right.
And most especially, Dear Lord, pray for those insufferable judgmental snobs who spend the entire hour focused on what everyone else is doing and wearing. Those people are the worst, Lord.
Yay! I suck! Amen.