nailed by the cross..

When services ended this morning we stripped the series backdrop to prepare for the new one beginning next weekend. Already weary from a long weekend I began my mental vent over the mess in the green room that awaited me before I could leave. [My weekly ritual includes returning the  left over donuts to the coffee counter in the lobby; recycling the numerous charts and tech sheets left behind; cleaning the coffee machine; emptying everyone's coffee cups and picking up trash which multiplies supernaturally over the course of three services. I then have to grab my laptop, my charts, my in-ears, purse and you get the picture.] As I'm turning off all the lights and loading up my stuff, I remember one more thing I almost forgot to do and that's when He nailed me. My head was filled with all the makings of a pity party when I sat my stuff back down in order to pick up the tray and return it to the communion room. 

And then I remembered.

This is my body.

This is my blood.

Do this.

I immediately pictured Him in the green room of my heart thinking my most recent thoughts: "I just cleaned this up. Who does she think will pick up after her? Seriously, Loretta, is this necessary?"  I picked up my 'towel' and committed to do this, and everything else He calls me to do, in memory of Him...

'When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. ' -John 13:12-15

hold that post...

Before I hit post on my Facebook update moments ago I decided to double check the lyrics...thankful I did.  

The post:

"Loretta Nobis is watching the Pussycat Dolls on the Today Show and laughing at the boy tween singing along from the crowd to the following lyrics: "when I grow up I wanna have boobies."

Which, I might add, is worth the laugh. Also, worth the laugh is the look on my face when I discovered the lyrics were actually, "when I grow up I wanna have groupies..."

add-rite...

Had a hankering for Maid-Rite last night. Strip tenderloin, mustard, pickle, onion. Obeyed hankering (to go) and Kevin and I proceeded to the Vet's home so that Mylie could enjoy the animals. (shut. up.) Cruising around the deer/turkey/something mangy, Kevin picks up the brown paper bag traditionally used by Maid-Rite for carry-outs. He mentioned something in passing that they are still writing ticket orders on the bag and adding totals the old-fashioned way without the assistance of a calculator or register. I have never double checked a total. Ever. And me and local Maid-Rite go way back. So I couldn't believe it when I discovered they were a dollar off. That's two fifty-cent pieces in Maid-Rite change folks. Of course Kevin didn't believe me and he didn't want to make the short trip from the DQ (another hankering obliged) for me to remedy the oversight. I promised to be nice but a dollar's a dollar. Besides, any establishment that posts signs for keeping all four legs of your chair on the floor and manages their up and coming staff like boot camp rookies deserves to know the truth.

The owner/manager asked me if he could help me. I showed him the bag. He re-added. He said the total was correct. (I almost apologized and turned around even though I had checked and re-checked with calculator...I mean it's the Maid-Rite for goodness' sake...) But I stood firm and asked him about the post-tax total which is where the oversight occurred. He smiled. He reached under the counter and handed me a dollar bill with a quiet apology. As I walked away I heard him ask his wife..."Did you add this?"

Let's start by a simple admission of guilt. My aunt through marriage was seated next to us at a local restaurant last night. I was on a tight schedule so Kevin and I were grabbing a fast bite before I had to head back for rehearsal. I didn't want to get into a conversation. So I didn't. 

Moving on.

While we were eating, Kevin cupped his right hand over the side of his mouth,  pointed their direction with his left pointer finger and said:

"Don't say anything, but I think they are related to me."

I spit out my food, peed my pants and informed him at that point that they were MY relatives.

Ever have split-your-sides laughter quietly :) 

We giggled about that through the rest of our dinner (what a tool) and it spawned memories of HIS great-aunt who when he was single (and dating moi) entrusted to him a precious charcoal portrait of another relative, thinking Kevin would appreciate the artistic nature of the heirloom. He did. Which is why he is haunted to this day recalling the moment he tossed his shoe into his apartment closet. Right through that little heirloom. Oh, the years he spent dreading Christmas at his parents knowing full well this aunt would be there and routinely ask him about that picture. With her passing he was finally able to let that go. I thought. Apparently, it still lies there underneath, a fear of some lost relative tracking it down. Sounds like April 1st material if you ask me....

"Don't say anything but I think they are related to me." 

Crack. Me. Up.

nathan: email reminder about leadership training this weekend...rsvp wanted regarding attendance and childcare.

me: two attending. one child, eight months old, potty trained.

nathan: sorry. no childcare for children with hairy butts.

me: and I thought Jesus came to see and shave the lost...

on the lighter side...

Kevin revealed tonight on our way to Panera that at the end of his morning routine he discovered he had forgotten to shave. He backpedaled upstairs to remedy the oversight and headed downstairs once again to leave for work. On his way out the backdoor he realized he was sock-footed. With grinning eyes he said, " I knew I was in for a long day."

My email was answered. It was grace-filled and informative. My concerns were noted. I was misinformed regarding it being the senior minister who maintains the marquee. It is a senior saint who might have been offended were they told to change the sign. It isn't as simple as changing the sign. He stated that he thought the quote might be a little over the top when he saw it the first time but suggested it wasn't all that different from the offensive nature of Luke 13:5 (repent and be saved) and that we must preach the good with the bad albeit in a "tongue and cheek" fashion.  He assured me that we are all on the same side and some people will think it funny, others won't. ( visions of lost people suffering all eternity in Hell always make me chuckle...) I appreciated his response and sympathize with the tension of allowing people to serve in freedom without micro-management. I still think we have a responsibility to the eyes that drive by day after day, as well as a responsibility to keep teaching our people regardless of their age. I'd love to meet the person that makes a u-turn into their driveway convicted by this particular message. And I'd like to share the end of that 13th chapter with anyone who finds the sign funny. Jesus weeping over the city always gets me rolling...

So I called on Tuesday and foolishly (egotistically) thought the sign would immediately be changed due to my enlightening effort. Nope.

I emailed last night. Mom always said to sleep on it but you know how email works. For some reason my finger zones in on send before drafts or delete. I figure people either completely ignore stuff like this all the time or maybe there's some unspoken church etiquette preventing us from speaking freely. Reminds me of something a friend once said about allowing/excusing/enabling habitually poor behavior from certain senior saints that we wouldn't tolerate from a 2nd grader. Or something to that effect. Trying to decide if I'm on a soapbox or if it's worth being this upset about. My nephew said he once saw a BILLBOARD (not in Quincy) that read "Repent And Be Saved Or Go To Hell" sponsored by a Christian church. I wonder if anyone ever called them and said anything. I'm assuming a committee of sorts had to approve that one since billboards aren't cheap...imagine that process. Wonder what else was in the running...

We'll see if I get a response. Ironically, their mission statement begins "To attract..." I included my name and phone, not a big fan of anonymous "flaps" either :) But one soapbox at a time...

arghhh....

"You may think you will party in hell but you will be the barbeque."

I normally do two things when I see a stupid church sign. I laugh. I text a friend of mine and make him laugh. Today I didn't laugh. I turned around to see if I really read it correctly even though I was running late for a lunch with my sister-in-laws. Sadly that's what it said. 

"You may think you will party in hell but you will be the barbeque."

I was still thinking about it after lunch and passed it again on my way back to work. The more I thought about it the madder I got. I decided to hold them accountable. I took a deep breath, shuffled through my handy basket full of fruit for gentleness and self control, dialed their number and said "tell me about your sign."

"I'm not sure what's on our sign right now."

"You may think you will party in hell but you will be the barbeque."

"Oh, I can tell you what that means. We believe that yada, yada, yada..."

He actually explained the theology behind the quote. [Where's patience...I know I had some patience in this basket...]

"I get the whole hell thing. I guess I just don't get why a church who really gets the whole hell thing would put something like that on their sign."

"Well our senior minister finds those in a book."

"I've been a Christian my whole life and signs like that embarrass me. It's hard enough to get people through the doors sometimes without churches putting crap like that out there for people to see. It's irresponsible."

"What did you say your name was?"

I spell it out for him. I tell him I'm on staff and where. I tell him I have a long history with our local Christian churches. I tell him I'd appreciate him passing my comments on to the knucklehead who picks out the clever crappage that makes it off the pages of an apparently published quote book and onto their sign. Okay, I didn't say that last part but man that makes me mad. And thankful at the same time for being part of a church that gets it.

May send him a crate of Bubba's...