Church just takes on a whole new meaning when I’m with my dad.
First, he likes to sit up front…and I mean RIGHT UP FRONT.
Not such a bad thing…for example, today, we discovered that the organist takes off her shoes when she plays.
This morning was communion Sunday. As we went up front to receive the bread and dip it in a bowl filled with grape juice, Dad motioned that he wanted me to go first. “Ladies first,” he said.
I thought that would be smart, so he could watch how I did it.
Bad idea.
Dad reached around me and grabbed the bread, stuffing it in his mouth. Then, when he noticed I had dipped my bread in the juice, he pulled the bread out of his mouth to dip it.
“NO!” I shouted, stopping him in the nick of time. The sweet little lady elders who held the basket of bread and bowl of juice watched us, wide-eyed.
To top off the morning…as we left the pew, Dad noticed a man with a considerable girth. As in, Santa Claus-sized girth. Pointing to him, Dad announced in a loud voice, “Wow! He’s fat!”
I just know God is grinning ear-to-ear.
How I feel your pain. My dad would go though town (a small one, which he grew up in) and let them “have it”. I remember one being our friendly dry cleaners. My sister and I would quietly go behind him and call and try to explain. Sometimes they got it and sometimes they didn’t. The bottom line is illness–a devestating one that forever touches lives. I pray for you everyday. Love him all you can.