So….there I was minding my own business, sitting quietly in the balcony during church. It suddenly occurred to me that something was wrong. For a warmish summer day, there were no windows open, no bees buzzing around the sanctuary…couldn’t even hear the Methodists singing across the street.
Huh. Oh right. After more than 100 years of worshipping in heat and humidity, First Mennonite had installed central air. Amazing. I still nodded off…sorry Steve, it wasn’t the sermon. Blame it on the pain meds.
Toward the end of the service, I heard some rustling from the Saint’s hand. He’d crumpled up a piece of paper and was carefully taking aim at a head below us. I elbowed him, feeling like I was admonishing my daughters. Turns out the head below belonged to his childhood buddy, Rick, back for a short visit from Japan.
Across the aisle, another friend — close in age — had a paper airplane in his hand. His wife was rolling her eyes at me.
Somehow I convinced him to wait until the benediction was over…but boy, he didn’t waste any time. Missed the head, but hit the back, producing chuckles from Rick and his older brothers.
Ah yes, boys will be boys.