I Am Twelve

I am not allowed to sit in big kid church unattended anymore.

By big kid church, I mean the "traditional" church service that happens at our church. There are several reasons why I need a chaperone, but what happened today really cemented it. 

If you've read Life From Scratch before, you know a little something about our family. So it should be no surprise that a water balloon was discovered among Tater Tot's possessions in the weekly pre-church pat down. It was confiscated (along with several rocks, a Goosebumps book, a cane, two pine cones, a baby doll sweater, and a pair of my earrings.) The water balloon wound up on my lap when we sat in the sanctuary for the service. Where I forgot about it. For a short time.

They're a year round activity at our house.

I'm a fidgety, grabby sort of person and frequently find myself holding things that I have no memory of picking up. I blame this on my Multiple Sclerosis. Having holes in your brain makes you a bit of a nutter. I have a doctor's note that says so. Anyway, there I am with Tater Tot on one side of me and Doodle on the other, and a live time bomb water balloon in my lap. A water balloon with a name (George), a back story (likes: TV, burping, and eating hamburgers and celery), and its own pillow (rainbow stripes). A water balloon that's been in the family. For a year. And a half.



I'm sitting nicely, shushing kids, looking for the bulletin, blocking access to the tempting stack of blank tithe envelopes, squeezing the water balloon, finding dropped pencils, and trying to pay attention to the responsive reading. It's all going quite well, too. 

This is one time when being Biblical isn't working out so well for me as my left hand does not know what my right hand is doing. Matthew 6:3, taken out of context.



And then, in spectacular, Oscar worthy slow motion action, a rather large body of water appears, suspended. Hovering in the air in front of us. Quivering there like some alien life form. For the space of a heartbeat. And then it isn't. 

Possible intelligent life form.

It's pretty impressive how much water fits into those little water balloons. I was impressed with how it seemed to know right where to go for maximum impact, too. Several square feet of floor, two hymnals, purse, child, unknown lady's hair, my skirt, shoes, underwear, and shirt. 

I think water balloons may be sentient on some level. 



There is nothing quite like seeing the murder of your cherished, antique water balloon that you've loved and cared for since its infancy to make you see red. Which is exactly what happens next. In a voice to make an enraged gorilla proud, Tater shrieks, "Why?! WHY?! Why would you kill him?!" and lunges across my soggy, puddle covered lap to punch Doodle in the face, thinking that he's the murderer.



This is all happens during prayer. Doodle and I with tears from smothered laughing. Tater, enraged and fists swinging. My entire lower half is like a waterfall. Rivers of water dripping onto the floor and pew. People scooting away in all directions.


This is why I am not allowed to be in big church by myself.

Not a happy feeling.

Our church has a mission statement: Inviting God to do a fresh work in us and through us. I think in my case it needs to be changed to "Inviting God to do a fresh work in spite of..." I did feel fresh today though.