He forgot his earplugs and he had decided he needed to vomit because the incense made it hard to see. I gave up understanding that kind of logic years ago, but I dutifully followed him to the bathroom so he wouldn't puke on the carpet.
"Hurry up", I hissed through the door. Once again I was missing Church. Once again I had the pleasure of following his crazy butt around when I really wanted to sing in the choir.
I stood there in a hallway behind the altar waiting. I could hear the bass from the praise band in the building that shared a common wall with our Church. My head was pounding and I was growing more frustrated by the minute.
...it is better to be a servant in the house of God....
For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
I don't know why that popped into my head at that moment, but it instantly made me less irritated with the situation. It was a much needed reminder of what I should be feeling.
"Please hurry", I whispered again through the door.
I could hear the priest's chanting of the Liturgy on the other side of the wall. The choir's response momentarily drowned out the sound of the bass.
Lord have mercy
"Lord have mercy", I whispered. I really meant it this time.
I do not have the faith of the canaanite woman. She refused to leave even when the Disciples tried to send her away. She begged Christ for crumbs of grace for her tormented child. She did not grumble to herself and wonder why she bothered to try.
May God in His mercy make me more like her.
This is the reason I am here. He can hear through this wall. These are his crumbs.
