Monday, October 4, 2010
Last week, we received an invitation to preach on Sunday night(last night) for a little country church that is currently without a pastor. We always look forward to going to this church. The congregation is made up of mostly elderly, country folks who are genuine and sincere in their experience. It is refreshing to see how they put everything they've got into the service. Some places won't get behind the singing/preaching unless the tempo of the song is fast enough or the preaching is a certain style. Not here.
So, they turn the service over to us and my husband called me to come sing. He chatted a little while the piano player picked out the tune and we adjusted the key. That's when it happened. I felt my pantyhose roll up and begin a slow, but sure, descent down my hips. What is one to do? My first reaction, however unwise, was to ignore them and hope they'd find a stopping place soon. As I gave in a little testimony and told them how glad we were for the invitation, they continued their slow retreat. What is a girl to do? I reached down and tugged one side, then the other. I glanced up from the spot on the back wall where I had fixed my gaze to see my husband looking at me with an expression of confusion and horror, as if I'd grown another head. He gave a curt shake of his head. So I chose the only other alternative: I grabbed a handful of pantyhose on the side and hung on for dear life while I sang my song.
Somehow, miraculously, I made it through the song. I don't recall feeling any special anointing. I fixated my eyes back the spot on the wall to avoid seeing the expression on people's faces. I can only imagine. What is wrong with this sister who is pulling at her underwear and singing with one hand on her hip like she's posing for a Chadwick's catalog photo shoot? As I was replacing the mic in the stand, one lady called out, "You got anymore songs?" I politely smiled, but made a beeline straight for the lady's room. Next time I'll remember to put my other, stomach-flattening unmentionable on TOP of my pantyhose!
I can only be thankful that this happened before a small congregation of mostly dim-sighted elderly saints. I'm hoping the few younger members do not completely write us off because of my strange, unladylike behavior.
And once again, the saying is proven: "The Funniest Things Happen In Church".
I hope I brought a smile to you face on Monday :).