This month I’m participating in NaNoWriMo. Since I won’t have as much time to blog, I asked some of my favorite bloggers to guest post for me – and some of them were actually willing to do it. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do; they have become my friends through this crazy little thing known as the internet, and I’m grateful for their support. -Tricia
By Anissa Mayhew
It was a warm and lovely Sunday morning in Florida before my strokes and the wheelchair.
I walked my three kids into the building that would separate them by age and tag them for safety. Tag their shirts. Not their ears.
With my children successfully dropped off I left to make my way to the adults’ church.
The children’s church used to be THE church. Then they were able to build a much bigger and better-equipped building that meant the church had two buildings they could deem the CHILDREN’S church and the ADULTS’ church.
The walk between the two buildings was covered but significant. Imagine the distance between two Wal-Mart entrances.
I was halfway between the two buildings when I noticed a special feeling come over me.
It wasn’t the Holy Spirit.
It was the horrible realization that the elastic in my most comfortable pair of underwear was giving out. I knew this pair of underwear was past its prime but that seemed no good reason to get rid reason of them.
I was wrong.
For the love of all that is good and right in the world, ladies, toss those panties if you even THINK their lifespan is questionable.
I tried to hustle without breaking into an outright jog in high heels in front of the church.
S N A P
I stopped moving with my hand slapped to my thigh. The winning lottery ticket could have blown by and I couldn’t have chased it. My fingers were the only thing keeping my underwear from falling to my ankles.
The breeze picked that moment to gust and give my skirt a playful whirl.
I muttered a few word that gave the good Lord a direct order and then called his mother’s character into question.
With a precarious grasp on my underwear, I made it to the bathroom.
Then I stood in the stall and thought about my options.
Did I want someone to find a random pair of panties in a CHURCH bathroom stall, this wasn’t a Hooter’s.
I could only imagine the series of events that would include a knocked over trash can, spilled contents and faded green drawers flying into the crowd to land on the head of the passing preacher.
Yes, Jesus would think that was hysterical.
So I wrapped them in toilet paper and shoved them in the trash.
And I stood there.
Could I do this?
I have no problems with a lot of things but this was beyond even me.
Was I really going to go into the service commando?
OMG, could we not have the rapture at that moment because I didn’t want to meet the Holy Father underwear-less and answer why there were pubic hairs on the streets of gold.
Suffice it to say, I made it through the service. My vagina did not burst into flames like the burning bush.
Lesson?
2 Samuel 23:5 Yet he hath made with me an everlasting covenant. However, HE didn’t make you with with everlasting elastic.
Anissa grants tidbits of her fantastic wisdom at @AnissaMayhew and on Facebook, like how many times you can lick Ryan Reynolds on your TV before you get electrocuted.
One Comment on "Reason #689 Why I Won’t Go To Heaven"
Oh my goodness, I think I piddled a little reading this. Like my Pastor always tells us “God doesn’t care how you show up to worship, just as long as you show up.” I’m sure that includes going commando.