And God Laughed At Me

One down, two to go.

After I spent 90 minutes setting up tonight's liturgy this morning, I returned in the afternoon to complete the final details and train the altar servers. They did very well, especially thanks to three of them who watched me like a hawk. I sat in the very first pew inventing hand signals for what they should do -- wiggling my hand side to side to tell them when to ring the bells, pointing at the ground when they dropped a host, and otherwise looking like an air traffic controller. They were stellar and I was really proud of them.

Before the liturgy began, I had directed everybody else too. The oils knew when and where to go. The concelebrants knew what to do. The readers were coached. I had everything set, then the presider went and decided to change what I had told them at the very last second. I tried to "fix" it, and he literally brushed me off with a wave of his hand. I was infuriated. I got up to my seat and was grumbling to myself, "First, the guy doesn't help me at all with this massive liturgy. Then, he changes my plans at the last second. And I already *know* he's not going to even say thank you for all of this hard work, none of which is in my job description!"

Fast forward to the foot washing. After a few reluctant moments on the washees' part in getting up to the chairs, only 11 people trickled up. One chair, right in the middle on the top step, stood empty. I turned around forlornly, trying to spot someone moving, but no one did. Finally, painfully, after many, many years of saying, "No way on God's green earth will you wash my feet!", I found myself removing my shoe and my sock in front of the whole congregation. I was not happy then either: "God, don't you know I have ticklish feet?!" Suddenly the same presider who ticked me off before Mass appeared in front of me, washed and then KISSED my foot.

I had to laugh to myself. The server becomes the servee. The thanks is given, in ways completely unexpected and unspoken.

God does have a sense of humour, doesn't he?

"Patience, child. I appreciate what you are doing."