Panic at the Church

First, let me explain:

I absolutely know that “Maren” is not a sole proprietorship. I can picture in my mind a large corporation, in a tall building with dozens of departments and a plethora (yes I know what a plethora is…) of employees.

You know I’ve always wanted to be CEO of something!

There are divisions for everything that goes on in, and as part of, my mind and body. Often, various departments work together to maintain balance and happiness for me. The Aging Department, for example,  maintains and cares for, all things aging, including, but not limited to, real or imagined wrinkles and how we feel about them. Aging works closely with other departments, such as Vanity, Shopping, and Freaking Out.

For the last few months, Aging has been sending memos that basically say, on occasion, I would benefit from reading glasses. They’ve been pretty relaxed, just mentioning the possibility. In fact, a couple pairs were, in fact, procured, but only for private use.

Recently, the memos had become insistent. The company’s CEO of Maren’s Life (me) had received other urgent messages from several departments, including the Reading, Writing, and the Leading the Music in Church divisions. A meeting was held.

Leading the Music in Church was concerned that I am not able to see the words printed in the hymnbook, which is an important function of leading the singing in church. More than once or twice, it was brought up,  I have looked out over the congregation and then down at the hymnbook, only to find that I had no idea what it said. Also, despite singing those same hymns every week in church for 44 years, no one has thought to file them permanently anywhere in my head. (a note was made: Hire a Hymn Memorization Department).

It was finally determined that reading glasses must be worn, not only in the privacy of my home, but also at church. I have 2 or 3 pairs, so I picked the blue ones on Sunday morning. Tucked safely into my jacket pocket, they were ready to be worn at the appointed time.

Church begins. Blah, blah, blah. Time to sing the opening song. The organist plays the hymns introduction. I am adjusting the music stand, laying out the book and popping on the glasses. It’s go time!

The first thing I realize as the hymn begins is that no one is singing. Well, not no one. I’m singing, the people behind me are singing, and one very sweet lady on the front row is singing her guts out. I look out over the congregation to catch some eyes and give some meaningful stares, only to be abruptly face to face with the reality of reading glasses, which is, that you cannot see far away. You will understand, that, having only used these at home in bed so far, there was no opportunity to notice this flaw.

So, with the hand that was not leading the song, I slid the eyewear down my nose a teensy bit and peered over them. I could see the congregation clearly now, and more specifically, my dear husband. He had a giant smile on his face and…

oh my freaking heck!

Is he…

MOCKING ME??

The woman behind him had the same goofy smile on her face….

Deep inside Maren’s Head, panic ensued!

ABORT! ABORT! REMOVE THE GLASSES!

REMOVE THE FREAKING GLASSES!

My arm obeyed and I speedily yanked those things off my face and crammed them back into my pocket.

Problem NOT solved! Secondary difficulties! Aging has had  their feelings hurt. Big Time. Messages are sent to eyeballs to tear up. Mouth is quivering.

Uh oh. Am I going to cry? Holy Crap! I can’t CRY! I’m leading the music for Pete’s sake!

Quick! Get someone in here! Stat!

Emergency Problem Solving rushes in and demands that every one calm down. Crying is forbidden. NO CRYING. Emotional distress handling rushes in with promises of chocolate and Kleenex.

Aging sucks it up, but starts sulking. They want to call Legal and demand that we divorce THAT MAN immediately, before the end of the song if possible!

Everyone is rushing about, freaking out, falling apart and coming unglued.

I avoid anyone’s eyes for the rest of the hymn, which lasted for 4 very long verses.

The song finally ends and I plop down into my seat.

I am exhausted. I basically just had a company wide meltdown.

Time to find out what happened.

After a short investigation, it was discovered that I am extremely sensitive to any signs of aging. And, very, very, vain.

Who knew.

Ok, well, I knew.

But apparently, it’s more widespread and serious than I originally thought. We need to lay some people off in aging. That department is overstaffed. Unfortunately, I’m too vain to lay anyone off in the Vanity department. I love those guys.

Later, much, much, later, I told Husband what had happened. Turns out he was just smiling cause he likes me. He also thought those were my regular glasses and was wondering what the heck had happened to my contacts since we arrived at church.

Then, he said;

Uh oh.

Me: What?

Him: I have a small concern.

Me: What is it?

Well, in the spirit of loving helpfulness, he had purchased a large print hymnbook for me, for Valentine’s Day, with my name on it, because I had mentioned that I was having trouble seeing the regular one! Now he is understandably having a second thought.

The entire company sighs a collective “OOOOOH! That’s so SWEET!”

Crisis averted.

I guess the divorce is off:)