I’ve had a goofy Saturday morning. I had anticipated a nice, uncomplicated day. Other than morning Mass, I had nothing planned. Then, things happened.
I presided at the 8 AM Mass with the regulars present. Near the end of the homily concerning life eternal, I found myself reciting the words to an old Johnny Cash song where he sang of the family reunion he hoped for in heaven. I remember him singing of the family circle that will be rejoined and “unbroken” in heaven and, before I could catch myself, I belted out what I remembered of the tune and sang something like this: “One of these days–and it won’t be long– I’ll be singing a brand-new song –with my family circle at the throne!”
Why, I said to myself, did you do that? I answered myself that I couldn’t just recite the lyric without sustaining it with melody. But, my conscience answered that priests do not sing their homilies, especially at 7 AM. It’s self-serving –and, embarrassing.
Goofy morning thing #1.
Back at my house, I thought I would wait casually on the front porch for the Jewel food delivery which arrives on Saturday mornings at or around 9:30 AM. I waited. An hour later, it still hadn’t arrived. I am sitting there with my morning drifting away, trying to sustain the kindness of Jesus while I wait on the delivery guy, all the while still regretting my earlier solo performance at morning Mass. I sat wasting time and becoming more irritated until a red-faced pudgy guy brought in the bags. “Sorry man!” he said. Miffed.
Goofy morning thing #2.
Next, I’m in the kitchen putting the groceries away when my doorbell rings. I opened the door to a large-sized, uniformed police officer. The man in blue said that he gave out more tickets than anyone else in the department. He’d noticed my car was parked in a handicapped space without displaying the official handicapped placard. Though it’s a private lot, he could ticket me. He wanted me to display my handicapped placard when I park in the handicapped space next to my house otherwise, he promised to cite me.
“But, you came up my ramp and know that I’m handicapped,” I said.
“Gotta have the plaque displayed. If not, that’d be a hundred dollars,” he replied.
“Sometimes I just forget to hang the darn thing,” I said. Frustrated.
Goofy morning thing #3.
Then I thought I could clear my mind by talking to a friend who walks around with angina pectoris like it’s pain from a stubbed toe. After talking with him for a half hour, and not eliciting from him a promise to go to the E.R, I cut the call short. Why am I telling him what to do like some know-it-all? Frustration.
Goofy morning thing #4.
I spent the next hour watching “Laurel and Hardy” episodes and eating peanuts.