This week I have come to the conclusion that my innocence is lost forever.
One of my co-workers asked me on Tuesday, "Do you know what a chipper is?". I was quiet for a moment, trying to let my imagination run wild, all the while thinking, "Lord only knows ...".
When I finally gave up, she said, "It's one of those things that you put a potatoe inside, pull the lever and it cuts it into french fries".
"Oh ... a chipper. Yeah, I know what a chipper is ..."
Mock me if you will, but I guess it is the company I keep at work, and also "the times, they are a' changing".
I know that if someone asked my mom to come to a "lipstick party", she would make sure there was plenty of money in her purse to spend on Mary Kay or AVON. This is the woman who once told me that one of her students had a pet cockroach, because another student had come up to her to tell her that he had a "roach" in his pocket.
Her answer?
"That's fine, as long as he doesn't take it out until recess time".
I am currently taking an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at a hospital in my city. Each week, we have eight hours of instruction and group work in the classroom and eight hours visiting patients on our assigned wards.
The theory behind CPE is that you are the tool that you use to help people in need. Over the unit you set goals to improve your skills and work through your limitations.
I am hoping to become more of a tool than ever by the end of the seven months.
Because we are interns with the Spiritual Care department in the hospital, one of our jobs is to make sure that every patient who passes through the hospital gets at least one visit, and to tell people about the ministry and services of the Spiritual Care department. We also offer to pray with the patients if they wish ... although some of us are more comfortable with that than others.
During one of our classroom role playing exercises, a classmate of mine was paired with the instructor. The senario had lead up to her praying with him, and after asking him if he wanted her to go that far, she began to pray for "Bill" and his "sudden heart attack".
I immediately found myself getting what could only be described as panicky ... as if God, being omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent cannot understand the concept of "pretending".
*frantically flipping through a giant book*
"Bill had a heart attack? When did that happen? What do you mean ... they're just practicing? Haven't they ever heard the story of the boy who cried w ... oh, great!!! Yellowstone National Park just burned down! Are you people happy now?!?"
Matthew, my friend Mark's brother, recently got married. I decided to make a cross-stitch picture for Matthew and his new wife (and my new friend - and goddaughter!) Lindsay to commemorate their wedding date. The picture took me a bit longer to finish than I'd expected, but when I sent it to be framed, I was told that it would be done the Saturday before the wedding. I was pretty surprised, because I had envisioned picking it up at the last minute, or even after the wedding, but the framer even chastized me, "It's getting pretty close, you know!".
I didn't get a call over the weekend, but I was driving past at about five minutes to closing on the Monday before the wedding and thought I would stop in, thinking that the framer had probably called and left a message at my apartment while I was at work.
BUT ...
When I asked if the picture was ready, the woman at the gallery said it was not. "I haven't been doing anything. My dad pased away last Thursday, and I am still trying to get my head around that ... but I am going to do it".
I backed out apologetically, and gave an excuse about being at the gas station kitty corner to the framer. I casually told her, "Call me when it's ready!".
BUT ...
I was thinking, "Why is it every time I call someone on something it turns out to be a situation like THIS!?!"
AND ...
I really wanted to ask, "Is it still going to get done on time? Are you planning to prioritize it? It is date sensitive. It has the date right on it. You know the wedding is in five days, right? I mean, I'm sorry your dad died, but ... please get it done! Even just by Saturday morning! I HAVE COUNSELLING SKILLS!!! I CAN HELP YOU PROCESS YOUR GRIEF!!!"
I wanted to say those things, but that's rude, right? Her dad just died and here I am, thinking, "Why do bad things always happen to me ...".
THEN ...
I went home, made supper, and start watching a Dane Cook comedy special. His first segment was about how he lies to people right to their face all the time.
AND ...
I started to doubt her!
"Did her dad even die!?!? She didn't seem sad at all. How easy would that be? I bet she says that all the time! Who would ever question that? WELL ... her dad DAMN WELL BETTER HAVE DIED!"
AND ...
Even if he didn't die, couldn't someone else have done it? What kind of a BUSINESS is she RUNNING where all the employees are RELATED to HER and HER DAD?!?!"
THEN ...
"Oh ... that is so mean. You don't know her! Maybe she doesn't like to show her feelings. Maybe she hated her dad and that's why she smiled sweetly when she told you he died. You smile a lot. Would you want people to judge you? Don't be such a hater".
Every day, I would come home from work, check the answering machine, and walk away whispering curse words to myself. I finally went back the day before the wedding. As soon as I walked in, she said, "Hi ... I'm not quite there yet".
Deciding that her mourning period was over, at least as far as my picture and I were concerned, I firmly asked her, "Do you think it will be done by closing tomorrow?"
"It will be done by opening tomorrow!" she declared, and asked me my name ... which no doubt means she hadn't even started it yet!
SO ...
Like a fool ... I believed her, and returned in the morning, as I was on my way to the church to let the baker in with the wedding cake.
As soon as I walked in the shop, she looked up and said, "Can I deliver it?"
My reply?
"WHAT?!?!"
On the table lay the cross-stitch ... as far as I could see, the same as the day I had brought it in. She said she needed "another hour", and I told her I would come back between the ceremony and the reception.
AND ...
When I did, she was finally finished.
BUT ...
As I looked it over, I noticed a wayward thread in the upper left hand corner. When I asked her about it, and she said that after she had stretched it, she hadn't been able to get that one thread to lay flat. However, the couple could bring it back to her, and she would take it apart and stretch it again ... which I wasn't sure would be free ... or done before their 25th anniversary.
I commented, "I was trying a new technique on the border I have never done before".
COUCHING: couching is used on some advanced cross-stitch patterns. When couching a floss, ribbon, or cording, the item is laid on top of the fabric and tacked down with tiny stitches.
She said, "Well, you did an excellent job ... except for right there".
I bit my lip to avoid saying, "Same to you ..."
I paid the bill, and left with more than enough time to wrap my present and get to the reception.
Today, as I was writing out the week's events on the church Facebook group, one in particular made me smile:
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8th 7:30 PM - Deaf Committee Meeting
Once a month, there is a signed service, and I'm sure the more politically correct term "hearing impaired" should have been used for this gathering, but as it is currently worded, it really made of think:
At my church's Saturday night service, we often sing "Blessed Be Thy Name" by Matt Redman. One evening, the following lyrics were projected by Powerpoint to the congregation:
Blessed be Your name When I'm found in the dessert place Though I walk through the wilderness Blessed be Your name
I'm not sure if you noticed the church secretary's error, but we are supposed to be singing about "the desert place", not "the dessert place". However, this song's meaning had forever been changed in my mind, and I actually prefer the "revised version".
Personally, I need all the help in the dessert place that I can get ...
My friend Miles recently posted this photo on his blog, stating it "could be the single most spiteful thing I've ever seen".
However, it appears to me, due to the date being off centre, that March 25th is his date of birth and a date of death still needs to be added: in other words, he is still alive at the age of 79.
I think this guy is highly optimistic ... or perhaps more spiteful and pessimistic than anyone may realize.
How does he know that he will die from illness?
Or than no one will acknowledge it?
Perhaps everyone at his funeral will be left scratching their heads:
"Sick? Well, then why did he go skydiving? Poor Donald ... too sick to pull the ripcord, too cheap to forfeit the deposit ...".
This week I have come to the conclusion that my innocence is lost forever. 
