The day: Sunday.
My hubby and I sat in our usual seats at church, people know I’ll cut them if they take my seat. I’m one of those Christians. 😉
Hubster has this thing about having to sit on the end of a row. No matter where we are. The minute a speaker or pastor says, “Could you scoot in please?” he bristles and makes a point to whisper in my ear, “I dare somebody to tell me to move in. If they wanted a seat, they should have showed up early or on time.” He’s one of those Christians. 😉
The worship was intense, the music building a bridge to heaven it seemed. My eyes were closed as I let the Lord run away with me. I may have even cried a little.
Then our pastor took the stage and turned the direction of the service.
“I’d like for you to find your spouse,” (some had gone to the altar to pray or worship) “and pray for each other.”
It was moving and I was ready to pray for my man. My husband is a lot taller than me, doesn’t take much, so I simply moved up on my knees so I could speak into his ear all the words the Lord would have me say to encourage and show my love for him. Prayer reveals your heart, you know.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, eyes still closed, moved by the music. I nuzzled my lips against the softness of his neck, giving him a light peck, or two. Yes in church! And then I began to pray…not loud…it was an intimate setting. I whispered against his neck, the soft spot below his ear.
I inhaled deeply and froze. Something was wrong.
A smell I didn’t recognize confused my mind.
My body froze. Heat filled my cheeks. Fear kept my eyes closed.
The sudden reality hit me like sumo wrestler speed skating in my direction.
This man was not my husband.
What was I to do? I finished praying. Yes, oh yes, I did. Then I as quietly as before, slid off my knees, scooted over to my seat and sat down, burying my head in my hands. Many questions flying through my head.
“Seriously, God? You couldn’t give me a heads up?”
“Oh for the love, who BEHIND me saw this? I’ll be the talk of the church for reasons that are actually valid!”
Well our vision statement says Love Connect Impact. I did it better than anyone.
“Where the crap is Tim?”
A few moments later, my real husband appeared. He sat beside me, put his arm around me and knowing me better than anyone paused before he said, “What did you do?”
Guess the writing was on the wall of my face.
“I sorta cheated on you for a minute.”
He scratched his head. “Say that again?”
I explained what I did, making sure to blame him for going to the altar. How dare he feel led to pray! And: “You never scoot in. You always sit on the end!” I’d forgotten that when he heard a new young man in his mid-twenties was visiting for the first time SINCE HE GOT OUT OF PRISON that my husband found him and invited him to sit with us–giving him the end seat!
Did he forget what kind of Christians we were? I mean, seriously!
“Jess, you have to tell him you thought it was me!”
“What? Like now?” Mortification set in like rigor mortise. Rigor Mortification.
At that moment, I was pretty sure every one was ignoring our pastor and glaring at me. You know, for cheating on my husband during service.
When church was over, I said to the guy, “Um, I just think you should know, that I totally thought you were my husband when I smooched your neck and prayed for you…and our children.”
He grinned. “It’s okay.”
My husband rolled his eyes at me, maybe at the ex-con. Probably me. He does that a lot. It’s a cycle. I do or say something. He rolls his eyes. It works for us.
Later in the car when hubby was reenacting the whole scene and laughing at my expense (also a cycle that works for us) he said, “I’ll bet he put his membership in today. Way to make new people feel welcome, Jess!”
“He said it was okay!”
“Yeah, I’ll bet it was!”
We still laugh about that. And he reminds me often: “Please keep your lips to yourself…or to me.”
*I did kiss another man in our house during small groups. I went one way, he went another, and back, for a hug and SMACK! It was his first time to small groups at our house.
I told hubby, “It was an accident.”
He said, “You’re having them too often.” 🙂
#1 reason to keep your eyes open while kissing (or praying): Really? Do I have to spell it out?