BEING OVERLOOKED

The sacrament is administered every week in our church services. It is usually blessed and passed by one of a multitude of teenage boys with hair in their eyes, pants low on their hips and ties casually unloosened to maintain the 'cool' image.

And the boys learn a carefully orchestrated system of passing the bread and water to the congregation to ensure that everyone present has an opportunity to partake of it if they wish. Going row by row, section by section, and even going out into the foyer for any parents forced to take refuge there with unruly children.

I sit in the front pew, far over to the left, not out of a show of piety, but to keep my good ear turned to whoever is speaking and my bad ear facing the noisy congregation to try to ignore the conversations, murmurs and shrieks of toddlers who really really REALLY want that toy which mommy just put away.

So normally I am the first one offered the bread after our bishopric has some.

This past Sunday, I wasn't.

The young man passing the sacrament walked right past me and went on to the next row. I finally caught one by the elbow as they were finishing up and grabbed a piece of the bread, not feeling particularly spiritually motivated but out of a sense of obligation.

Same thing happened with the water - I had to stop another one of the teenagers, and then halt him again as he immediately began walk away once I had picked up the sacramental cup of water, and actually force him to wait to accept the empty cup back as it was normally orchestrated.


So I sat, considering some things.

Am I that unremarkable? That vanilla, that commonplace? That easy to overlook? Or could it be that someone had 'suggested' that Sis. Wiltfong didn't really 'need' the sacrament, and was a not-so-subtle way to point out my many mistakes, social gaffes and harsh words spoken in haste?

And then I realized that this was pride whispering in my ear. Thinking that I was important enough for an elaborate plan of avoidance to have been devised. Considering myself as an insignificant part of God's kingdom here on earth.

No, it had been two teenage boys, stuffed with bursting hormones, adolescent minds mainly concerned with not tripping over their own feet as they publicly did what we LDSers consider our highest form of worship outside of our temples.

But next week I may wear something brighter.