Breaking up is hard to do: Kicked out of the pew

 The phone rang on a Thursday night. I checked the caller number and glanced with alarm at my husband across the room. "This can't be good," I said with trepidation before answering. "Hello Pastor Andhobbs, what can I do for you?" There was a long pause on the other end before he bravely broke the bad news. Saturday night church was going to be cancelled. I stared with horror at Brad and Sydney as they sat on the couch. We had been asked to be an anchor family for this pilot program. What had we done wrong? Was it my late lunch two Birthday margaritas that had put us over the edge? Was it that Sydney always looked like she was going to toss her Communion offering into the air and catch it like a grape? Was it that Brad sometimes "forgot" his reading glasses so he couldn't be forced to "volunteer?"

"Are you breaking up with us," I asked in a trembling voice. Again...there was a silence on the other end. "No," he finally said, "It's not you...it's me." I couldn't believe this was happening. I thought back to all the good times. Two-year-old Silas's drum solo during the sermon. Infant Roland biting his father's shoulder during the benediction. "How did you know," Brad asked later. "My suspicions were confirmed when Pastor Andhobbs finally used his benediction paper to rub Roland's face off of him." The breathing contest when the five of us trooped outside to "see" our breath. Unfortunately, the 40 degree weather didn't cooperate for that particular little object lesson gem although somehow Suzie was declared the winner. Suzie. My nemesis. Suzie with her purse full of pens. Always ready when Pastor Andhobbs requires us to take notes. "I'll just use my crayon," I'd sniff haughtily. And if Suzie isn't bad enough...then there's Becca. Becca with the voice of an angel. Our worship song list always included two we'd know and two I swear that Pastor Andhobbs made up that morning. So the four or five or three of us would stumble through but if Becca was there, I'd lip-sync, using my crayon as a microphone. Who needs this type of intimidation?

So now it's back to getting up early on Sunday mornings. So long, personalized-to-us-sermons. Now when Pastor Andhobbs talks about sinning and hypocrites during his sermon, I'll have to assume that he's talking to the people in the pew behind me. So long, Pastor Andhobbs standing one and a half feet away from me while offering Communion and I don't know where to look or what to do with my face. Solemn? Rejoiceful? Hungry? So long, guilt when I'm going to an R-rated movie immediately following Saturday night church ("The Revenant" was gripping, by the way).

Reviewing my crayon-ridden sermon notes, I realized that Pastor Andhobbs had been laying the groundwork for my disappointment for some time. Case-in-point, his sermon on Psalm 112 mere months ago:  "Surely the Mosimans will only be slightly shaken; no one will remember them anyway; They will live in fear of bad news." (Bluetape Version). Anchor family? That ship has sunk!