A WASP in Church

Most Sundays, the Smith family attends church at Otwell United Methodist Church with Erik's family. Yet, as most of you know, I am Catholic—which has been a constant compromise in my marriage since we first took our vows—but I was lucky to have experienced many other faiths throughout my life. I have worshiped with Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists, even the Pentecostal faith. To me, spirituality is a very personal relationship with God that transcends the borders of established religion. Which perhaps is why I'm able to accommodate my husband by attending his church of choice throughout most of the year. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it's highly kid-friendly as well as interesting. But I digress.

Since I acquiesced to Erik in this regard, I had only one request: that our family attend a Catholic mass on Easter. Simple, right? YOU CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE!

This year, dressed in our Easter best (dress for me, dress for Ava, sweater vest and dress pants for Hudson....um, jeans for Erik.....?), we packed up and headed to St. Henry with my parents on Sunday morning. Perhaps I was greedy on this beautiful holiday, but I added one additional request as we pulled into the parking lot: PLEASE NO ONE EMBARRASS ME.

As we gathered our crew together in the parking lot, I gave Ava a few last-minute pointers. We need to sit still. We need to stay quiet. Still. Quiet. Got it? After settling in, then sneaking out to (1) take Ava for a last-minute restroom break and (2) hurriedly change Hudson's soggy diaper in the back of the van, we somehow managed to return to our pew just as mass was beginning. Whew! I felt like we were going to manage just fine. Minutes later, Erik was shuffling his feet, trying to get comfortable with the kneeler (a Catholic staple). He sent me suspicious sidelong glances. In a hushed stage whisper, he asked hoarsely, Can we please move this thing up? Millions of Catholics for thousands of years have managed to sit through mass with the kneeler, but apparently my husband is an exception to that rule.

Shortly after moving the kneeler, I noticed an unusual scent assuaging my nose. Not perfume, not incense, not even spring flowers. Then I realized Hudson was grinning and squirming. OH NO HE DIDN'T. But he had. We were nearly halfway into the mass at this point, and we had two options: sneak out to change him in the van (a task which requires at least two people if we intend to salvage the seat upholstery) or wait it out. Neither option seemed viable, but after a hushed consultation Erik and I chose the latter.

People, I'm not even to the worst part YET!

While Hudson grew more uncomfortable, more impatient, I tried with all my might to focus on the mass. Between my parents, Ava was under control, but I knew Hudson could melt down at any minute. Luckily the teenaged girl behind us was flirty and pretty and seemed content to smile and make faces at him. About the time little Hudson puffed out his chest and growled at her to show his manhood, I first noticed the wasp. If you read this post's title, you'll know the wasp is where things began to unravel. Also, if you know anything about us Catholics, you'll know we let nothing—and I mean nothing—detract us from mass. At all costs, we remain STILL and QUIET.

Cautiously I watched the wasp, as did many fellow churchgoers, but none of us were willing to make a scene. Briefly I sent up a prayer that Ava wouldn't notice it and freak out, as she generally does around bugs. Luck was with me—for the moment. She was too busy people-watching and book-reading. But I had forgotten about ESmith. Apparently, he too was watching the wasp. It dipped over heads; it soared across the expanse of the domed roof. It taunted, it teased, it planned its next move. The following few minutes were a blur as the wasp took center stage. Indeed, the Devil was surely pulling strings as the wasp chose this moment to land on the toddler seated in front of us. Unbeknownst to her parents, it settled on their child's head to rest.

Beside me, Erik's exaggerated stage whisper loudly announced, OH CRAP IT'S ON HER HEAD!

One good thing about this comment: it caught her parents' attention and they were able to brush it away before it stung her. For the record, I am very glad my husband was able to spare her that pain. One unfortunate thing about this comment: it caught the attention of many others seated around us, and embarrassed me to no end in the process. Had my husband just stage whispered the word CRAP in church? Not QUIET. Indeed.

Thus, the wasp moved on, this time to a tall gentleman seated in front of us and to the left. It fluttered around his family, ultimately landing on the back of his neck. I tried to track its progress, but I was swamped in embarrassment and barely processed the fact that Erik had now scooped up one of Ava's hardback books and was brandishing it like a sword. Hudson in one arm, the book in his hand, he watched the wasp.

When it landed on this man's neck, Erik reared back and my heart stopped. DEAR GOD HE WAS GOING TO SMACK THIS STRANGER ON THE NECK WITH A CHILD'S BOARDBOOK!

But what he ended up doing instead was swinging the book through the air and scraping the wasp away from this man's body. One good thing about this action: it once again saved a fellow human from suffering a sting. For the record, I am very glad my husband was able to spare him that pain. One unfortunate thing about this action: it caught the attention of many others seated around us, and embarrassed me to no end in the process. Had my husband just swung a book through the air in the middle of church and made contact with another man's body? Not STILL. Indeed.

Needless to say, I don't remember much about mass after that. Just a brief conversation I had with my daughter—the one Smith who managed to put in a flawless performance—afterward.

Ava: You know, Mom, that church has a lot of rules.

Mommy: Yes, honey, and I think we broke most of them.

Indeed.