We in the United Methodist Church take communion at the beginning of every month. I love this about our church and look forward to it. I have a very high view of communion and treat it with deep reverence and prayer. I am not sure that most people truly grasp the beauty of this practice...but that is another blog. This one is much lighter and funnier. If you want more on communion, I'd encourage you to check out Eucharist: Christ's Feast with the Church by Laurence Hull Stookey.
I would just like to preface this little story by saying one thing. In the six months since I moved to Auburn, I have not fallen down even once. This is a feat for me. I have a tendency to trip, fall down, and do overall klutzy things...often. I did my fair share of falling in Kentucky...down the stairs (at least five times), in the quad (at least twice) and just generally walking around. It is a tragedy for me and a treat for my friends. With my long record of not falling here, I thought I left my klutzy nature in Kentucky.
Boy, was I wrong...
A few weeks ago, I was at church preparing to take communion. I became terribly aware that my foot was asleep. This is not good, since we rise to take communion in my church. I couldn't stomp my foot, so I just determined to really focus while walking to the altar. Focus I did. I walked slowly and deliberately to the front. I even eased around the piano to the empty spot where I would kneel. Mind you I could not feel my foot...at all. I made it to the rail, quite satisfied with myself for not losing my balance.
Then it happened.
I began to kneel and all of the sudden I just started falling to the left. It did not occur to me that my ankle might completely give out at this point. It did and I lost it. The story could end here and be funny enough. Oh, but it doesn't...it gets worse.
As I actively fall (keep in mind communion usually entails almost complete silence...), I let out a loud whimper. Actually it was more like a grunt. It is sort of hard to describe in words (sound effects are better). The best comparison I can muster is that sound Homer Simpson makes when he's been caught or done something stupid, "doh!" A somewhat loud, prolonged, "doh!"
With a look of horror on his face, the nice man next to me tried to "catch" me. I wouldn't exactly let him...I caught myself with the communion rail. I sort of brushed him off and bowed my head as if to pray. Mostly I sat there wondering how I could leave without anyone noticing. I realized that would be impossible, so I just prayed to die right then and there.
The pastor came past with the communion wafers and...he gave me two out of pity. At least that made me smile. I stayed there and attempted to pray, but mostly just gathered my dignity. I made it back to my seat and could think of nothing else for the rest of the service. Single most embarrassing moment ever.
The next two days I did the following: (1) I fell down at the gas station and got grease all over my pants and (2) spilled an entire diet coke all over my pants. I think it is safe to say the klutz in me is back...full force.