Before I share these holy misadventures, I just want everyone to note that when my cousins and I were really young, we were essentially left to our own devices for Sunday service. Our grandfather was preaching, our parents were in the choir and we were front and center. Adorable but mischievous. I mean, look at this motley crew.
And we were supposed to just behave ourselves? Yeah right. Look at my eyes. Full of...I wanna say early schizophrenia? Look at Brittany's smile. Up to no good. Look at Josh's hair. Just for LOLs.
Church Softball
So much mischief happened at Harpers Crossroads during the church league softball games and practices. At Harpers, or HCX as the locals call it, I mainly wreaked havoc with my friend Cori. We would try to hot-wire golf carts, beg our parents for money to buy red hotdogs from the concession stand and at one point we cracked a toilet open. Sometimes we would be social and play with the kids from other churches. Tennis, baseball, riding scooters. Let me rephrase. If you HAD a scooter you could ride it. Did I have a scooter? Nope. All I had was a stupid Skip It (that I actually loved, thanks Mom and Dad). So I always asked Hannah to borrow her scooter. Those are her very first memories of me, the poor kid with no scooter of her own.
Communion
I got a lot of spankings in church. Like a lot. Pretty sure I did lots of praying for Jesus to deliver me from the literal hand of my enemy to no avail. It's a wonder I'm still a believer. I think the worst beating I ever received in the house of God was after I ruined communion. I was too young to understand communion, all I remember is that a tray was being passed around and there was bread in it. Bread at church? Finally! God had answered my prayers! I reached my little hand in there and grabbed a hearty fistful of unleavened squares. I wasn't trying to desecrate the body of Christ I was just hungry. That of course made no difference to Missy as she grabbed my wrist with...my memory is a little hazy but I'm pretty sure it was a vise grip...and waited for every single square to plunk back into the plate as my tiny little fingers unfurled.
Hide and Seek
Once upon a time my grandfather went to preach somewhere else and we had a different preacher for about a year. At some point during that awful period, the church members all had Sunday dinner at the new guy's house. (FYI: Dinner = supper every day except for Sunday when dinner becomes lunch.) After we ate, the kids decided to play hide and seek. A game that always gave me a tremendous amount of anxiety because it involved being alone, which I hate and the possibility of losing, which I also hate. Like really hate. So much that I peed in my pants that day to avoid leaving my hiding spot for a bathroom. Oops.
Trunk or Treat
Ahhhh Halloween. The candy is not as good as Easter but the outfits are much cooler. One year my grandfather decided we all needed to dress as animals for a Noah's ark Halloween. I ended up being a turtle somehow. And not a ninja turtle but a turtle with no martial arts abilities whatsoever, though I did share their penchant for pizza.The costume itself wasn't memorable, what I remember from that Halloween is that I found myself in a fire ant hill approximately 1 minute after arriving at church. All I wanted to do was visit some trunks, get some treats and do a little cake walking. But as soon as those red devils started biting I was trying to rip off my green leggings and jerk the cotton-stuffed shell off my back. It was the worst Halloween ever. Even worse than when I dressed up as Kim Kardashian in college and left little North West in a frat house. #proudmom
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