We went to the "contemporary service" this morning at Cherry Hill Christian church and I completely humiliated myself. For those of you who know me well I am sure you will have no trouble believing this at all. this story ends with my shoe stuck to the floor, trying to hide a wet piece of paper while Clint is pretending that he doesn't know me. Good, now that we have the horrifying ending out of the way let's get started.

Whenever you are going to a new church there are several anxiety producing points of the morning. The first of course is what time exactly you are going to arrive. You don't want to be there late because it is disrespectful. You DO NOT want to get there early because then you spend a lot of time simultaneously hoping that someone comes over to talk to you and being terrified that someone will come over and talk to you (at least that is what you do if you are an introvert like me.) This morning Clint and I timed it perfectly. We walked in with about 4 minutes to spare- enough time to smile and meet a few people but no time for life story discussions. Another problem when you visit a new church is where to sit. Heaven forbid you take a "regular's" seat! Again timing is important. Four minutes before the service all the members are in their assigned seats. Clint and I walk in, and find an empty pew close enough to the back to not feel conspicuous but towards the front enough to seem interested and friendly. We smile, shake a few hands, the minister comes over and we introduce ourselves and then we start to get settled. I look at the pew in front of me and it seems that a couple has left their communion cup from last week in the cup holder. Odd- but not very interesting. The music starts and I feel a hand on my shoulder. As I turn around to see a very nice couple behind us trying to introduce themselves, I kick the two communion cups and they come out of the holder and fall with a loud tap tap tap to the floor. I am unconcerned. I meet the couple and then stand to sing. As I am singing a rousing verse of Yes Lord I look down and see a LAKE of grape juice on the floor right in front of my seat. Apparently these are not empty communion cups from last week. They are (were) full communion cups to be used in a little while when we have communion. I would need a mop to clean up all of this grape juice. So, I discreetly sit down, take a green paper insert from the bulletin and place it like and oasis the middle grape juice lake hoping against hope that it will sop up this embarrassment. No such luck- it floats in the grape juice and turns purple but does not make a dent in the gallons of liquid.

Finally we are all asked to be seated. As the sermon progresses I sit, trying to avoid this puddle of my own creation. Only, now it's spreading. A little while later I look down and my foot has been completely enveloped by the creeping flood of juice. I move my foot and continue on with my sermon meditation. Finally- the end of service. The minister is giving announcements. He is talking about how everyone needs to sign up to help the church with their new service. "Everyone has a green insert in the bulletin-please get a hold of it." I look around people are rustling paper. I inconspicuously (I hope) reach down and pick up the now purple limp piece of paper as the Minister is saying "Hold it up in the air...I want to see every one of you. This is a symbol of your commitment to us...to the Church...to GOD. I want to see everyone with their papers up!" I look helplessly at Clint- who by this time as moved away from me oh so slightly. I am torn-I’m committed to God-to the church-I’m not ashamed to say it but now the only way to declare such a thing is to wave this mess around in the air? Then the Preacher says "Clint and Rachel please stand up- Congregation these are visitors with us today I want everyone to get to know them..." I quickly wad the paper into a ball and stand with purple juice dripping down my wrist. I take a step closer to my husband so everyone will know I am with him and my shoe, which by this time is covered in dry sugary grape juice sticks firmly to the floor while my stocking foot slips out of in and lands squarely in the puddle I have created. And I end as I told you I would: my shoe stuck to the floor, trying to hide a wet piece of paper while Clint is pretending that he doesn't know me.