This poem was written for Ethan, who laughed for the first time yesterday, at eleven weeks old.
He hadn’t meant to
But during the prayer, he just miss-used a word…
That changed the meaning entirely,
And started me bubbling up with glee.
I pursed my lips and bit my cheek,
Praying that God would make me meek.
I tried to think of something sad;
I drew a frown on my notepad.
But the harder I tried the worse it got,
And I knew my face was getting hot.
It isn’t right to laugh in church,
But I felt my stomach begin to lurch.
From deep within the laughter rolled.
I sniffed—to disguise it as a cold.
Oh, Lord, how long can this prayer last?
I stood there silent, shoulders shaking,
My face was scarlet, sides were aching.
In a moment of weakness I let out a snort,
And had to hold onto the pew for support!
I took a breath, let out a sigh…
And gave serenity one more try.
And then—a miracle! He said, “Amen.”
Just as I gained composure again.
Embarrassed, I wiped the tears from my face.
Oh why did I have to be such a disgrace?
I opened my eyes—just looked straight ahead.
My cheeks, still wet. My eyes, still red.
As the preacher began to read the Word,
I started to wonder, Had anyone heard?
I glanced at the man next to me, and surprise!
He was looking back with concern in his eyes.
His gaze was one of deep compassion.
He obviously had misread my reaction!
The swollen eyes, the shortness of air,
He thought I was weeping in response to the prayer!
My collapse in to silliness, however brief,
Had been confused with sorrow and grief!
For who would expect uncontrollable laughter,
From the poised, ever-spiritual wife of the pastor?
Based on a true story--when a pastor (not Donnie) prayed that we would remember that "we are but dust" and I heard butt dust! heehee.