8:59 am this morning, I missed a call. 9:16, I discover this, and return it. It’s my ex-wife’s number. She picks up, and is quite perturbed, and is yelling at me:
“WE ARE MISSING SACRAMENT MEETING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T BOTHER TO SEND KINLEY’S SHOES BACK WITH HER LAST WEEK!!”
I then find out that they subsequently called my dear mother (who is very sick right now), and somehow the situation ended up that my mom drove the sunday shoes up to my ex’s house.
So that she could make it to sacrament meeting, dammit.
Now hold on a second here… where was she going? To a meeting at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. WHOSE meeting? WHOSE name did she take upon her at baptism? WHAT is the purpose of going to said meeting?
Oh yeah… to learn about Jesus. To learn to be more like him.
And so in the mean time, tempers run high, people get yelled at, a sick saintly woman is pulled out of bed early, into the extreme cold of a deep winter freeze… and made to deliver shoes. (It should be pointed out that my ex wife owns a perfectly functioning car, and lives approximately 1.7 miles from my mom’s house.)
All in the name of making it to sacrament meeting.
The irony is stinky and suffocating.
I don’t say this to pick on my ex. She’s trying to do what she has been conditioned to think is right. Kudos to her, I guess. Nevertheless… The ironies of sunday morning should not be ignored.
Seriously folks. First things first. Let’s first concern ourselves with treating each other like Jesus would. Then let’s worry about relatively trivial things like showing up to the neighborhood fashion show… er… I mean, Sacrament meeting.
And bless my Mother’s heart.