It's Water Under the Bridge

It's All Water Under the Bridge Now

There are many inconveniences about growing older, and new health issues pop up all the time that cause one to make changes in the daily routine. Although not a big difficulty, water pills are certainly something to be reckoned with.

My first Sunday at church on the "little helpers," I thought I was prepared, but I had not entirely thought it through. The procession up the aisle was lovely. I read the gospel as always, but as I did so I began to notice a need to make a trip to the ladies’ room. Not an urgent need, but the only handy time to exit the service would be during the sermon. So I returned the gospel book to the altar and ducked out the back of the sanctuary rather than returning to my seat.

The bathroom light switch is rigged so that when the light comes on, so does the fan, and it was noisy. I hurried, but as I was washing my hands, someone knocked on the door. It was my husband, telling me to turn off my microphone. The noise was drowning out the preaching from the pulpit.

I was so embarrassed I wanted to leave and never go back again. My husband reassured me that hardly anybody knew what sounds they were hearing, just that there was interference in the sound system. That was not altogether true, but it helped me be brave enough to show my face again.