Auto pilot
It's no secret that the Currys can be a wee bit time challenged. We usually manage to dash in the door just as things (anything) are beginning. While not often actually late, we cut it pretty short often, and are pretty much never early. This is all a necessary prelude to my Easter morning story.
We all got up on Easter morning, I did the animal chores, and B., D., and I hid all the eggs for the egg hunt which would happen after church. We were finished in time for everyone to have a nice breakfast together before we left for church. We were doing just fine time wise, and getting a row with enough seats for all of us should be easy.
J. drops us all at church and goes to park to van in the remote parking; we go inside the church. It is also at this point that my brain flips to auto pilot.
We walk in, and I happen to glance at the screen in the lobby which has a feed to inside the sanctuary. I notice that the worship leader is standing there, and to my eyes, looks all the world as if she is getting ready to start church. This is not unusual at all because this is the point we are usually getting to church. Realizing that we may not get seats together if we are this late, I hustle everyone through the getting of coffee and donuts, herd them all into church.
My non-auto pilot brain does note that there is no standing at the doors handing out bulletins. That part of my brain marks this as odd, and I keep hustling everyone in. There is one row way towards the front that has enough room, so we head into that and join the singing. After the song, the pastor gets up to speak. My non-auto pilot brain also notes this as odd since we rarely sing just one song at the beginning, but it's Easter, so things can be different. My non-auto pilot brain also noted that the service didn't seem very full, which was surprising because it was Easter.
When the pastor stands up, he mentions something about a benediction. My reaction? An inward rolling of my eyes because he wasn't using the term benediction correctly. I bet right now you are all chuckling right along with my older children, who at this point, are finding it rather difficult to not to fall on the floor laughing. It took me several more seconds to realize what had happened.
We were so early that this was the 8 am service finishing. We don't normally have an 8 am service, so it didn't occur to my auto pilot brain that something was different. We got to church, church was going, therefore we must be late to church. Except we were 20 minutes early to church. It was actually pretty hilarious. And we did get seats all together, I might add.
What was more irritating was that my older children knew we were that much early yet still let me hustle everyone into the service. And, as one child pointed out, when we enter, it is not exactly discreet and not noticeable. It's kind of put me off trying to be early, if things like this are going to happen.
It also makes me realize how easy it is for the human brain to make assumptions and conveniently ignore all signs that these assumptions are not correct. There were any number of hints and signs that the 9:15 service had not started, but because I had this idea in my head, I paid them no heed. There is the vague, disconcerting question which lingers in the back of my head regarding how many other times has this happened, but without the moment where everything comes into focus. I will probably never know.
We all got up on Easter morning, I did the animal chores, and B., D., and I hid all the eggs for the egg hunt which would happen after church. We were finished in time for everyone to have a nice breakfast together before we left for church. We were doing just fine time wise, and getting a row with enough seats for all of us should be easy.
J. drops us all at church and goes to park to van in the remote parking; we go inside the church. It is also at this point that my brain flips to auto pilot.
We walk in, and I happen to glance at the screen in the lobby which has a feed to inside the sanctuary. I notice that the worship leader is standing there, and to my eyes, looks all the world as if she is getting ready to start church. This is not unusual at all because this is the point we are usually getting to church. Realizing that we may not get seats together if we are this late, I hustle everyone through the getting of coffee and donuts, herd them all into church.
My non-auto pilot brain does note that there is no standing at the doors handing out bulletins. That part of my brain marks this as odd, and I keep hustling everyone in. There is one row way towards the front that has enough room, so we head into that and join the singing. After the song, the pastor gets up to speak. My non-auto pilot brain also notes this as odd since we rarely sing just one song at the beginning, but it's Easter, so things can be different. My non-auto pilot brain also noted that the service didn't seem very full, which was surprising because it was Easter.
When the pastor stands up, he mentions something about a benediction. My reaction? An inward rolling of my eyes because he wasn't using the term benediction correctly. I bet right now you are all chuckling right along with my older children, who at this point, are finding it rather difficult to not to fall on the floor laughing. It took me several more seconds to realize what had happened.
We were so early that this was the 8 am service finishing. We don't normally have an 8 am service, so it didn't occur to my auto pilot brain that something was different. We got to church, church was going, therefore we must be late to church. Except we were 20 minutes early to church. It was actually pretty hilarious. And we did get seats all together, I might add.
What was more irritating was that my older children knew we were that much early yet still let me hustle everyone into the service. And, as one child pointed out, when we enter, it is not exactly discreet and not noticeable. It's kind of put me off trying to be early, if things like this are going to happen.
It also makes me realize how easy it is for the human brain to make assumptions and conveniently ignore all signs that these assumptions are not correct. There were any number of hints and signs that the 9:15 service had not started, but because I had this idea in my head, I paid them no heed. There is the vague, disconcerting question which lingers in the back of my head regarding how many other times has this happened, but without the moment where everything comes into focus. I will probably never know.
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