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Monday, October 15, 2007

The Wandering Mind

This weekend I had the great honor of being a Confirmation Sponsor for our dear friends' son, Matt. For those who might not know what that means I'll explain. In the Catholic church when you are baptized, usually as a baby, your parents let the church know you promise to raise the child to believe in God and all that the church believes. Then when that baby grows up to be around the age of 13, as in Matt's case, he/she himself will Confirm what his parents promised. The sponsor, in this case me, assures everyone is on the up and up. I presented Matt to Bishop Gustavo Garcia-Siller, a high ranking priest, introducing him by his confirmation name, Joseph.

It was a very special day with lots of ceremony. As I stated earlier, I was honored to be a part of Matt's special day. I took my responsibility seriously. I was inspired by the words of Bishop Gustavo. We were one of the first to go. I didn't screw up Matt's name, I didn't run over the Bishop or Matt, and there was no inappropriate emissions of gas. I was feeling great. There were a lot of young adults making their confirmations as well. 45 minutes worth of young adults confirming themselves. We were done in the first 5 minutes. Which, meant there was going to be a lot of time I needed to occupy my mind for.


Since we sat up front all the people had to pass us. By nature I'm a people watcher, so for me this was a people watching jackpot. There was one thought that kept creeping back into my mind, shoes. Specifically, women's shoes. Not that I wanted to wear them, but why and how do women wear them. I saw young and old, flip flopping towards the Bishop, I saw young ladies desperately trying to balance on high heels, and I saw some women wearing things that probably would be banned by the Geneva Convention. Theses "shoes" had long pointed spikes that were intended to support the heal. Then they curved down six inches at an angle most roller coaster enthusiasts would hurl at. To be finished off with a pointed toe so sharp you could probably open a can of peaches with. The tip of the shoe extended a good 3 to 4 inches beyond the toes, why I ask? Then I started imagining people walking in church big clown shoes. That's what clown shoes do, but they extend about two feet past the toes.

Then I wonder if I'm being disrespectful in church making myself laugh in church. Finally, the regular part of the mass continued and my mind was pulled back. I thank God for all he provides me. I just wonder what He/She thinks when He/She sees that kind of footwear. Does God say, "Oh my Me!"

2 comments:

Bill said...

Hey Mark, thanks for being there for us, as always. Your a great friend and a great role model to our children. Thanks again.

Mark Plocharczyk said...

A role model? I was trying to be an athlete, damn it!