The Silent Laugh That Went Awry

We sit together with our hands intertwined like a newlywed couple. We are kidless. As long as their nursery number doesn't show up on the screen. Comfortable. Happy. We take a deep breath as we relax and listen.

I soon begin to realize my attention span is not as mature as I thought. In fact it's closely resembling that of my four year old. I shift my weight a few times. I uncross and then cross my legs again. I flip through the scriptures in a student-of-the-Bible type fashion. 

I then did something I knew in my heart I shouldn't have done. I failed to heed the red flags that were being raised in my heart. I didn't listen. I looked to my left. 

I looked into the eyes of the handsome man sitting next to me whose hand I was holding. He had that look in his eye. The look that told me that he to was feeling the need to do a few jumping jacks. It was a very ornery look. I knew this look well. Trying to be a good girl I quickly looked away. Continuing down this path was a dangerous one.

I sat still and avoided the urge to look again at that mischievous face wanting to cause trouble and provoke me. I fought it for a few minutes, but the temptation was to strong and I looked again.  This time he spoke. I can't remember exactly what he said, but apparently it was funny. So funny, that it caused me to demonstrate my over-exaggerated silent laugh. 

I felt a big sense of accomplishment that I had overcome my juvenile impulse in a very quiet adult-like manner. I took what he had to dish out and reacted with minimal damage. 

I refocused myself back to the message. I forced myself to only look straight ahead or down at my Bible. 

I was confident that our little moment of childish banter had passed. I only glanced over to confirm that this was the case.

I was way off. This time he did what he knew would, with-out a doubt,  send me over the edge. 

He mocked me. 

It was there all along. Hiding. The giddiness had never really left, it had just been smoldering. He patiently waited for the perfect opportunity.

I didn't even know what I had done was worthy of mocking. But he did. And it was. 



He whispered in my ear, "this is what you look like when you do your silent laugh." I watched him close his eyes, throw his head back so that it touched the back of the pew, open his mouth as wide as it would go as if he were catching flies, and not make a sound.

That was it. He nailed it. He accomplished his mission. He knew the exact string to pull. 

For some reason, in a setting where you are told to be composed, quiet and focused, a very simple poke at ones character becomes a gut-busting witticism. 

Oh yes, it happened. An uncontrollable, spit spraying, snot-out-the-nose kind-of laugh, came spewing out of my mouth. I tried desperately to hold it in, but it only made it that much worse as it was coming out. 

I quickly began to think of bad things. Terrible things. Things that would make me cry. Anything that would suppress the desire to continue to make a fool out of myself either by continuing to laugh uncontrollably, or by running out of the sanctuary like wild hyena. 

Either way, he was in trouble. 

I wouldn't be surprised if we loose our privilege to sit next to each other.  I wouldn't be surprised if one day we are asked to separate. During church.

Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.  ~Kurt Vonnegut