This morning in worship I started to notice tiny bits of white falling past me. Most odd. One came by every maybe 20 seconds or so, and then occasionally a group of three or four at a time.
Tiny.
Random.
And white.
I ran possibilities through my mind. Not snow. We were inside and the day warm and the building tight. Not dandruff, they were falling straight down from above. Was the guy behind me launching some sort of fine cracker crumbs aloft? Or was the sky falling, I wondered, feeling a bit like Chicken Little?
I picked up a tiny crumb and put it on a sheet of note paper and wrote a note to Devastatingly Handsome and passed it down, "Some tiny crumbs keep falling down on me." He read it, motioned at the crumb, and gave me the "you are insane" look.
And still they continued to fall.
Mr Music told me there was a ladybug crawling on the ceiling. Apparently the painter used the same paint right across the acoustic ceiling tile and the metal support and the paint does not really adhere to the metal. So, if something as rough and tumble as a ladybug crawls across it, it flakes down on the congregants in tiny bits.
Mystery solved.
Good thing I am not a Scottish poet or I would be writing an ode: To A Ladybug. Because I am easily distracted like that in church (actually, at all times). (apologies for the formatting. Blogger and I are not getting along today. And it is not worth, it, anyhow, just a ramble...)
O Jenny do not toss your head, O congregants, do not fear above
And set your beauties all abroad! Nor gather plaster in your eyes!You little know what cursed speed You little know what crumbs of paint
The bugger's making! The ladybugs drop down!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread, Those crumbs and tidbits, I dread,
Are notice taking! And try not to notice!
O would some Power the good Lord give us Oh would some Power the good Lord give us
To see ourselves as others see us! To pay attention as the sky falls!
It would from many a blunder free us, It would from many a dropping spare us,
And foolish notion: And foolish notion:
What airs in dress and gait would leave us, What airs in spots and six small legs,
And even devotion! Spoil my attention!
Tiny.
Random.
And white.
I ran possibilities through my mind. Not snow. We were inside and the day warm and the building tight. Not dandruff, they were falling straight down from above. Was the guy behind me launching some sort of fine cracker crumbs aloft? Or was the sky falling, I wondered, feeling a bit like Chicken Little?
I picked up a tiny crumb and put it on a sheet of note paper and wrote a note to Devastatingly Handsome and passed it down, "Some tiny crumbs keep falling down on me." He read it, motioned at the crumb, and gave me the "you are insane" look.
And still they continued to fall.
Mr Music told me there was a ladybug crawling on the ceiling. Apparently the painter used the same paint right across the acoustic ceiling tile and the metal support and the paint does not really adhere to the metal. So, if something as rough and tumble as a ladybug crawls across it, it flakes down on the congregants in tiny bits.
Mystery solved.
Good thing I am not a Scottish poet or I would be writing an ode: To A Ladybug. Because I am easily distracted like that in church (actually, at all times). (apologies for the formatting. Blogger and I are not getting along today. And it is not worth, it, anyhow, just a ramble...)
O Jenny do not toss your head, O congregants, do not fear above
And set your beauties all abroad! Nor gather plaster in your eyes!You little know what cursed speed You little know what crumbs of paint
The bugger's making! The ladybugs drop down!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread, Those crumbs and tidbits, I dread,
Are notice taking! And try not to notice!
O would some Power the good Lord give us Oh would some Power the good Lord give us
To see ourselves as others see us! To pay attention as the sky falls!
It would from many a blunder free us, It would from many a dropping spare us,
And foolish notion: And foolish notion:
What airs in dress and gait would leave us, What airs in spots and six small legs,
And even devotion! Spoil my attention!
This reminds me of a time many years ago when Hubby and I were waiting for a wedding to start. A dandelion puff slowly floated down from somewhere and a group of us watched it land on the shoulder of a fellow in front of me. I knew the fellow and told him that it probably meant that he was supposed to be next in line to get married.
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