I found myself gingerly descending the steps with Carl to enter the Church. Beats me what Church it was. The sight made me dizzy so I went to the right side and held on to the walls. I was NEVER the kind to experience this. But then again, I was seated next to Carl in a ferry bound to Benoni Port in Camiguin when I experienced sea sickeness the first time. Yes, I’m connecting the dots.
The Mass had begun before we got in. The seats facing the altar were already jampacked; we had no choice but to sit outside. I found a woman dressed in t-shirt and jeans inside who took the liberty to walk around, direct latecomers to the available seats and call your attention if you’re behaving inappropriately. In spite of being accustomed to women dressed in uniforms (like Catholic Women’s League, my mother’s group) while performing tasks in the Church, I didn’t question her authority nor dismiss her as an epal. My mind was totally blank. I was NOT even initiating a conversation with Carl. Never did I reach for my cellphone either.
I believe she snarled at people having small talk during the Homily (something I was guilty of when my family went to Antipolo to hear the Mass last Sunday). But she did not approach me when I started eating some sort of bread inside the premises. I never ignore my hunger pangs, remember? But…I don’t find that appropriate.