finding a church horror story

Let me begin this by telling you that I have the worlds most patient boyfriend. He also wins the awards for most annoying and sexiest butt. For the sake of maintaining his privacy and because he doesn’t know I have this blog, we are going to call him Blue-eyes. I’m also notorious for doing weird and awkward things when I’m nervous.  This is a perfect example.

The main priority in our relationship is to put God first and we felt like we were being called to switch churches. It should be noted that I am a shy chatty Cathy and Blue-eyes is the outgoing silent type. Blue-eye’s had some friends who recommended a small Baptist church that wasn’t far from his house. We pulled into a tight parking spot in his gigantic pickup truck and walked to the front door. Already, we realized we were underdressed. Both wearing a red tee shirt and jeans (Not planned) We were not prepared for the below the knee dresses and the suits. NO ONE WARNED US. I looked at blue-eyes and smirked saying, “At least my pants are holy.” My nervous joke referring to my hipster jeans.  He smiled and opened the door for me leading me inside the church. I have a favorite pair of Birkenstock sandals that are falling apart. I really need to just punch new holes in the tops to make them tighter but I keep forgetting and they slide off of my feet. I tripped a little and blue eyes caught my elbow asking if I was ok. I nodded and we met up with friends. The service went well. It was a small church and we were introduced to the congregation. The pastor gave a nice sermon and added at the end, “All new visitors are encouraged to meet with me in the back during the prayer lead by Brother John.” Brother John stepped onto the stage and bowed his head and began to pray. I did not budge. Blue eyes looked at me and shrugged. I sighed and bowed my head. Thankful no one had their eyes open to see me chicken out on meeting the pastor. Or so I thought, when I heard the hiss from a pious church lady whisper, “You’re supposed to go meet the pastor now. ” I looked at Joe stood up to grab my purse and turned to walk out the aisle when I tripped over my shoe. I fell over spilling the contents of my bag and throwing the other shoe against the wall. It hit with a loud BANG! Brother John continued the prayer but peoples eyes opened. My boyfriend, patient, wonderful, and annoying,  stifled some giggles. (My manly man does in fact giggle.) My face could not have been redder. I could see pious-hissing-church-lady shake her head in disappointment out of the corner of my eye. I hurried through the door to go and greet the pastor. Blue eyes wrapped an arm around me, never once losing his cool and thankfully took the brunt of the chatting with the pastor. When we got back to the truck I closed the door and could not stop laughing!!

I still haven’t fixed my shoes.

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