LJ Idol Week 1: When You Pray, Move Your Feet
I want to talk to you guys about a growing concern in today's society: leg shakers.
You know who I'm talking about: people who appear to be constantly pumped up in low key situations, shaking their legs up and down in a constant drive like a damn jackhammer. Shake. Shake. Shake. Up. Down. Up. Down.
We all know one. The lady you work with, the guy next to you in class, maybe your husband, or wife...
People who need just one less sugar in the coffee, or no more energy shots before 5 in the morning.
My fiance is one. And at first, I didn't notice. They say love is blind...
Now love seems irritating.
And it happened in church. That's where I first noticed.
Ironically our pastor was talking about patience. "The Lord has patience in us all." He rambled on and on about how we must all have patience with God, with our loved ones, and with ourselves.
And then something caught my eye:
Conor's leg.
The sight of the up and down motion brought the sound to my ears. That tap tap tap tap...
I said nothing and bowed my head to pray. But all I could hear was that awful tap. So I sighed and tried to relax.
Patience...
Tap.
Patience...
Tap.
Patience...
TAP.
"Honey." I whispered, but he didn't hear me. He just kept tapping away, as if to tap through the damn floor and into the fire of hell. As if to personally inflict paranoia upon me, to say, "I want you to feel tortured. THIS IS FOR MAKING ME COME HERE."
As if to say he'd rather be home watching football. WELL SO WOULD I.
Anger lept up into my chest like the sparks of a flame. It tasted so bitter. How could he be so awful, and torture me for being here? How could he be so cruel?
TAP TAP TAP...
ENOUGH.
I'm not one for words, so I kicked him as hard as I could in the leg. To my surprise, he let out a loud shout, turned to me, and yelled, "FUCK! Damn it, what are you trying to do to me?"
Everyone turned and stared at us. I could feel my face burning.
And so I got up to leave.
In the parking lot I turned on him, saying, "You and your leg need to keep still! I couldn't hear anything that was said! You're terrible!"
He got in the truck and slammed the door. As I got in, I heard him say, "Least I get to see the game now."
And he started in with his left leg. Up down, up down...
Needless to say, I leave him home now on Sundays. I like my prayers silent and STILL.
You know who I'm talking about: people who appear to be constantly pumped up in low key situations, shaking their legs up and down in a constant drive like a damn jackhammer. Shake. Shake. Shake. Up. Down. Up. Down.
We all know one. The lady you work with, the guy next to you in class, maybe your husband, or wife...
People who need just one less sugar in the coffee, or no more energy shots before 5 in the morning.
My fiance is one. And at first, I didn't notice. They say love is blind...
Now love seems irritating.
And it happened in church. That's where I first noticed.
Ironically our pastor was talking about patience. "The Lord has patience in us all." He rambled on and on about how we must all have patience with God, with our loved ones, and with ourselves.
And then something caught my eye:
Conor's leg.
The sight of the up and down motion brought the sound to my ears. That tap tap tap tap...
I said nothing and bowed my head to pray. But all I could hear was that awful tap. So I sighed and tried to relax.
Patience...
Tap.
Patience...
Tap.
Patience...
TAP.
"Honey." I whispered, but he didn't hear me. He just kept tapping away, as if to tap through the damn floor and into the fire of hell. As if to personally inflict paranoia upon me, to say, "I want you to feel tortured. THIS IS FOR MAKING ME COME HERE."
As if to say he'd rather be home watching football. WELL SO WOULD I.
Anger lept up into my chest like the sparks of a flame. It tasted so bitter. How could he be so awful, and torture me for being here? How could he be so cruel?
TAP TAP TAP...
ENOUGH.
I'm not one for words, so I kicked him as hard as I could in the leg. To my surprise, he let out a loud shout, turned to me, and yelled, "FUCK! Damn it, what are you trying to do to me?"
Everyone turned and stared at us. I could feel my face burning.
And so I got up to leave.
In the parking lot I turned on him, saying, "You and your leg need to keep still! I couldn't hear anything that was said! You're terrible!"
He got in the truck and slammed the door. As I got in, I heard him say, "Least I get to see the game now."
And he started in with his left leg. Up down, up down...
Needless to say, I leave him home now on Sundays. I like my prayers silent and STILL.