Stupid Things I Have Done, Part IX (Early Childhood Edition)

Too many of my bloggy buddies are suffering through various waits and difficult aftermaths, and I have become incredibly boring. But, friends, I assure you: It was not always so.

The following is a family story about me, something that happened when I was about two or three that I don't remember myself. First, you should know that I'm a third-generation PK (priest's kid), and no, I'm not talking about the Catholic Church. I'm talking a Baptist and two Episcopalians.

When my father was fresh out of seminary and starting his career in the church, he served as an assistant at my granddad's church in a certain city in the Southwest. I remember that church surprisingly well: it looked out across a highway at a drive-in, and you could watch the movies at night from the church parking lot. I also recall being amazed when I saw my first tarantula crawling through the playground.

One year, the church made the unusual decision to schedule a kids Halloween party and a special healing service at the same time. That year, I had departed from my previous Halloween choices (I think I was a pink ghost the year before) and decided to go as the devil. This being my granddad's church, I naturally felt very at home. The party was a bit dull, so I wandered off through the building until I came to the sanctuary.

There, my granddad was blessing the wine and bread for communion, facing the altar, with his back to the congregation. Thus he had no idea that I was striding confidently down the aisle. When I reached the front pew, I turned around, made my hands into little claws, and announced, "I'm the Debil!"

During the most sacred moment of the service, laughing is pretty much out of the question. But the congregants were stifling their guffaws as my granddad stood there, flabbergasted. Then, an older women stepped out, took me gently by the hand, and led me back to the party. She told my family later that she was thrilled to get to throw the devil out of church.