Fire Fighter

Every once in a while, I get little glimpses into who I really am through situations that arise and how I react to them. Like this for example.

The most recent of these revelations was last Saturday when I went to Easter Vigil mass with my parents. The mass was broken up into stages, apparently with themes. The first was light. They gave everyone candlesticks stuck through holes in the bottom of a plastic cup with the top of the candle a few inches above the rim of the cup.

So once the priest and co. started walking down the aisle they lit people's candles and and then everyone lit the candles of those around them, even the small children with poor hand eye coordination; I did not take a candle.

They dimmed the lights that the church was filled with the soft glow of hundreds of candles throughout the opening songs and prayers. Sounds nice, right? However, my reaction to all this was to huff and cluck my tongue indignantly, leaning over to my dad saying "Well, this is just an accident waiting to happen." Then over to my mom, "Who decided this was a good idea?" Then to myself, "Seriously, they're letting children handle open flames in a room where people are packed like sardines, this is ridiculous."

I paid no attention to anything having to do with the ceremony or holiday; I was too preoccupied with looking around to see who's hair would catch on fire first and doing what I could to make sure it wasn't mine.

I didn't sit down, or even relax my shoulders until I was sure the three little girls in the pew behind me had completely extinguished their flames and given the wax time to cool.

I'm sure it was a very nice effect for those who appreciated it, but I can't help but think that God would see it my way.