speaking in tongues...
Ok. I'm back after what one sista in the members list has called my leave of abscence to be that of going awol. Lemme just hope I'm not going to be taken to task over that - sometimes, its refreshing to listen to what others have to contribute than my old self harping on about all sorts..
The mere mention of speaking in tongues breaks me out into a cold sweat and this is seriously no joke. I shall tell you more shortly but first allow me to put you through the wringer as to how I came to be on the verge of a cold sweat...
I'd planned to visit the museum with the gals a week back but deciding on which weekend to do it was fast proving to be like an obstacle course. Soon as I had it penned down, something or other crept up like that annoying finger avator telling me no/no - try again! The Friday prior to the planned event, I was telephoned by the Orthodontics giving me a ticking off cause ma daughter had yet again missed her appointment with them. They instead arranged it for Saturday morning as a special favour of course!!!! Seriously the sacrifices we make for our kids! Saturday was meant to facilitate me a lie-in before reality struck to rush off to stock up on household groceries. Plus I'd hoped to make it an early hit at the museum to avoid the crowds. Instead now I had to be legging it to the surgery waiting room to await whilst the orthodontic played elastic bands with ma daughter's teeth! The saga with the orthodontic is too far fetched to even go into right now - so I'm gonna skip it...bottom line ma daughter had her elastics put in pending her braces. Besides I rather get the feeling she'd not be very pleased with me to divulge all that took place.
We made our way over to the museum - spent what appeared to be ages walking around so much that my feet protested in a manner they are fast getting too comfortable with. In all, the day was enjoyable and as we trugged on back home, my comfort was that at least now entertaining the kids was over... little did I know... Isn't it wonderful to have large families whereupon you can congregate and compare notes? Well on this particular evening, finding a houseful of relatives was not exactly bringing me that warm glow... Plus there was that huge debate on mabira forest on one of the radio stations I'd started taking an interest listening to - well ma mom anyway does. They play music from way back that holds so much history and no doubt beautiful memories. Luckily, ma relatives had to rush off not before long so I was afforded that rest I so badly longed for so that come Sunday morning I could be refreshed and ready to present maself in church. I am trying my darnest to be spiritual you see...
Sunday morning greeted me with such warmth and beauty! The sun was up, everything looked so cheerful outside that I rushed to get ready in ma best wares to go claim my place in one of the chuch pews and immerse myself into the day's gospel. Unfortunately with the weather being so beautiful and warm, laziness also sets in that I found myself idly walking in late. There's something about wearing nice clothes and sandals with glasses shielding you from the world that causes me to just wander off into ma dream world whilst I walk that I forget the necessity of timekeeping... I found the congregation not too far gone in the service and brazenly marched to claim a seat near the front. This is so that I can see the projector with the lyrics of the songs - otherwise, I'd be just miming along... Everything was going along swimmingly well and I was enjoying the songs to the hilt joining in with the fervour of a new born that's just discovered they have lungs when the pause to welcome the gospel session commenced. It was going to be led by a Russian-British priest. See, I'm of the old school of christianity and usually a priest wearing a collar behaves the way I recall as a kid. Solemn and all serious with the occasional mimicking of an imaginary awesome all-being. He started off calmly asking us to stand and join him in prayers. Now I am normally ok with this - I just keep schtum while he does his bit and some others in the congregation who feel like sharing their prayers also say them in between pauses. Heck - I did that myself last week praying for wisdom for those in office in Uganda to do the right thing by the nation as opposed to their bellies - so here I was fine.
But oh NO, he had to go and say the dreaded request... "join me in prayers, those of you that can allow the spirit in your hearts to speak in tongues, you are encouraged to do so"... and I'm like hell NO!!!! I've seen too much of that stuff of persons praying in tongues to make me regress to ma childhood acting at school of spirit possessions - usually in tone with witchcraft... I simply do not like or feel comfortable with this new-age idea of combining faiths! I was relieved when this induced frenzy stopped, breathing a sigh of relief and questioning my sanity to have started attending church again. The priest went on to give his gospel on the genesis human imperfection. I actually liked his perspective on this albeit the graphics perhaps were OTT. Then just as he's coming to a close, a lady in the congregation stands up and requests we have a repeat dose of the prayer at the start of the gospel. I'm like WHERE IS THE EXIT? Some of those besides me must have sensed what I was planning. They'd all formed a formidable circle either side of me, preventing that idea from realisation.
Then an idea came to me. Since some of the congregation were high on speaking in tongues which perhaps only they could understand or not - could I start kuwemula in luganda because for sure nobody around me spoke nor understood luganda. Relax. I didn't give in to ma impulse to shock but meekly kept schtum, silently begging whichever spirit brought me to church to give me strength.