It upsets people when I find levity in the inappropriate. When I find animal pleasures hilarious folks wish they could just make me disappear.
But I CAN’T HELP IT!
In The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis compares humans to dogs. He writes that God views us like puppies that need to be trained into submission and good behavior. He says dogs are ALMOST lovable. With a good, firm hand from a loving master they can become respectable, loyal and happy companions.
Here. Here, Mr. Lewis.
I AM A DOG! I am a dog in training. RUFF! (If I could have my druthers I would be a fancy, expensive, lean dog like a Great Dane… I’d prefer to not be a Hotdog Dog or a Yorkie .)
I was once at the grocery store and ran into a man of authority in my church. We got to talking.
He said, “I know your uncle, Deloy. His brother, DICK, was a good friend of mine.”
My eyes widened.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no!!! I could feel it coming and it couldn’t be stopped.
I began to giggle like an IDIOT in a psych ward wearing one of those blue gowns that exposes the entire rear.
“DICK?” I asked as I tried DESPERATLY not to laugh TOO uncontrollably. I thought I might hyperventilate with the extreme effort expended in not laughing.
I admit it was beyond immature behavior on my part.
He remained very calm and looked at me with loving concern and disappointment.
“Yes,” he said. “Dick and I went to school together.”
HE SAID IT AGAIN! I thought aghast.
IS HE DOING IT ON PURPOSE?? I asked myself.
DOESN’T HE KNOW I CAN’T BE TRUSTED TO MAINTAIN A SERIOUS CONVERSATION REGARDING OLD SCHOOL CHUMS BY THE NAME OF DICK??
COULDN’T HE HAVE SAID RICHARD, FOR PETE’S SAKE?!
I couldn’t pull it together. I just couldn’t. It was simply too ironic for an important, spiritual member of my Ward to be asking about DICK!
I’m sorry!
Actually, I’m NOT sorry. I suppose I WISH I were sorry.
People who know me well know I struggle to keep my head above gutter level. Given my religion and the folks that generally surround me I feel I’ve been dealt a tough card given my tendency to find filth amusing.
I battle it CONSTANTLY.
I try to sing little church songs in my head to clear the wicked thoughts away.
You think I’m kidding. Would that I were!
When I write posts that are a bit edgey , like this one, my whole world seems to go up in flames. Many of my family members and Mormon Moms the World Over want it to STOP.
Everyone wants a Crystal that makes people feel cozy and safe. Stories about DICK make people feel upset and out-of-control.
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, CRYS!
I’m really not sure what to do about it.
I TRY SO HARD to behave myself. I really do!
I am literally TERRIFIED when I go to my book groups of what idiocies might emerge from my lips.
I try hard to NOT laugh when people talk about boobs, butts, sexual mishaps and uvulas (which sounds naughty but isn‘t). I’m SUPPOSED to have this in check, right?
When I am in a group of wholesome Mormon Moms I feel judged. But often, I realize, they are not doing the judging.
I am judging and berating MYSELF for not thinking like they do. For not being more calm and clean from the inside out.
I wonder WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
I do the stuff I’m told will create the perfect saint. I go to church, read my scriptures daily, pray constantly and make sure to be a do-gooder whenever the opportunity presents itself.
How do I deal with the fact I am expected to fold my hands neatly in my lap and NOT think the word BALLS is funny? Because to me BALLS IS FUNNY!
I’m guessing God isn’t done training me yet. I’m a diamond in the rough. I’ll be brilliant and valuable when He’s done with me.
I’m a rebellious puppy in training. I’m still chewing up His favorite slippers and pissing on the rug.
A few more painful and jarring newspaper whacks to the head and maybe I’ll finally be lovable.
Woof.
