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My mother and I have a standing joke, or rather, a common topic of conversation. There is a group of small-in-stature, elderly-in-years women (aka “little old ladies” – tho the “ladies” part is debatable) that attends her church. It seems this group comes to church to socialize, somehow mistaking a church building with published hours of service, for a bus station or football stadium. In fact, it was a friend of my mother’s that provided the moniker. Sad to say, the Edmonds Group has a chapter at my church.

I’m not really complaining that their idiotic prattle, especially at a time when I am trying to get close to God, is somehow offensive; or that I am “holier than thou” (them?). For they are teaching me patience. You see, although the Church is very clear about the purpose of Mass (in a nutshell, to worship God), I go to Mass for penance. So, the Edmonds Group is really doing me a favor, because I have so much joy in my life, I need them to bring me down to the reality that life really does suck.

But, what I don’t understand is why they feel the need to flap their tongues (at all), let alone immediately before a religious service, while the very slow, like me, are trying to leave the worldly crap outside so I can concentrate on why it is I am there to begin with. Frankly, I never want to hear the chatter of the chattering class anyway (noise is simply that: noise – it is not music to my ears). But, to have to be subjected to their noise is so…infuriating. No, no, I take that back: it is not, it is liberating and rejuvenating and reassuring. Yeah, I don’t believe any of that, either.

And, don’t get me started on those that come in late and leave early. I don’t want to go there.

But, I will scratch my head at the usher who insisted on interrupting my praying (I was kneeling, with a rosary in my hands) to let some folks into the pew. Hey, they had two little kids – arriving just before the processional is perfectly understandable. Even when one of the little kids threw a fit just before the recessional and daddy took him/her out. I got no problem at all with little kids acting like litte kids, i.e., acting their age. I do have a problem, a really huge problem with adults acting like little kids.

I am starting to ramble, but I am desperate to end this on a positive note.

Oh, here we go: I am positive that I love the Mass. It’s just that I don’t love all the people who would rather be someplace else, and act that way. Wow! I did find some common ground with my fellow man (that would include the old-fashioned, sexist, “little old ladies”): I don’t want them at Mass, either!