Juxtaposed

Two weeks ago I took Stella to the library in the middle of Mass. She gets a little rowdy in the narthex, as if "I can run around here" translates into "I must run around here" in her little brain, but she's usually pretty quiet in the library. The church's sound system is piped in, so I was able to hear the progression of the liturgy of the Eucharist.

We were at the Consecration when someone came into the bathroom, right next to the library, and relieved himself audibly and copiously. From the speakers I heard our pastor saying, "This is my body"; simultaneously, through the wall, I heard a body saying, "Hey, I'm a body!" And I thought, a little indignantly, "Excuse me, I am trying to PAY ATTENTION to the Mass here!"

Then I realized how often that scene plays out. As I navigate the world I can focus on the miracle of an immanent God, out of sight but always present, or I can focus on the crap that's closer at hand. I can get miffed enough about the crap that I disregard the miracle.

But that's always a bad idea.