Fearing the Offering Plate

March 3, 2009 at 10:34 am 14 comments

As children we are fed many bits of information. Some true. Some not so true. Some bits of information are omitted completely. If we fall asleep with gum in our mouths, will we really get gum in our hair? What if we swallow it? Will it be stuck in our system for 7 years? Should we even chew it to begin with or will it rot our teeth? And now, as an adult, how do you feel about this? Obviously we don’t go to sleep with gum in our mouths and I’d hope that most of you don’t make a habit out of swallowing gum. But there are many bits of information (or lack thereof) that effect us.

 

Just the other night I was playing Chipmunk Chase during therapy. It’s actually a creepy looking game. There are these three giant chipmunks that run out and open a scroll. On the scroll is either an E or an arrow. Whichever direction it is facing, I have to push the corresponding arrow. Then the chipmunk will run away, leaving a nut behind. Most of the nuts were pretty standard looking nuts. Then there was this metal thing. And one night I was like, “Ah ha! I get it! Nuts and bolts! That’s a bolt!” I gave myself a little “hip hip hooray” for being so clever. When I was playing the other night Stephen came in to check on me. He looked at the screen and was like, “Ha! Clever. Nuts.” Trying to maintain my concentration, I scowled and said, “What? I thought those were bolts. Like nuts and bolts, you know?” You know, like maybe I can convince him that I actually know the difference between a nut and a bolt… “Um no Chelsea. Those are nuts. Not bolts.” Oops.

 

This is only the beginning. I have many stories that make me question how I ever got a sane man to agree to marry me. The sad part is how these effect you for the rest of your life. Examples following:

 

-I can remember the first time I saw Catch Me If You Can. Remember the part when Leonardo DiCaprio is pretending to be a doctor? One of the other doctors says something and asks, “Well, do you concur?” And Leo replies, “I concur.” Now I wasn’t that young when this movie came out. But I had no idea what “concur” meant. By context clues I knew it meant either “understand” or “agree”…. to this day, I can never remember which one. I never use the word. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t either. Once the word comes out of your mouth, I no longer pay attention to what you’re saying. I just try to figure out if you’re meaning to agree or understand.

 

-My dad keeps this silver radio in the bathroom by his sink. Every morning he turns it on as he’s shaving and getting ready. I hate this radio. Actually, I loathe this radio. One time when I was little, I was taking a shower in their bathroom. I had to have been only about 6 because we had a babysitter and she was in the bathroom with me. When I was drying off she had to run into the other room for something and said, “Okay, I’ll be right back. DO NOT touch that radio or it will electrocute you.” I still have not touched it.

 

-I was born and raised in a good church-going family. Every Sunday when I was little, I’d get dressed up in a nice dress, socks with ruffles, and shoes that were uncomfortable. Then I’d go to church and since quietly in the pew with my family. Every week they’d pass the offering plate and every week I’d watch it go by. At one point in my childhood, my mom told me that I can’t touch it because if I do, everything will fly out. Obviously she meant that the plate was heavy and since I was small, it would be hard for me to hold it. And she was right, there was a great chance that I would drop it. However, I did not see it that way. I thought that if I touched it, everything would literally fly out of the plate as if I’d turned on an enormous fan underneath the plate. I realized how much this effected me two weeks ago when Stephen got mad at how quickly I grabbed the offering plate out of his hands. He wasn’t even holding the rim! He had his hand on the bottom. That plate could teeter over any second, leaving envelopes, cards, and coins all over the place. In my mind, I’m just trying to prevent a catastrophe. In all actuality, I have a deep rooted fear of the offering plate. I was just trying to save my wonderful husband from falling victim to it’s tricky ways.

 

I recently told my parents about my fear of the radio. They had no idea. I will take this bit of wisdom into parenthood. I will do my best to not say blanket statements that may scar my children for the rest of their lives. But I will never, ever let them touch their grandpa’s silver radio.

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Entry filed under: Chelsea, Family, Stephen. Tags: , , .

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14 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Dad  |  March 3, 2009 at 10:51 am

    I concur that offering plates sometimes explode, but I don’t concur that my radio is a terrorist.

    Dad

  • 2. Lindsay  |  March 3, 2009 at 10:51 am

    1. I love that radio. I’ve touched it many times when my hands were soaking wet and it has yet to electrocute me. And..I can always get it perfectly back to the station that Dad listens to when I’m done..
    2. One of my biggest fears is dropping the offering plate..I can’t even fathom how awful that would be.

  • 3. Mom  |  March 3, 2009 at 11:08 am

    Who WAS that babysitter?? I LOVE her!! Keeping my daughter safe at ALL COSTS! And you not letting your children touch their “grandpa’s” radio?? Are you trying to tell us something? And WHO decided he would be called “grandpa”??? I do not concur that he will necessarily be called “grandpa”! 🙂

  • 4. Chelsea Hurst  |  March 3, 2009 at 11:15 am

    Oh my gosh. Those comments are hilarious.

    Mom, yes, I’m telling you that we WILL have kids sometime. And dad WILL be a grandpa (whether he goes by that name or not). And, knowing him, he WILL still have that radio. And my kids WILL NOT be able to touch it, because it WILL electrocute them.

    Lindsay you are a risk taker and I don’t agree with your behavior!

  • 5. Lindsay  |  March 3, 2009 at 11:17 am

    I live life on the wild side.

  • 6. Justin  |  March 3, 2009 at 12:00 pm

    That radio killed my brother….I concurred.

  • 7. Lyndsey  |  March 3, 2009 at 12:31 pm

    I really like the word concur. I use it frequently. The other word I use frequently is “dumb.” Everything is dumb. And I say the word a twinge of a texas accent. It makes me think of your post about getting less and less smart after college.

  • 8. Matt  |  March 3, 2009 at 1:34 pm

    Concur. I tried to come up with a more creative way to use it, but was discouraged by everyone else who had already used it for humorous purposes.

  • 9. Jimbo  |  March 3, 2009 at 3:53 pm

    “The other word I use frequently is “dumb.” Everything is dumb. And I say the word a twinge of a texas accent.”

    I had a teacher in 11th grade who said that this was one of her pet peeves. Unless you are using dumb in the context of not being able to speak, she said that we should use stupid, ignorant, or another term but not to say “dumb.” That haunts me to this day.

  • 10. Big W-D  |  March 4, 2009 at 9:35 pm

    Don’t go to sleep while chewing gum. My cousin Steve did when he was 8. He was chewing half a pack of Big League Chew and didn’t want to spit it out. Anyway, long story short… Steve had very short hair that summer.

  • 11. The Husband  |  March 5, 2009 at 1:15 pm

    so… I think after these comments, I’m going to have to remember to take my kids to the side to set things straight.

  • 12. Tina  |  March 5, 2009 at 6:42 pm

    Alice! It’s been too long since you’ve had a six-year-old. I read this story in horror. What was going on with this babysitter that 1. She had Chelsea showering in the parents’ bathroom? 2. She hadn’t thought to BRING A TOWEL? and 3. She planned on leaving a soaking wet six-year-old on a slippery floor long enough that six-year-old could be fiddling with a radio?
    AND this babysitter gave Chelsea an unhealthy life-long fear.
    I think CPS would concur with me. =)

  • 13. Tina  |  March 5, 2009 at 6:45 pm

    Okay, I just re-read and noticed it wasn’t a towel she had to go get. But then what? I can’t imagine what was so important in the other room.

  • 14. 100th Post « Roots and Rings  |  May 26, 2009 at 9:16 am

    […] Fearing the Offering Plate […]

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