Today we’re sitting in a waiting room, waiting. Every few minutes someone’s cell phone rings. That reminds me of being in church one Sunday morning a couple of years ago, hearing a cell phone ring.
There are times in a service that nobody would hear a phone go off, like during a particularly loud and familiar hymn. There are other times everyone can hear, even that old guy with a turned-off hearing aid. This was one of those times. Nobody was talking, the organ was playing softly. Deep in prayer towards the end of the service.
RING! I don’t recall the ring tone, but it was one of the brand rings. What’s the number of rings before it goes to voice mail? It rang one time less than that. Eternity in church feels like a long time. All through the ringing you can hear fumbling. Digging. The phone was at the bottom of a very deep purse.
Finally she found the phone. Foolishly, I thought she’d just silence the ringer and call it good. I’d be wrong. That’s when I learned more about the phone’s owner. An old lady’s voice loudly said “Hello!” This is just a guess, but she probably had or should have had a hearing aid.
That’s not enough! It was a brief discussion, that ended quickly with “I can’t talk now, I’m in church.”