The other day, while I was watching the Bengals self destruct, I kept hearing a noise. I thought it was coming from outside of my house. When I’d mute the television, I wouldn’t hear it. Intermittently the noise would reappear and I’d mute the set. Eventually, I figured that the sound wasn’t coming from outside, but inside, and just not inside of the house, but inside of me. It was the growling and gurgling inside of my intestines. There was no feeling of the rumblings; just the noise and I didn’t associate the noise to me.
That started me down another memory lane. One Sunday when the kids were still at home, we took them to church. Three kids divided by two parents usually don’t cause a problem, but for some reason, they were doing their best to cause trouble. They were doing nothing bad, but mischievous. My wife Cindy had just scolded them about talking and disrupting the service with their antics. She had just shushed them for about the third time when her stomach made a loud, whining, growling sound that could be heard several pews away.
Of course, this made the kids snicker and squirm. While she tried to compose herself, I shushed the kids, having to turn my head occasionally not to let them see that I was on the verge of snickering too. Each and every time, I thought the kids were settled, Cindy would start to smile and I’d have t turn away to keep from laughing myself. Occasionally, I’d hear her snort to cover a snicker and she’d bounce with silent laughter, hearing herself snort and that would set the kids off, snickering. For about ten to fifteen minutes, I felt like a fireman putting out small fires to prevent a complete conflagration from erupting and disrupting the service. I can’t remember the message that the Pastor preached on, but the service was definitely memorable.