Behind My Door: Had a bad day?

Part of the human condition is that an occasional bad day is to be expected. We might not like it, but when it happens, there it is.  

Too often we hear, “LIVE WITH IT!”  I’m sure my readers will agree that some bad days are impossible to live with.

Take, for instance, the Sunday I was in my assigned choir loft position, dutifully prepared to sing our lovely choral anthem, and wearing my silky maroon choir robe, which was draped on the floor around me. (The topic of those burdened with a short stature will be covered in a future column.)

When it was time to sing a solo, I rose from my seat and planned to walk past the altar to the other side where the piano was located. That was the plan. Hence, began the “plan detour:” 

To my chagrin, I had forgotten there was a step at the end of my row. Shocked, I suddenly found myself wobbling to gain balance, caught my right foot in my choir robe and careened into the altar, knocking over a tall gold candlestick.

Dredging up as much composure as possible, I began Journey #2 toward the piano. As I crossed over, I pasted on a fake smile and attempted to look as though the entire incident had been rehearsed. (That’s not easy when one is loudly wheezing and gasping for air.)

I stole a brief glance and became acutely aware that I was being watched by a congregation praying: “Thank you, Lord!  I’m so grateful that’s not me! Surely, it is a gift from my guardian angel!”

Unfortunately, this painful saga is not yet ended.

As I opened my choir folder, I spied my husband, Ralph, standing at the back of the sanctuary ready to take the offering. Stabbing at encouragement, he sent a pitiful smile my way. (Perhaps he was ruminating on a new church we could join.)

I began singing “Amazing Grace.” It was then that Ralph jammed his entire left hand into his mouth and fled.

Believing she might never see him again, the faithful Mrs. Agnes Tipperton catapulted from her pew, grabbed the collection plate and took over.

Mrs. Agnes Tipperton was right. She never did see Ralph again. Why? Because after that fateful Sunday, he made it a point to just drop me off. 

I had suggested he worship in costume. Then, whether he looked like Elvis or Captain Crunch, no one would know he was married to the Klutz of the World!

For more than 30 years, Fort Atkinson’s Sandra (Sandi) Bernhardt has enjoyed humorous public speaking in Wisconsin and beyond. During her career, she served as a human resources director, as well as a customer service consultant for a healthcare company. Active in the community, Sandy is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater and the mother of three grown sons.