Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Wrongful Punishment

    Growing up in Saginaw we attended a fairly large Catholic church.  There was an 8am Sunday service, 10am Sunday service and a noon Sunday service.  There was also a Saturday evening service too but we rarely attended that service.  Mostly we attended the noon service.  We never really did see the same people twice, it was that big.  The shape of St. Thomas Aquinas reminded of a Trivial Pursuit pie piece.  You walked in the wide end of the pie and the priest would give his sermons near the point of the pie.  We mostly sat near the left side towards the back, depending how late we were arriving to the service.  My mom enjoyed attending but for the three of her children that was another story. 

     Waking up Sunday morning we would drag our feet.  Marc and I would be watching a Sunday movie on TV.  Usually it was something with Jerry Lewis or Don Knotts in The Incredible Mr. Limpet.  Lisa would try to sleep in as much as possible claiming a bad headache when mom did try to wake her.  Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't.  If mom got a phone call we would be real quiet trying not to disturb her so she would loose track of time and talk her way through the time of getting ready.  We knew if she was on the phone by 11:30 we were in the free and clear of not going to church.  Marc and I would watch the huge wood and bronze colored star shaped clock above the TV and smile at each other when we realized the hands were pointing at 11:30 or later.  We sighed a relief and continued watching the movie with ease.  When mom finally did get off the phone and realized the time then she would give a huge sigh in disappointment.  Another failed attempt at church.

     Most of the time we did end up making it to church.  It wasn't that we didn't love God.  It was more of the service being the longest hour of our lives.  It dragged on and on.  We could tell what time it was from what action was being performed at church.  When the priest started to perform the Eucharist we knew the church was half way over.  We passed the time counting the unique brick structure that stood on each side of the alter, or counting how many people wore red or blue or black.  When we became bored at counting my sister, brother and I would turn our attention to each other for entertainment.  We would sit playing thumb wars with each other mouthing, "One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  I declare thumb war."  We would made shadow puppets with each other or we would give each other Indian burns.  That is where you put both hands on a person's arm between their wrist and elbow and twist in opposite directions really hard. 

     This one particular Sunday we were sitting on the right side of church near the middle.  We were young.  I was probably in kindergarten or first grade.  My siblings and I were not on our best behaviors and mom's patience's were wearing thin.  She bends over to us children and growls, "If one of you makes another peep I am taking you to the bathroom."  Going to the bathroom with mom only meant one thing....a spanking.

     The three of us stare forward trying to count whatever so we wouldn't get a spanking.  Marc, who was standing next to me, lifts up his foot and stomps right on my foot.  The hard bottoms of his shoes twists on my open skin from the sandals I was wearing.   It hurt!  I shouted out a yelp.  In a microsecond my mom grabs my upper arm and hauls me out of the church, into the lobby and over to the bathroom.  I was spanked....hard. 

     I cried.  I couldn't tell if I was crying because of the spanking or because of the injustice of the reason I was spanked.  I didn't do anything wrong.  I was just standing there being good when Marc stomped on my foot.  Did he get punished?  Nooooo.   It was easy to blame me since I was the one who let out a noise.  We return to our seats.  I was now sitting on the other side of mom, away from my siblings.  I bend over to look at them.  They were both snickering that I was punished unfairly.  Needless to say I wasn't happy with them. 

     We all jump to conclusions in life.  It can be easy to do.  This situation helped me realize to obtain all the facts when dealing with an issue.  Now that I have children I watch to make sure I don't do the same mistake and punish unfairly.  I am far from perfect and I am sure I have unknowingly done just that at times.  But at least I am aware of trying not to do jump to conclusions so quickly. 

    

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