We're having revival meetings at church. I went tonight. I don't really care for the preaching. It's a visiting evangelist. Even his voice I find grating. I prefer a black evangelist to a white one who tries to sound black. Luckily, I took two Excedrin before I went. I admit, he's highly successful in his ministry for impoverished children in other countries. The world needs people like him. But I don't like feeling like I'm being herded in church. Tonight I got a nutshell of useful preaching, but it was mostly a small torture. Also, the fan overhead made me cold. I moved. I moved to where a guy behind me spoke quietly, but loud enough for me to hear, in tongues half the time and crumpled candy wrappers a quarter of the time, and chewed hard candies up one eighth of the time. He's a super nice guy so I didn't move for fear I might hurt his feelings. It was driving me insane, but as my husband says, the ticking of the grandfather clock can do that to me too.
I'll probably go again tomorrow night. My husband who can't understand why, says, "Why are you going again?" Because all the things we remember him doing last year, things we dreaded, he did again this year. I don't know why, but I'll probably go again. I'm not inviting my friend though because she'd probably never come to church again. lol.
I wore my hair in a side braid pulled to the front.