If you are a Mormon, then you are probably familiar with the woman-who-sings-too-loudly-in-church phenomenon. Every ward has one. You know, that lady who projects her voice so loudly that it drowns out the rest of the congregation. She is the one who feels like sacrament meeting is a time to brush up on her amateur soprano career.
Some people are able to tune out this squawking voice, but I cannot. My husband can, but I cannot. My favorite part of church is singing hymns---I love reading the lyrics and hearing the ward's voices blend together. Music touches my soul and I look forward to learning new songs or singing old favorites. But it's hard to get in touch with my soul when Sister G. bellows from the front pew and fills the room with her semi-off-key operatic performance.
Sister G. is my nemesis at church. She became my nemesis in Sunday School a few weeks ago when we were discussing the story of Jesus and the rich man. My husband offered his perspective on the story and everyone in the classroom nodded and hummed in agreement. But one person didn't like what she was hearing and shot her hand up in the air.
"Well, that's not what this story is really about. It's about this..." said Sister G.
Oh ho! If we were living in 18th century France, I would have spit on the ground and challenged her to a duel. But I didn't because spitting is rude and I forgot to bring my sword to church. (Ba-dum-ching)
There are other reasons why Sister G. has become my nemesis but I won't reveal them here because my guilty conscious is kicking in and I feel like I shouldn't say more negative things. (But not guilty enough to erase this blog. Thus I am evil.)
I know there will be those who will chide me to forgive and to love and to befriend. And indeed, I believe in all of these things. I will also be the first to admit that I can be a prideful and surly wench at times.
But have you heard the woman sing at church???
