Burning in the Pool of Love
I went to college for Advertising and Public Relations. A requirement was Speech class.
We gave a lot of speeches, mine usually were critiqued by my professor as being very "tongue in cheek." Sad to say, I had to ask her what she meant by that... She replied that maybe I should go into comedy instead. (Way to start my Advertising/Public Relations career off with a bang...not.)
One day our professor informed us we were to critique a speech in public. We had two weeks to complete this assignment. This was to be a major portion of our final mark.
The problem: there was a serious lack of public speakers in our area at that time.
So, I came up with a "brilliant" solution. I decided to ask my Grandma if I could go to church with her, then I could critique one of the speakers there.
Oh, it sounded like SUCH a good idea...
My Grandma was SO happy! She attended a church where they start bright and early (have to have Bible Study first, I guess not EVERYONE gets that day of rest on the seventh day).
I sat and listened to the speakers - and it was NOTHING like what I expected.
I thought it would be one person giving a sermon...but nooo. There were many "brothers and sisters" - and it was PAINFUL. I felt so GUILTY (I'm sure it didn't help that God was watching). These were young teenagers stuttering out their sermons (they were trying SO HARD!) and I'm filing it away in my mind (picture my horns growing here), knowing that I am NEVER going to tell my Grandma why I'm here...EVER. Or God will get me.
Hours pass - literally. My bum is numb when we finally get to stand up. I'm all - YAY! It's over! But, no... My Grandma leads me away to something called Relief Society (like a ladies league).
Many ladies are gathered in this room, lined up on chairs to listen to one lady talk. The topic of this talk was how we were all connected in the "Pool of Love."
Then the speaker passed around a bottle of hand lotion.
"Each person will rub a tiny bit of lotion onto the hand of the person next to you to represent how we are all connected in the Pool of Love," she says.
I admit, my mind is drifting by now. It's been a long morning, I'm hungry...and I kind of wish there was lunch served on the deck by the Pool of Love. So, I'm not paying the BEST of attention.
The lotion bottle reaches my Grandma and I can smell its perfume. She starts rubbing a tiny bit onto my hand and I can feel it start to...burn. She's gazing lovingly at me with shining eyes, so happy - as my flesh is starting to melt off my hand.
I'm on FIRE in the Pool of Love and I'm terrified to say anything in case I get cast as a heathen and burnt at the stake!
I smile back at my Grandma, with tears in my eyes. It's a touching moment for her - and I'm trying desperately not to bolt to the bathroom to wash The Love off my hand.
I survive - not only through Relief Society (ironically with no relief) - but the gauntlet of visitors following (who also blocked the bathroom access). And my hand now has a red hole growing in it.
Grandma and I make the drive home and I have NEVER been so grateful that she drives 30 km over the speed limit before IN MY LIFE. I bolt from her truck, race to the house and SLAM into the bathroom.
"How'd it go?" asks my Mom.
"It was lovely," says Grandma enthusiastically.
I get out of the bathroom after GENTLY rinsing my hand. My mom looks at it and asks what happened to it.
"I don't think I belong in the Pool of Love."
*I did get an awesome grade...