When I was little – maybe 5 or 6 – I remember my mom getting really upset with me for rolling my eyes at her. (Are you surprised?)
I wanted so desperately to stop, to behave, to be good. But the thing was…I didn’t know what “rolling my eyes” was! And since I didn’t know what it meant to roll my eyes, I certainly didn’t know how to stop!
Fast forward a couple dozen years to, oh, tonight. At choir practice. In church.
We were practicing one of our very serious songs for Good Friday, and Brett, our choir director, was not happy with our tone. We were too bright, not singing tall enough. So he threatened – as he does from time to time – to make us stick three fingers in our mouth.
It’s not as weird as it sounds. It forces us to really open up and have a tall, mature sound.
He kept threatening, and we kept singing…poorly. And so he said, “Okay, that’s it. I’m not kidding. Do it.”
I felt it start, and I’m telling you, I couldn’t stop it. My eyes, they were a-rollin’!
You know, I’m a real sarcastic person. And I will confess to having the urge to roll my eyes often. I mean, we’re talking several times a day. I’m not proud of this, but I have – for the most part – learned to control it. My favorite eye-rolling-controlling trick is to simply close my eyes. Close my eyes, roll my eyes, then open again. See?
Actually, no you can’t see. And that’s the point.
I don’t know what happened tonight. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was feeling at home and comfortable sharing my true feelings. Maybe I have had a rough week and was slightly annoyed at the thought of sticking half my hand in my mouth.
Whatever the excuse, I did it. I totally rolled my eyes. At my choir director.
I’m sorry, Brett. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I hope you’ll still let me sing on Good Friday. I promise to open wide and sing tall. For realz.
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