My friends who know me best might disagree; seeing as they've seen me at my hangriest, that's probably fair. I'm a walking Snickers commercial.
Anyway.
When I started working at the church in which I currently serve, I worked really hard to have that "consistency of character." I wanted to be sure that I was (relatively) transparent, and that people were able to see that I am 100% pastor and also 100% human. To me, this means silly stories, random dance parties, constant encouragement, and usually complaining about my pants being too tight. Of course, it takes some time to break into the system of a new church. There are a lot of relationships that have to be tended to before you become "one of them" instead of "the new girl."
One day about a month after I began work at this church (and while I was still the new girl), the weather turned really ugly. My boss recommended that we just stay in the safe parts of the office until it passed. The rain was coming in sideways, the thunder was like putting your head between two roaring timpani, and the lightning made you sure that you were going to be struck next. When the tornado warnings starting rolling in, that's when people started calling.
"Oh hey (insert name of family member or friend here). Yes, I'm at work. Yes, the weather is pretty ugly. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'll keep you posted."
Eventually, those calls got boring. As a self proclaimed life-shaker-upper, I started getting silly with my responses.
As several members of the church staff sat in the front office, we all continued to answer our phones, to check the forecast, and to nervously laugh with each other about the fact that we were supposed to be closed 20 minutes before.
When one of my friends called while we were all sitting together, and shortly after I attempted to run to my car to get my rain boots (yes, I know they don't help me if they are in the car. Yes, I learned this the hard way), I answered in pretty typical fashion.
Me: Hiya! What's up?
Them: Hey! Are you okay! I saw the weather reports and it says that it's really bad out there. How are you?!
Me: Oh, you know, we are just living the dream out here! It's a wet dream, but it's great!
Silence.
I, Jenna Morrison, the new Associate Pastor, just told a person on the phone that we were living the wet dream in front of my staff.
Mortified.
Distraught.
Embarrassed.
Afraid.
These were all the emotions I experienced as my eyes darted around the room; no one said a word.
They just stared.
And stared.
And stared.
I nervously scanned the room, certain that I was about to lose my job.
For about two seconds (I mean, it felt like two years, y'all).
And then it happened.
She laughed.
Not just a chuckle, but a guffaw. A belly laugh. A laugh that spread like wildfire around the room.
I hung up the phone as the tears started flowing.
Like the rain, of course.
I don't want to take all the credit, but the weather lightened up shortly after that.
You're welcome.
