There I was, pontificating with the best of them; waxing eloquently before the kind people of Canyons Church, Salt Lake City. Then, all of a sudden, in the very midst of an incredible section of erudition, I totally (and I mean, totally) forgot where I was going with my story and, thus, the point of my sermon’s point went out the proverbial window. To quote the eminent lay theologian, Homer Simpson, “Doh!”
A little background to help you get the power of that homiletic moment. There I was recounting my recent experience of flying at 35,000 feet in an Embraer 175, describing to my spellbound parishioners my absolute fear of altitude (aka heights), when I realized that we had as our church’s guests this last Sunday, the Brazilian Bobsled Team. They were there for the Park City Bobsled North American Cup that is being held this week. And I wonderfully introduced them to the whole congregation, talked about their event, talked about their faith in Christ and “Doh!” Nothing. Absolute vacant brain moment.
I failed to tell you that I had already appraised the congregation of my previously bilateral hearing having under gone a transformation in said airplane, leaving me mono-hearing in only the left ear (you know that the word “left” in Italian is the word “sinistra” and the root of our word sinister). This did not bode well for me, being partially deaf at that moment. Since having gone brain dead right before the eyes of the whole congregation of God’s most blessed people, I did the only thing I could. I asked the church folk what I had been saying before I interrupted myself with my cordial presentation of our guests. Several people began to inform me what, I assume, I had been saying. The only problem was that I could not understand what they were saying. It all sounded like people yelling at me with mouths full of marbles.
It wasn’t until I saw at least one person gesturing with their hands from high to low, like an airplane landing, that I finally got it. Wow. Or to quote said theologian, “Doh!” I was talking about the Embraer 175 airplane that I had flown in. The Brazilian made Embraer 175 airplane.
Now you know the depth of my brain’s machinations; and the probable foreshadowing of old age memory in the ever increasing aging of the current writer.
All I can say is “Fluffy Duck.”