After being chronic visitors to a church we really like, we finally moved our membership there. Seriously, we've been visiting for a dozen years, and even stayed after the founding preacher moved on to another position. The current pastor has been there about a year, so we actually have more history with the church than he does.
That didn't stop the welcoming committee from recently inviting us to a gathering of new church members. So, Karl and I went to the party, and Dair went along. After spending a good deal of time eating snacks and chatting, we were all asked to sit in a large circle and briefly introduce ourselves, sharing a bit about our church background. The second person to speak was a lovely lady from Africa who has a very heavy accent. She's from a part of Africa that has seen a lot of strife, and her story, though interesting, was a bit long, and her accent made it difficult to make out every word. After a few minutes of this, Dair muttered quite loudly, and a bit angrily, "Cut it to five [minutes]."
Sure, it was what every person in the room was thinking, but did she have to say it out loud?
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