On waiting in the dentist's office...

I need to have my wisdom teeth removed. I have hopes that I do not lose what little wisdom I have gained in the few years I've been around. I don't understand why they are called wisdom teeth if they do not fit and must be removed. I try not to think about the surgery because it is just plain unpleasant.

While sitting in the dentist's office reading endless magazines and text messaging my husband ceaselessly, which probably annoyed the other waiters in the room, I overheard a conversation between a mother and son who were also waiting. The boy was a teen, I thought. He spoke in an annoyingly soft and feminie tone, waved his hands about as he spoke, and had silly piercings (such as a shiny stud in his nostril, one through his eyebrow, top of his ear, etc). I must note it was also obvious beneath his tight t-shirt that he had nipple piercings. He was reading through home design catalogs and loudly exclaiming over things that were "darling" and "precious". I immediately understood his sexual identity. There was no if, an, or but about it. He was talking loudly about his father in Alaska, who works for a transportation/tourism company. He talked proudly of his father, until his mother sputtered, "Alan, he's a lousy bus driver, for Chrissake." I cannot stand people taking the Lord's name in vain nonstop, but that's another story.

I didn't completely gather that the mother and father of Alan were divorced until Mom got up to give the receptionist her insurance card and then rifled through her purse to get another card, and said, again loud enough for even the guy in the back of the office getting his teeth ripped out of his skull to hear her (and this guy was unsconcious), "Here's my other card. Hopefully his father has some coverage on him still. He could help somehow!" She said this with obvious derision. Alan kept his mascara covered lashes lowered and became even more engrossed in his fashion magazine. Mom then announced his birthday, and he interjected, "Mom, I'm not 20, I'm 21." She rolled her eyes, "Oh, right. You were with him over that birthday."

They went on to discuss fashion, which the mother was obviously pleased to be able to discuss with anyone, even if it were her MALE child. She also pointed out in her loud and extravagant way how at least Alan had gotten that scholarship (how many other kid's mothers' had pushed them to get good grades so they could get a $5,000 scholarship??) to offset her expenses. Alan agreed with her heartily, while he was crawling around on the floor searching for the back to an earring for at least 15 minutes.

I have step children. I will never speak ill of their mother in public.

But that's not my point. I was observing Alan, and realizing I am only two years older than him.

I think something has been lost in our culture, something to do with the sanctity of human life. I see sanctity in the Church, and I see love, care, and humility in the Church. I see people bowing to their Lord and taking their places with gentle and quiet manners. I see holiness uplifted, and sin vanquished. I see humanity, in place of vanity.

My final thought in this post is this: I was thinking, rather terrified, that the young man in the dentist's office will probably grow up to be an Anglican priest.