It happened again tonight. My husband pulled up the car, I made sure all the children went out, I said goodnight to the brother I had been chatting with, and I attempted to leave the building. Nope. The beautiful, hardwood, glass-paneled, brass-handled, extremely heavy double doors stopped me cold.
It happens every meeting. I usually try to time my exits so that I am following other people out a door that they seem to effortlessly open. I gain some confidence from the ease of their egress and attempt to mimic it the next time--only to be left grunting and shoving, uselessly, sometimes tilted at an extreme diagonal, hoping that the laws of physics somehow apply to the situation. It's like getting trapped in purgatory: you've already left, but you can't reach the promised land. You can see your loved ones on the other side, but are powerless to reach them.
Tonight, I had a little epiphany--I am Inigo Montoya. If you've ever seen The Princess Bride you can picture it...Inigo chases his father's murderer, who runs into a room and slams the door. Inigo backs up, runs and jumps at the door over and over, all the while screaming, "Fezzik! He's getting away! Help me! Fezzik! I need you!" That's what I feel like trying to get out of church. Anyone got an extra Fezzik I can borrow?
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