bishop's wife

My sister that lives in Utah sent this to me. I hope it's because she thought I needed a laugh. Not because I can see myself walking into church holding a Diet Coke.

Soda-swilling bishop's wife is caught in act
By Ann Cannon

Published: Sunday, Aug. 16, 2009 5:03 p.m. MDT
Editor's note: Ann Cannon is on vacation. This is a reprint of a column that originally ran June 29, 2000.

My husband is the bishop of our LDS ward, which (technically speaking) makes me "The Bishop's Wife." Sort of like Whitney Houston before she started getting busted for possession at airports.

As far as I can tell, my husband is a pretty good bishop. I, on the other hand, kinda stink as a bishop's wife. I offer this factual story as evidence.

NOTE TO MY HUSBAND AND CHILDREN: PLEASE DO NOT READ THE PARTS OF THIS COLUMN THAT ARE IN ITALICS.

OK. I am not a good sitter. I can't even sit through a two-hour movie unless the male lead (a) looks like George Clooney or (b) is George Clooney. And after living with kids for the past 19 years, I don't have much of an attention-span left, either. These two facts combined, frankly, make three hours of church on Sunday a pretty rough go.

That's why I sometimes sneak home during the middle of meetings while you're all in class!
Anyway, I enjoy the experience of being at home by myself on a beautiful Sunday morning. It's quiet. It's peaceful, it's serene. It's everything church WOULD be if you didn't have to go there with your kids.

I turn on KBYU and listen to "St. Paul Sunday Morning." I read the Church News. I meditate.
Also, I open up the fridge and find a cold Dr Pepper that I've hidden from all of you! (Ha! Ha!)
So here's what happened not too long ago. I went home one Sunday morning, put up my feet, and opened a can of Dr Pepper.

Which, by the way, I didn't have to share with any of you! (She shoots! She scores!)

The only problem was that I didn't finish it before it was time to return to church. So I took my can of Dr Pepper with me, drove up to the church and sat in my car, where I finished drinking it.
Well, as I sat there in the church parking lot, sipping my Dr Pepper, I started to feel a little guilty, a little sleazy even. Somehow I couldn't quite see Mary Ann or Carolyn, the wives of our former bishops, hiding out in their cars during church like a bunch of AWOL deacons.

Suddenly, I was completely embarrassed for myself.

Just what was my problem, anyway?

That's when I decided I would be a GOOD bishop's wife, as opposed to a LOSER bishop's wife! From now on, baby! Right then and there! I'd do everything I was supposed to do! By the time I died, Mormons all over the world would be singing my praises, saying what a fine, nonsluffing bishop's wife I was! They might even give me a mention in the Church News!

I jumped out of my car and sprinted into the church like a pitcher to the mound, ready to put my new resolve into action. I strolled into the chapel, where I waved and smiled and shook hands with ward members all the way back to our pew.

It was only then I happened to notice (this is the truth) THAT I WAS STILL HOLDING MY CAN OF DR PEPPER!

OK. For those of you who haven't spent a lot of time in LDS chapels, I can totally promise you that you don't often find people taking little midmorning soda breaks there. Especially if you're the bishop's wife. In fact, if there were such a thing as a "Bishop's Wife's Handbook," it would probably have the following two rules.

RULE No. 1: Be good.

RULE No. 2: Don't go wandering around the chapel with a cold Dr Pepper can in your hand … duh … thereby alerting everybody that you have been sluffing instead of going to Sunday School again.

It's little experiences like these that have caused my family to lately call me names like"addict."

They keep trying to bet me that I can't stop drinking Dr Pepper.

Well, I can, you guys. Honest!

But come on now. Why in the world would I want to?