Welcome to the 7:30 AM Mass, Father.
Little did this unsuspecting priest know about the first morning Mass on Sunday. Because people are just waking up, or because there is no music and that throws people off, or because God wants us to pay attention, crazy things happen:
Lectors read the correct Sunday in Ordinary Time, but the wrong year.
Mass celebrants knock consecrated hosts off the altar.
The entrance procession goes the wrong way.
Acolytes don't show up, drop the chalice, can't get the tops of the cruets, have no water to wash away the priest's iniquities, etc.
Lectors don't show up.
People show up during the Liturgy of the Word.
The celebrant announces the wrong intention.
Do you get the idea? This morning hit a new high/low. Everything was fine until just after the Consecration. Everyone heard a loud thump. 99% of the people wouldn't know what happened because they couldn't see what had happened. But we lectors who are up on the sanctuary saw. Father's microphone, amplifier box, whatchacallit, dropped and hit the floor with a loud thud.
That stuck Father as funny and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The fact that he was struggling to keep composure struck us, lectors, as funny.
The worse is yet to come.
Just as Father stepped away from the altar to go distribute Communion, his cincture dropped to the floor. There it lay--curled up in a circle. He shook his head in disbelief, stepped out of it, and continued on to distribute Communion. At least that was quiet, and 99.999999% of the congregation wasn't aware of what had happened.
Father also forgot to bring the celiac pyx with him.
Welcome to the Sunday 7:30 AM Mass, Father!