A PSA on Sitting on the End

I was a college student when a retired friend of mine from church invited me to go with her to hear a speaker brought in for some special services in town. The services were held in an auditorium that held about 2000 people, and we arrived early for a good seat.

And we found the perfect seats. A row right in the middle of the middle section – with an unblemished view of the platform and perfect hearing range. We settled in, the two of us, along with half a dozen or so of her other friends, all of whom were older and got around with the assistance of canes and walkers.

I crossed my legs carefully, not wishing to start a domino effect of crashing walkers and prepared to enjoy the evening.

Somewhere in the opening moments of his speech, it hit me. The intense waves of nausea, the hot flashes, the cold sweats, the pounding headache…and I knew…I had to get out. NOW. Not at the next break. Not if and when they had intermission. NOW.

In a less-than-graceful move, I climbed and tripped my way out of the row, clanking against walkers, knocking over canes, and probably stepping on poor arthritic toes...and rushed to the restroom, where I tried to cool down and feel better. Finally I felt well enough to drive home…and within a day, I was over whatever mysterious illness fell over me, but I’ve never recovered from the utter panic of being trapped inside a row with no escape route.

Seriously.

You can laugh. You can roll your eyes. You can mutter “Man, she needs therapy” {and you’d be right}  - but the fact remains – I have a fear of being trapped in the middle of a row with no escape route when I need one. And when I say fear, I mean fear. I don’t mean mild discomfort. I mean I will panic and cry and hyperventilate.

I say this to you today, not because I particularly enjoy airing my flaws and weaknesses to you, but because I want to say the following on behalf of my fellow middle-of-the-row panickers. It’s a PSA of sorts.

This past April, Ryan and I began attending a different church. A HUGE church. Our old church averaged about 120 on a Sunday morning and our new church averages about 1500. It’s kind of a spiritual culture shock to end up in a church where you can absolutely get lost from Sunday to Sunday. {And for a while, it’s what our hearts wanted and needed. No complaints. Just stating facts.}

Ryan and I get to the service early for the express purpose of picking out a seat that allows me to worship without panic. He would, I’m sure, sit much closer to the front and smack in the middle of a row, but he’s so respectful of my need to be in a hidden corner where I can get in and out if necessary, so we go early to pick a sort-of-back and definitely-on-the-end seat.

Recently, with attendance picking up, the ushers have been roaming the aisles, urging people to scoot in to the center of the pews so latecomers can find a seat. I get it. I really do. It’s hard in a church that size, to see who has room left in the row – especially when everyone stands to sing.

Normally I luck out and get to stay on the end. But one week I had to move to the center, and with no time left before the start of church to hunt for a new seat, I felt my chest tightening in panic, and as everyone else stood to sing 10,000 Reasons {one of my favorite songs}, I had hot tears running down my face, and my breath caught hard in my throat. I was hot from embarrassment, my knees started shaking, and for the rest of that service, I prayed for peace and failed to comprehend much of anything the minister said.

So as a person who panics in the middle of rows, I would like to gently ask ushers to consider that some people are on the end of a pew because they need to be there. The reasons are many {might have to leave early, might be pregnant and struggling with morning sickness, might need to get out to take medication at some point} and no explanations should be required.

It’s okay if you ask us to scoot in, because we know that’s your job, but when you pace the aisles and search high and low for spaces, it makes us nervous. And if we tell you we’re happy to stand up and let people go past us to the empty space, please understand that we’re not trying to be pains. We came early for an end seat for a very real reason, and we just need to keep it.

It’s okay for you to not understand and it's even okay with me {I'll just speak for myself on this point} if you think we're stupid because of it – but please don’t treat us differently because this is what we need for this day.