
The morning sun was streaming beautifully through the stained-glass windows of the community chapel at The Villages in Florida. It was a perfect Sunday service, the choir had just finished a lovely hymn, and the congregation was settled into a quiet, reverent moment of reflection.
Sitting in the third pew, Lucy and John were enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. But suddenly, Lucy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had just let out a little bit of gas. The good news? It was completely silent. The bad news? She was now sitting in a crowded church, terrified that it wasn’t actually silent and everyone was just being too polite to say anything.
Panicking slightly, she quietly dug into her purse, pulled out a small notepad and a pen, and scribbled a hurried, discreet note. She folded it up and nudged her husband.
John glanced over, keeping his eyes respectfully forward toward the altar, and opened the little paper. The note read: “I just let out a silent fart. What do you think I should do?”
John didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t sigh, he didn’t roll his eyes, and he didn’t even look at her. He just calmly uncapped his pen, scribbled a quick reply on the bottom of the page, folded it back up, and slid it into her hand.
Lucy carefully unfolded the paper under the shadow of her hymnal, expecting some clever advice on how to casually waft the air or change the subject. Instead, John’s neat handwriting read:
“Put a new battery in your hearing aid.”
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