Lifeline alert

Delivering home communion recently, I found myself in a circle of older women. Our hostess, whom I will call "Alberta", was mostly deaf with a dead hearing aid battery. As I was breaking the bread (officially "the fracture"), Alberta's phone rang. Set on its loudest possible ring, everyone jumped in their seats then tittered while she searched high and low for the receiver. It quickly became apparent that Lifeline was testing its process. Alberta was instructed through a separate receiver/speaker to press the button around her neck. Unfortunately, she could not hear their instructions. So, holding the bread and wine in each hand, I yelled across the circle for Alberta to "PUSH THE BUTTON". She refused. "THAT'S ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES," she screamed back. "NO!" I said, "PUSH THE BUTTON NOW." The other ladies nervously watched the exchange repeated several times. They were caught in the decorum of respecting the hostess, yet hearing contradicting instructions. Finally, I took Alberta's button and pushed it myself. "We will now contact emergency services. Please stand by for assistance," said Lifeline. "NO!" Alberta screamed. "YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!" Still with bread and wine in hand, I sheepishly tried to explain that Lifeline had said to push the button. Everyone was aghast. No one moved. Silence descended. Everyone sent pointed looks in my direction. Then, over Lifeline's speaker, "Alberta, are you ok?" Again, she could not hear them to answer, so I responded for her. They demanded I identify myself, but quickly proceeded to say that it was a real test. We had done the right thing. The ladies all breathed a sigh of relief as Lifeline hung up. Again, silence. And, still holding the Communion elements in hand, I thought about how to possibly reclaim sacred space... so, I simply said, "Jesus Christ, the True Life Line..." Ugh.