|The view of church from our front porch.|
|The baptism of our younger son.|
This Sunday was no different as I sat next to the small woodland creatures with puppets on their hands. It started with Elijah, who is not quite 2 years old,
I somehow managed to get Elijah sitting in a pew with a bag of pretzels. Seconds later, Ben proclaims that he has to go potty. Really? No, seriously? Okay. After mumbling some words inappropriate for chuch to myself, I beg the person behind me to watch Elijah and hope he stays quiet while running Ben to the bathroom. Finally, we are all sitting together in a pew with the help of the family behind me and the church organist who kindly sits with us during the sermon. Yes, it took somewhere between three and four adults and about thirty minutes to wrangle my kids into a pew. What was I thinking?!
I took a deep breath and I watched. I watched a boy in mouse ears dance a jig in our pew exuberantly celebrating as we sang. I watched a toddler who says only twenty words frantically sign "Jesus" while saying "Geegus" as he watched communion being prepared on the altar. I laughed out loud as a boy insisted on passing the peace with a moose puppet, outright refusing when anyone tried to shake his bare hand instead. I knelt at the communion rail with two children so excited to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus that I almost cried, and yes one of them had mouse ears on (that he had turned around backwards specifically for the occasion so that everyone sitting in the pews could see the front of his ears as knelt). I heard two little voices echo every 'Amen' and 'Lord, hear our prayer' just a few seconds after the rest of the community.
I knew why I took on this crazy, exhausting task of worshiping with my children. And, I can only hope that some of the community gathered was blessed to see a little bit of why I did this as well. If not, there's always next Sunday when I'm sitting next to two superheros.