I don't know about you, but I think it's really hard to take a two-year-old to church. (Well, an almost-two-year-old.) He yells for the sake of yelling, runs through the pews, won't sit on my lap or near me, comments (loudly) on everything he sees...sigh.
So there I am, near the front of the church, in the almost-same pew I've sat in for the past eight years. Sure, I could move towards the back, or outside the sanctuary. But I am, to a fault, a creature of habit. I like that pew. The same familiar faces surround me (see, they're creatures of habit too), and there I am comfortable. Except for my extremely loud two-year-old.
So, after Matty went to Sunday School and it was clear that Jack wasn't going to be quiet (how is it possible for him to yell with my hand over his mouth?!), we took to the benches just outside the santcuary. Which, in retrospect, would have been a good place to start too, were I not forced to the front by habit. And love of that pew. Outside of yelling at another two-year-old when she tried to touch his book (gasp!), he did fine there. Because he could talk and carry on. And I could still hear the sermon. Pastor Hal said during his sermon (and I'm paraphrasing), "I'm not sure what brought you to church this morning, but I hope, at least in part, it was to see Jesus." Yes, please.
During the last song, we went to collect our things. During that - what? three minutes - Jack managed to spill his goldfish, yell at me for taking them away, chase me around the pew, throw this books on the floor and leave the church...without me. Super de duper. I gathered up our stuff and followed him out with a quiet, "I guess he's done," to the friends behind me.
And then I saw Jesus. Because Pastor Tedd was watiting at the back of the church with this (and again I paraphrase):
Hi, Jack. I'm glad you were here. I'm glad you brought him, Leanne, and I'm glad you sat at the front of the church. It's important for him to be here.
And me, having broken a sweat, smiled and sighed. He's right indeed. Thank you, Pastor.
(And yes, Katie, the nursery probably makes more sense...'cause you are likely to suggest it. :))
So there I am, near the front of the church, in the almost-same pew I've sat in for the past eight years. Sure, I could move towards the back, or outside the sanctuary. But I am, to a fault, a creature of habit. I like that pew. The same familiar faces surround me (see, they're creatures of habit too), and there I am comfortable. Except for my extremely loud two-year-old.
So, after Matty went to Sunday School and it was clear that Jack wasn't going to be quiet (how is it possible for him to yell with my hand over his mouth?!), we took to the benches just outside the santcuary. Which, in retrospect, would have been a good place to start too, were I not forced to the front by habit. And love of that pew. Outside of yelling at another two-year-old when she tried to touch his book (gasp!), he did fine there. Because he could talk and carry on. And I could still hear the sermon. Pastor Hal said during his sermon (and I'm paraphrasing), "I'm not sure what brought you to church this morning, but I hope, at least in part, it was to see Jesus." Yes, please.
During the last song, we went to collect our things. During that - what? three minutes - Jack managed to spill his goldfish, yell at me for taking them away, chase me around the pew, throw this books on the floor and leave the church...without me. Super de duper. I gathered up our stuff and followed him out with a quiet, "I guess he's done," to the friends behind me.
And then I saw Jesus. Because Pastor Tedd was watiting at the back of the church with this (and again I paraphrase):
Hi, Jack. I'm glad you were here. I'm glad you brought him, Leanne, and I'm glad you sat at the front of the church. It's important for him to be here.
And me, having broken a sweat, smiled and sighed. He's right indeed. Thank you, Pastor.
(And yes, Katie, the nursery probably makes more sense...'cause you are likely to suggest it. :))