Week #1: Our first week at church was going okay until three-fourths of the way through the service (post sermon, I might add) a pack of elephants strangely appeared at the back of the church. The herd, pretzels and gluey tissue papered popsicle stick crosses in hand, bolted down the center aisle to join their parents for the (short!) remainder of the service. My two children looked up at me (from lying on the kneeler, it had been a long sermon) the way Caesar must have looked at Brutus just before taking his last breath.
Also, received many quizzical looks when I introduced myself, my son and my daughter with no mention of a husband. What better a place to leave them with the unexplained, right?
Week #2: Enrolled in Sunday School.
Wrote only my name on the line after "Names of parents that will be in service while child(ren) are participating in Sunday School" Hey, I want the credit for bringing them. Because someone, somewhere IS keeping score...I CERTAINLY am not, that would be petty, but I surely wouldn't want to botch up the tallies.
Pretty sure I saw the very nice teacher lady bring that paper a tad bit closer to her eyes, squint confusedly, and then sigh sympathetically while reviewing that part of the form before graciously welcoming my kids into Godly Play.
Week #3: Upon the completion of Sunday service, we were making our way back to the sanctuary to collect our coats (read: bribable donut) when both kids stopped to stare at the man playing the large, full organ. He looked up from his sheet music and motioned them to cross the alter and join him on the organ bench. I figured what's the harm in sitting thigh to thigh with a grown man while in a church, right? While playing the hymn, he directed them both to push keys on the organ to accompany the song. When they finished playing the recessional music, he commented on how "steady of a note" they could both play.
Then came the breaking of the 11th Commandment: Thou Shall Not Indicate That Thou Are Interested In Anything That Could Result In Another Commitment For Thy Mother To Cart Thou Around To.
"We both play the piano."
"WHAT?!?! WHY ARE YOU TWO NOT IN MY CHILDREN'S CHOIR?!?!? Mom, have these two here on Mondays from 4:00 - 5:00 pm." For handbells. And chimes. And hymns, oh my.
Week #3, Day #2: Children's Choir Rehearsal, Monday 4:00 - 5:00 pm
That night after choir, the kids ask their dad over dinner if he is going to come to Palm Sunday to watch them sing in the choir. He drills them on what exactly is Palm Sunday? They are stumped. I say, Jesus Christ, they have only been going for three weeks. He says, then if someone at this table can at least give me a good explanation about what happened on Easter, then maybe I'll come. I try to stop the madness by standing up, fork still in hand, and making like I am dying on the cross with my arms outstretched, my head bowed, and my tongue hanging out. He rolls his eyes at my charade-like hint and tells them the "real" story of how Easter is the day Jesus delivers the chocolate eggs. I slam down my hand and glare at him. SERIOUSLY?!?! I yell, AFTER I JUST DIED ON AN IMAGINARY CROSS?!?! He says, THIS is why I don't do religion, you church folk can't take a joke. I mutter that he is the biggest joke I know and take my plate to the kitchen.
Week #4: The dyeing of Easter Eggs in Sunday School and then the herd carrying said eggs to the alter to be blessed. It is announced that the bright, colorful eggs will be donated to the food pantry. For some unexplainable reason, the idea of distributing sparkly pink tye-dyed eggs to Concord's homeless sends me into a convulsive attack of laughter that won't quit and results in me faking a coughing fit to be able to get up mid-service and collect myself. Kids remained in the pew while I tried to employ labor breathing techniques to end my uncontrollable guffawing in the restroom at the bottom of the stairs.
Oh, and pretty sure I felt some glances, heavy and filled with concern, directed my way when the gospel reading from Luke mentioned the persistent widow.
Week #2: Enrolled in Sunday School.
Wrote only my name on the line after "Names of parents that will be in service while child(ren) are participating in Sunday School" Hey, I want the credit for bringing them. Because someone, somewhere IS keeping score...I CERTAINLY am not, that would be petty, but I surely wouldn't want to botch up the tallies.
Pretty sure I saw the very nice teacher lady bring that paper a tad bit closer to her eyes, squint confusedly, and then sigh sympathetically while reviewing that part of the form before graciously welcoming my kids into Godly Play.
Week #3: Upon the completion of Sunday service, we were making our way back to the sanctuary to collect our coats (read: bribable donut) when both kids stopped to stare at the man playing the large, full organ. He looked up from his sheet music and motioned them to cross the alter and join him on the organ bench. I figured what's the harm in sitting thigh to thigh with a grown man while in a church, right? While playing the hymn, he directed them both to push keys on the organ to accompany the song. When they finished playing the recessional music, he commented on how "steady of a note" they could both play.
Then came the breaking of the 11th Commandment: Thou Shall Not Indicate That Thou Are Interested In Anything That Could Result In Another Commitment For Thy Mother To Cart Thou Around To.
"We both play the piano."
"WHAT?!?! WHY ARE YOU TWO NOT IN MY CHILDREN'S CHOIR?!?!? Mom, have these two here on Mondays from 4:00 - 5:00 pm." For handbells. And chimes. And hymns, oh my.
Week #3, Day #2: Children's Choir Rehearsal, Monday 4:00 - 5:00 pm
That night after choir, the kids ask their dad over dinner if he is going to come to Palm Sunday to watch them sing in the choir. He drills them on what exactly is Palm Sunday? They are stumped. I say, Jesus Christ, they have only been going for three weeks. He says, then if someone at this table can at least give me a good explanation about what happened on Easter, then maybe I'll come. I try to stop the madness by standing up, fork still in hand, and making like I am dying on the cross with my arms outstretched, my head bowed, and my tongue hanging out. He rolls his eyes at my charade-like hint and tells them the "real" story of how Easter is the day Jesus delivers the chocolate eggs. I slam down my hand and glare at him. SERIOUSLY?!?! I yell, AFTER I JUST DIED ON AN IMAGINARY CROSS?!?! He says, THIS is why I don't do religion, you church folk can't take a joke. I mutter that he is the biggest joke I know and take my plate to the kitchen.
Week #4: The dyeing of Easter Eggs in Sunday School and then the herd carrying said eggs to the alter to be blessed. It is announced that the bright, colorful eggs will be donated to the food pantry. For some unexplainable reason, the idea of distributing sparkly pink tye-dyed eggs to Concord's homeless sends me into a convulsive attack of laughter that won't quit and results in me faking a coughing fit to be able to get up mid-service and collect myself. Kids remained in the pew while I tried to employ labor breathing techniques to end my uncontrollable guffawing in the restroom at the bottom of the stairs.
Oh, and pretty sure I felt some glances, heavy and filled with concern, directed my way when the gospel reading from Luke mentioned the persistent widow.
Week #4, Day #2: In case you didn't believe me.
Wondering if maybe widows with young children are the recipients of a church casserole brigade...
Week #5: Also known as Palm Sunday. Grammy & Grandpa attend 10:00 service to see Christopher and Courtney proudly waving palms and singing, 'Oh Glory, Laud, and Honor' (or "Oh Laurie, Lard, and Longer" as practiced in the van on the way in that morning) with the Children's Choir. Thinking their presence next to me in the pew could only have helped my chances of a homemade Mac & Cheese showing up on my front porch real soon.
Week #5, Day #2: Went to the hospital to visit a friend and after circling the full parking lot twice, parked in (one of the five) "Reserved for Clergy" spaces. I mean, we've been FIVE weeks in a row and that pretty much means I could be ordained, right?
Week #6: This Sunday is Easter. Easter service begins at 9:00. Easter Egg Hunt for Sunday-schoolers at 10:00. Kids again asked their dad if he would be coming to church on Easter. He paused, smirked my way and then said, "Yeah, I just might go, that is, if it is okay with all you Church Folk?"
Great, there goes my Mac & Cheese before it even arrived. Do you think I could pass him off as my ever-so-faithful brother?
Week #5: Also known as Palm Sunday. Grammy & Grandpa attend 10:00 service to see Christopher and Courtney proudly waving palms and singing, 'Oh Glory, Laud, and Honor' (or "Oh Laurie, Lard, and Longer" as practiced in the van on the way in that morning) with the Children's Choir. Thinking their presence next to me in the pew could only have helped my chances of a homemade Mac & Cheese showing up on my front porch real soon.
Week #5, Day #2: Went to the hospital to visit a friend and after circling the full parking lot twice, parked in (one of the five) "Reserved for Clergy" spaces. I mean, we've been FIVE weeks in a row and that pretty much means I could be ordained, right?
Week #6: This Sunday is Easter. Easter service begins at 9:00. Easter Egg Hunt for Sunday-schoolers at 10:00. Kids again asked their dad if he would be coming to church on Easter. He paused, smirked my way and then said, "Yeah, I just might go, that is, if it is okay with all you Church Folk?"
Great, there goes my Mac & Cheese before it even arrived. Do you think I could pass him off as my ever-so-faithful brother?
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