DON’T TAKE YOUR KIDS TO CHURCH

If you are one of those parents of more than two kids whose children arrive places fully dressed, well groomed and walking quietly behind you, congratulations. I don’t want to know how you did it because I am fairly certain it involved death threats and/or benadryl.  Once I hit the three kid mark, around the time that Awesome Travel Mom is Dead happened, I gave up on keeping up appearances. It was always a miracle that we arrived anywhere and what we looked like when we got there became immaterial to me.  Once I hit the four kid tally, how things went down once we arrived somewhere was a crapshoot on any given day. A kid leash and some bribe candy were my parenting tools of choice in those days and I was not likely to be able to keep track of all of my kids in a public place. I became choosy. When invited somewhere, I really had to think through the ramifications; let the scenario play out in my mind. What are some of the things my kids might attempt to do at said event? Sharpies on the wall while I am busy chatting? Sharpies on themselves? Kicking a hole through the drywall? Sliding down the slide naked? Double fisting Dr. Peppers? Drinking from a bottle of ranch dressing? Showing the middle finger to the librarian? Telling the Pastor that “we don’t pray at our house”?  These are all of the flashbacks of real live situations that I would sift through when making a decision. I had to weigh them against my need to go somewhere and see people and decide if the risk was worth it. Some days I would take my chances, some days I would not.

One of the places I have never had a choice about taking my children is church. We have worked in churches for most of our married life and the Sunday morning ritual is just a part of our family culture. It’s one of those rare, horrible “take your kids to work with you once a week” situations and when our kids were little it was really hard. Sidenote: when you see your young worship leaders, the ones with bunches of littles, on the platform next Sunday, try to feel deep appreciation for what they have accomplished. Think about the fact that they have likely had to rouse their babies from a deep sleep way too early that morning. They had to get themselves ready even earlier so that they could get jammie-footed babies, sippy cups and breakfasty snacks, diaper bags, churchy outfits, toys, instruments and chord charts to the church building by at least 8 am. They have likely had to take a break from rehearsing “How Great Is Our God” to go change a poopy diaper. They may even have had to bolt from the rehearsal to catch a streaker and wrestle him back into his clothes before parishioners arrived. (This happend to me in 2007.) They do all of this and then try to come across as peaceful and centered in time to lead you in spiritual song. It is one of the most taxing things I have ever done as a parent and a musician…and I did it every single week, whether we liked it or not.

I had it down to a science by the time my 2 big kids were 11 and 9 and things typically ran pretty smoothly. Russell and Ivy were helpful and Elliott and Sam were fairly used to the crazy routine of a Sunday morning in Pattyworld. We were always mutually thrashed by the time the event was over but we knew how to make the best of it and what was expected of each of us. Most Sundays, my kids ended up in real clothes with at least donuts for fuel and could tough it out until noon.

Thankfully, we worked at a fellowship where fun stuff happened during worship anyhow, so while Barry and I were leading, if our kids were doing things like jumping jacks or somersaults, it kind of blended in with the other weird stuff that went on and no one really noticed. Until this particular Sunday.  We had navigated through the early morning routine and things had gone quite well. We made it through the music portion of the morning and everyone was settling  back into their seats. We had no Sunday School to speak of at that time and our fellowship’s way of filling that void was by passing out bags of coloring pages and snacks to the kiddos once the sermon got underway.  We got to our seats while the kid bags were being distributed and the Pastor was making his way to the front to deliver his message. I glanced around to get a fix on my kids and located the three boys just a couple of rows away from me, digging into their sermon bags for the snacks (donuts only take you so far.) I canvassed the room for Ivy and couldn’t get eyes on her. I figured she must just be in the bathroom and when I turned around to face the front, that’s when I saw her. She was seated on the floor, right in front of our Pastor, in a circle with three other girls. Her little purse was open on the floor beside her and she had a deck of cards in her hands. She was dealing cards to her friends and about to start a rousing game of slap jack, gin rummy or Texas Hold ‘Em-right in front of the Pastor, as he was beginning his sermon, in front of the whole church. The worship leader’s kid was facilitating a gambling time in conjunction with the sermon in the house of God. I was mortified. Here was my own child turning the santuary into a den of thieves, God help her. “Ivy!!!” I hissed at her. “Commmmmme hhhhhhere pleasssssse!” I shut that kid casino down as fast as possible and made her sit in the seat right beside me.

I could hear the snickers from all of the parents whose kids had just so happened to not be doing anything bizarre at that precise moment.

On the ride home, it was difficult to explain to my kids why it was ok to do jumping jacks and somersaults on the front row at our church during the music, but not ok to play Gin Rummy on the front row, or the back row, during the sermon. We had to lay down some pretty extensive and weird new rules about what kind of stuff you could and could not be seen doing during a worship time and what could and could not come with you in your little purse. I fully get her confusion. The social constructs and cues were contradictory. We want you to feel free…but not that free. Sigh, Charismatics.

Maybe some of you would like to shoot your young parent worship leaders a text right now and offer to help corral their kids for them some Sunday morning. You have no idea the gift you will be giving them. I am so grateful for the seasons where folks have given to me in that way. What is left of my sanity is, in part, due to the loving volunteer hours sweethearts gave to me in the early morning hours on a Sunday. You know who you are and in my case, you are a veritable army. I thank you.

If you are like me and you have to think hard about whether or not you can risk going out in public with your brood because the stakes might be too high, consider not taking them to church. The whole “sit still” vibe doesn’t jive with toddlers. The whole “be quiet” vibe makes babies feel downright rebellious. Personally, the whole “don’t gamble during the sermon” vibe was really hard on my daughter. (JK) In closing, if you care what folks think of you and if you are partial to your dignity, take it from me, don’t take your kids to church.

P.S. I would love to hear about the horrible things your kids have done at church so that I can feel better about myself.