Dear Clara,
Yesterday, when you woke up from your nap, you were in a funk to say the least. I knew we needed to leave soon for the youth group kickoff concert at church, so I tried to entice you with your favorite things to help improve your mood before we left.
I asked you if you wanted a snack. “No!”
Water? “No!”
To color? “No!”
Play with your baby dolls? “No!”
Do puzzles? “No!”
Finally, exasperated, I said, “Clara, we have to go to church soon, so let’s find something you want to do!”
You promptly jumped up from your Emmy-worthy-facedown-on-the-floor-tantrum position and ran into the kitchen. I followed you, thinking you wanted some watermelon. With tears still streaked on your face, a mess of post-nap curly hair, and wearing pajamas that had a little bit of your lunch on the shirt, you handed me your shoes and said, “Let’s go!”
I thought I would call your bluff. I was not even certain that you knew what church was. “Ok,” I countered, “but if you really want to go to church, you have to get dressed and let me fix your hair.” You said, “Ok, mommy. Flower pants!”
And so, a few minutes later, with a sock monkey in your arms and your flower pants on your bottom, we were off.
When we got there, you took a little bit of time to warm up and spent a lot of times in my arms with your head pressed into my shoulder, smiling at people while keeping your distance, but by the time we were sitting in the café at the pre-event meeting, you were ready to get down and run around and even threw in some giggles for good measure.
But then the middle school girls arrived, and you were entranced. They tried to teach you how to hula hoop, and they showed you how to play corn hole, and then they let you sit with them for dinner. And in between bites of scarfing down your hot dog bun, you looked up at me, smiling so hard that you were laughing a little bit, and said, “Church, mommy!”
Yes, little wise one, that picnic table full of cool older girls loving an almost-two-year-old is the church.
And then you kept saying it all night long. “Yay, church! Happy, church!”
You pointed at your big cousin, who was there with his band to lead worship all the way from Georgia, and said to me, “John! Church!” And yes, baby, he is the church too.
Even after you gave yourself a nice, big shiner on your cheek, which we knew was inevitable because of the intensity of your excitement, you sat in the parking lot with the ice pack pressed up against your face grinning from ear to ear because, “Church!”
You got it again. Church is when we help each other up after we fall down.
Soon after the concert started, Daddy and I decided that it was time for you to leave, because it was loud, and your ears are small, and you were rubbing your eyes like you do when it is close to bedtime and time for little girls to go home. And I was walking with you two to the car to tell you goodbye, and you started singing a song from the concert in the parking lot with bleary but twinkling eyes. And I kissed you goodbye, and you whispered to me, with that perfect mixture of exhaustion and joy, “Church, mama.”
And you are right. Singing and having fun together is church too.
Last night, I thought a lot about what you said. How being an MCFK (Minister of Christian Formation’s Kid) is like all of the glory of being a PK without anybody talking about you from the pulpit, and how church is like home to you, and how it is an amazing blessing that you have this village of people who call you their child and love and take care of you. And how amazing it is for your dad and me to witness and be a part of all of this. My heart was so full, the way it gets sometimes when it is full of more gratitude than I think it can hold.
This morning, when you woke up, you looked like a mess. Your cheek is black and blue, and your eyes were puffy. And I laid you down on the changing table, and you said, “Church,” with a wistful look on your face, remembering last night, because when God speaks to me, I always get a lot of confirmation.
Yesterday I learned all over again that the greatest gift of being a parent is seeing the world through your eyes. You know, when you are really close to something, sometimes you stop being able to see how beautiful it is, but you showed me again. Church, baby girl. Church! Yay, church!
Love, Mama