Just keep bringing them...

I've expressed before the challenges that are often involved in our Sunday Mornings. Today was pretty typical. My girls, particularly Delia, have entered a phase of interdependence with me that is endearing in some moments and a bit stifling in others. The morning was full of dramatic cries of "Mama!" any time I tried to accomplish anything that required both hands and even part of my attention.

We made it through the morning. Lunches packed (church goes 11-2, right through lunch time), quiet books selected and packed, three kids bathed and dressed, one husband shaved and dressed (he did that himself, thank goodness), my own self dressed and brushed and looking as presentable as a nearly 9month pregnant woman could expect.

We climbed into the Pirate Car (more on that later) and shuffled off to church. We got there with enough time to change a diaper, climb the pile of mulch out back of the church, hold the door for a couple of older ladies, and still find a pew in a good location for minimal distraction of others and maximum containment. Whew.

As the meeting starts I often miss the announcements, but today as the man conducting announced the sudden passing of Addie, one of the older sisters in the congregation, I gasped audibly. I couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in my eyes and the more I tried to stop them the harder they came.

My reaction caught me a little by surprise. Our congregation is made up of a large number of older couples, widows and widowers. Many of them have lived in Davis for decades. As horrible as it sounds, it's sometimes hard to remember who's who until you've had some interactions with them. This can be tricky when you go through the three hour block of meetings trying to keep three small children quiet. I have to make a conscious effort to take my blinders off and even notice who else has come to church.

Addie was a quiet but fiery lady. Her comments in the few adult meetings I managed to attend were always thoughtful, yet provocative. She brought us dinner after the girls were born and again when Van broke his leg. She had led a full and interesting life and raised five children of her own.

My church going experience of late is not always spiritually edifying in the traditional sense. I don't sit through thoughtful lessons participating in discussion. I don't even always hear what is said during the meetings I do get to attend. My focus right now is often on helping my children feel and recognize the importance of being there. I try to help them see (in an age appropriate way) why we do the things we do, and understand the basic tenets of what we believe.

It's not an easy task. Several months ago, I explained to Van's school teacher about our church attendance. I wanted her advice on what length of time I could reasonably expect him to focus on an activity or lesson. She said, "A well prepared, age appropriate lesson? Ten minutes." We talked a little more and she finished by saying "That's why a lot of people just stop taking their kids to church at all."

Hmm.

The following Sunday as we herded our brood out of the chapel, I saw Addie in the hall. She looked at me, knowing nothing of the exchange at school, and said, "Just keep bringing them." This was typical of Addie. Our exchanges were rarely lengthy or even numerous, but her thoughtfulness made an impression on me. I felt a keen loss today when I heard of her passing and with it a renewed determination to do just that. Just keep bringing them.