Screaming, scolding, sobbing, shushing… Sunday morning church can be an emotional event with a child. Just last Sunday I held my 21 month old son, Titus, hearing only his angry cry (and not the prayers). In response, my tears were just behind my eyes, welling deeper with every passing minute.
“I want to be with THEM”, I thought, “I want to sit quietly and listen intently, just like the rest of the church.”
My mind wandered to the handful of times when I was on the other side of the glass, but then, years of memories flooded from the cry room or mother’s room or training chapel or even the narthex of our past. Roughly counting, I am coming up on a 10 year anniversary in the little (not so) sound-proof room in the back of the church!
So is that all it is? Just a little room where the bad kids sit until they can be a respectable part of the body of Christ? Reflecting on my own life in faith for the last 12 years with these tiny Christians, it has been so much more. It is where Karra learned how to hold a hymnal, right side up. Julianna memorized the words of the Lord’s Prayer and when to fold her hands. Rose could hear herself sing and is now obsessed with church hymn tunes. Naomi discovered she couldn’t see what was going on, and quickly adapted to life in the pew. Each of my children had always been a part of worship in these separate little places, as was I.
So the tears subsided, the pacifier comfort kicked in, and both mama and baby began to calm down. I was thankful for the small space where Titus may learn something to move us closer to the live version of church. But I know we will continue to wrestle with lessons of silence and stillness. Then, Pastor appropriately concluded, “The Lord look upon you with favor and grant you peace.” Sure enough, his head on my shoulder, his eyes puffy from tears, Titus affirmed, “Amen!”
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