To The Mom at the Back of the Church

At the back of the auditorium, my daughter was making a joyful noise.

It unfortunately did not go along with the song we were singing–nor did it blend in.

We were seated away from the rest of the church congregation, which ended up being the right choice. In between choruses, I was feeding my tiny dinosaur small bites of food with a plastic fork, and she was squealing with joy over the strawberries.

It was a good thing they were serving breakfast. I’d woken up late, and had to scramble to get us out the door, with only a bottle of milk for the road. Of course, we still got there late.

To the mom at the back of the church, I see you.

You’re surviving on scraps of sermons and fellowship (with eyes darting to your stroller the whole time). You’re running on fumes from that half a coffee you managed to drink.

If you’re like me, you’ve spackled on concealer after a long night and attempted to tame your hair, then picked out the best possible option from your closet, and did the best you could to make the kids look presentable.

And for what? It might all feel like a waste of time. Why bother getting everyone dressed up, only to arrive late, miss the message, and feel more bewildered when you left than when you started? Maybe we should have just stayed home.

Friend, we are doing sacred work in this season.

It’s the sacred work of showing up and making ourselves available for God to speak to us in multiple forms at church–while also making ourselves available for our children and their various needs.

You might be nursing a baby or rocking one to sleep, or maybe preventing a toddler from climbing up a flight of stairs or tumbling down said flight of stairs. Maybe you are entertaining or consoling or distracting a child who feels sensory overwhelm in the sanctuary or children’s class.

And you know what? This is worship too. Listening in on praise music. A quick hug to a friend. Giving a snack. Playing 100 rounds of peekaboo. Keeping your eyes open and staying alert during a prayer so your child doesn’t wander off.

It’s also worship when you’re watching from home in your pajamas, nursing a second cup of lukewarm coffee, singing along with the television set, and texting a friend about your wild and crazy morning.

God invites us into his presence, however we show up, because he loves us dearly.

Even when we show up tired, disoriented, or frustrated. He delights in spending time with us, in our decision to choose him, in our fight to stay part of the fellowship even when it’s hard.

And he is overjoyed at our care for our little ones, whom he also loves dearly. He knows they have a lot of needs, and he sees every one. He is glorified when we take care of the ones he has entrusted to us.

Do you know what else? He also sees your every need. He meets us in our chaos with small moments to fill our cups, with kind words from friends, others going through the same seasons, and watching over our littles.

He provides for our physical needs, whether it’s breakfast being served that day, or the package of wipes borrowed from another mom.

He provides just enough to keep us going in this busy season, and promises and delivers rest and relief even when they feel elusive.

Mama, you are raising children to love and value God’s people.

Every step they take at church is making memories for your littles, even if they seem too young to remember. You are moving fellow believers with your presence, however hurried it may be, inspiring them not to give up on meeting together and encouraging them to keep going.

Our church experience that day was a crazy one. We managed to make it through the welcome with the food and a couple books, but by the time the main message began, my toddler was starting to get antsy, and even louder. We shuffled our way out the back door and into the hallway, her hand in mine, her small shoes wandering. Luckily another small friend and a few grown-ups were outside, so even though we missed most of the message, there was fellowship.

The rest of service involved listening to snippets of what was being shared amid chasing a toddler up and down the hall and keeping her from smacking her friend or tossing all the books off a small shelf. Hanging out much more after service wasn’t really an option. We quickly said our goodbyes and strolled out.

And that was church for the day. Along with a few worship songs sung to my steering wheel, and me downing a communion cup a few hours later after getting my toddler down for a nap.

But you know what? Even that was worship. Even that filled us up. In this season of chaos, which won’t last forever – that is enough.