I never thought I would go to church this morning.
I never imagined I would have gone to church last week, either, or the week before. Three weeks in a row. I don't think that's happened since I was about 17.
There was no life-changing, traumatic experience to suddenly bring me to my knees. The approach of mid-life has caused me to ponder many things - has life ALWAYS moved this fast? Do my kids see me as old? Why does everyone around me seem to be getting so old? When did they start making a Mercedes that starts under $30k and when can I get one?! However, I can't really blame this middling period of my life for my return to church, either.
Instead, it was fueled by - as so many things in my life these days are - the kids. Well, Alexander in particular. We had been considering Sunday school for him for quite some time. As a very literal, logical child, who curiously began asking in recent years many questions about God, we thought that a little theological schooling would be good for him. Zach, who by all accounts (ok, his and his mom's) unabashedly abandoned religion as a teenager and never returned, was in full support of Sunday school for Alexander. As was I; I was eager to introduce the concept of a higher power, a comforting one that is not seen but (hopefully) felt, into his life.
Not that he hadn't had any background at all. I had told him about God, that he created everything on Earth including ourselves, and that people go to be with him in Heaven after they die. The whole "Heaven" concept first arose when our dog Lily died 3 years ago and I was looking to comfort him. But his religious knowledge didn't venture far past that. I wanted it to, but whenever I was struck by the desire to do so, I became frozen by not knowing how best to explain it. ("Jesus is God's son? So which one do we pray to? Wait, Jesus is God's son AND he's also God?! What? Who is Jesus's mother? Is God Mary's husband? Who is Joseph then?" I could just see it now.) I was afraid that I would be faced with such questions that I couldn't adequately answer and ultimately decided to leave it to the so-called professionals.
I told the kids we were going to try something new – going to church and learning about God and also doing some fun things like crafts with other kids. Their interest was piqued, and Colette in particular was very excited about making crafts and playing with other kids. So breaking the news to them was the first challenge. The second challenge was asking Zach to accompany me, and I knew it wouldn’t go over well.
As expected, it was met with a fair amount of groaning and “Really? I HAVE to go?” I asked if he would PLEASE accompany me just for the first time, since it’s a new experience, it would make me feel better. He relented.
So on Sunday morning, with me vacillating between envisioning of a 1950s-style Rockwell-esque painting and flashbacks of getting ready for church from my own childhood, I got out my “good” pants (when you’re a stay-at-home mom who hasn’t worked for years, you typically only have one pair) and helped Colette pick out a dress, brush her hair, and instruct my son to change out of his sweatpants. Even Zach donned his regular weekday work wear, and suddenly, we were all very impressive in our Sunday finery as we climbed into the car.
Thankfully, the ride to the church is not far, so I didn’t have terribly long to dwell (see: worry) over how things would go. We followed a few other people through the door marked “Sunday School” down to a basement-style structure with several rooms. First up was the children’s chapel, which is for children from kindergarten through second grade. We entered the small room with a miniature version of an altar in the front, lines of tiny orange plastic chairs for the kids. Colette immediately went up to the second row from the front because she’d spotted a girl she wanted to sit behind. Alexander shunned the orange chairs in favor of a piano bench behind me as close as possible to the back wall. I encouraged him to move up and sit next to his sister, but he refused. So I asked him to at least sit in one of the children’s chairs next to me. He picked up the chair, moved it up against a big plant and did his best to camouflage himself, shrinking down into his jacket.
The children’s chapel was really cute. I didn’t get to see too much of it since the woman in charge of Sunday School, whom I’d spoken to at length on the phone the previous week, came by the class and I went out into the hall to speak to her. Apparently I missed some fun which Zach filled me in on after chapel was over and the kids were in their individual classes. When the girl heading up the chapel asked if anyone was sick, Zach said, Colette raised her hand and informed everyone that her mom & dad are sick (we were not). And when they asked if there were any birthdays, Alexander raised his hand, thinking of his friend from school whose birthday party he had just attended the night before. The girl asked his name and he replied very quietly. “Great! When’s your birthday, Alan?” she asked him. Fun times in the children’s chapel.
After the chapel time ended, Colette went to her kindergarten class and Alexander to his. Alexander's class was quite small, only 3 or 4 others - all girls - in the room. I stayed in the room for a few minutes and then watched intently from the hallway. As you may or may not know, Alexander doesn't relish in new situations. As expected, he kept to himself a lot, although he was quite eager to participate in the craft they made and of course shoveled the provided snack down his gullet with great abandon.
I mostly kept an eye on him, and Zach looked after Colette. Not that either one of us were very concerned about her. She was happy coloring a picture of Jesus, I think, listening to a story, and eating a snack. Sunday School for the little ones is all playtime. Alexander, on the other hand, was coming in the middle of a class preparing to make communion, with little or no religious background to speak of. Like I said, I watched his class pretty closely until the door was closed for the last 15 minutes or so. Why was it closed? Were they hiding something? I have no idea. Couldn't be due to my hallway loitering with a watchful eye.
When it was all over, we went to church. It was hard to get out of. When I was a kid, in the Catholic church, I went to CCD. (Usually. In third and part of fourth grade, I went to Catholic school, which exempted me from CCD, which was AWESOME.) But normally, I went to CCD. Which was held on some random weekday afternoon. You know what the difference is between CCD and Sunday School? Sunday School is actually held on Sundays. You know, when church is. This makes it very difficult to escape going to church. In fact, the head of Sunday School told me that "some families go to Mass at 8 am and then Sunday School afterward, some parents go to Mass at 10 and then we bring their children over to church from Sunday School when they're done, and some families bring their kids to Sunday School (insert big huge pregnant Mother Mary pause here) and then leave." The last scenario was clearly frowned upon, figuratively and, in this case, kind of literally too. Siiiigggghhhh. Looks like I'll be going to church for the next 8 years, minimum. Or at least until I decide it's ok to skip sometimes.
But for now, there we were, family of four in our Sunday finery, slipping into a pew in the back just in case Colette somehow injured herself on the kneeler and started crying, Alexander started behaving so badly the stained glass Jesus himself had to reprimand him, or Zach's head exploded. Any and all of these scenarios would warrant a quick exit.
Thankfully, none of them came to pass. There was lots of squirming and lots of "Is it time to go yet?" which is to be expected. Zach wasn't the only one doing those things, though. HA HA HA HA. Actually, Zach was very well-behaved too. He even received communion, which I quickly and teasingly pointed out to him, to which he answered, "Well, what was I supposed to do?" Now, when you go up at communion time, you can cross your arms over your chest which indicates that you want a blessing from the priest, which is what the kids and I did. I think Zach didn't find out about that option until it was too late.
It was a relief when it was over, but the thought of it is still a source of stress every week. Zach won't be going every week, which I expected, and wrangling the kids in church by myself isn't as fun as you might imagine. I also worry about Alexander in yet another school situation - like I need more to worry about - and the idea of the upcoming Communion ceremony. I can see him refusing to walk up there with the other kids. Some days I want to smack myself in the head (and do) for starting him in Sunday School so late. But even if I started him at Colette's age, who knows. He might still be the same way. He's going through a "shy" phase lately even in regular school which is making things very difficult, so there is likely nothing that I could have done to prevent that anyway.
The last part is just trying to figure out how I feel about it. Going back to church after so many, many years feels very unnatural to me, even forced. Am I a better person now that I've been in church every week? Am I "safe"? I don't know... maybe this isn't right, or maybe I just need more time to feel comfortable with it again. And, I have to admit, even though the churches are so very much alike... it feels just a little odd for the church that I find myself in to be Episcopal rather than Catholic. I have problems with the Catholic Church, and everything with the Episcopal Church has just been so EASY and they've been so welcoming, and yet... what can I say, old habits die hard.
In the meantime, we have some home schooling to do as far as religion goes. I've taken a couple of books out of the library about children's Bible stories, and we've only read a couple, but there is more reading to do to help answer some of the questions that Alexander has been hitting me with. Next up: "Why is the symbol of the church a big plus?" Yep, looks like it's time to get back to basics.
