First, some context: as I said, this was an event for pastors and other rostered leaders who are in the first three years of their first calls, plus the staff for the event. This amounted to about 100 rostered leaders. The job I was there to do was only a few hours each day, but during those hours, I had to be really present. I also had to do things like eat and shower. So in the presence of this loving collection of church leaders, I found myself handing my child over to just about anyone who was in reach. If I had to pick something up, or tie my shoe, or go to the bathroom, I would simply turn to whomever was closest and say, "Can you hold this a second?" and their face would light up as they took Grace into their arms. Sometimes, if I was unavailable for a few minutes, I would come back and see that Grace had been passed around the table, or down the row, as everyone took a turn soaking up some baby cuddles. My extroverted daughter would charm each one, offering her smile and her giggles, as well as the various antics that go along with the skills she is slowing gaining (grabbing, waving, general squirminess). By the end of the week, probably a good quarter of the people there had had an opportunity to have Grace jump up and down on their lap at some point or another, including both of the bishops who were there. People were eager to help, even asked to help. ("I'll take her if you need!") And each time they did, the smiles abounded.
What was for me the hardest part of this week, though, and also the best learning, was taking Grace with me to worship. Worship at this event is always really lovely and thoughtfully planned and executed, and I very much look forward to it. The chapel in this facility was a large, beautiful space... with no fabric to soak up the sounds of an excited (and very stimulated and tired) infant just learning to use her voice. So much to my discouragement, every time I tried to go to worship with Grace, she would wiggle and talk and yell and grab my bulletin and squirm out of my arms while I tried to find the next hymn. I sat on the edges of the space so I could slip out if needed, and slip out I did, as many as 10 times in any given service, going just outside the chapel where I could still kind of hear what was happening, but could also bounce and sway Grace into something close to quiet. I refused to give up and just leave - I wanted to worship, darn it! - but I felt terrible that my daughter was disrupting what I knew was carefully planned worship, complete with meaningful pauses, dramatic build-up, and expertly played music. I felt like I was ruining everyone else's worship experience, and like I was being selfish for refusing to leave the space entirely. During one service of confession and forgiveness, I finally just decided to feed Grace to keep her still and quiet, and so during one lengthy silence, all anyone could hear was Grace's sucking sounds and grunting, echoing through the big, beautiful space, as she chugged her bottle... and I was mortified.
But you know what? I was the only one who cared. Three different brothers from the monastery (this facility also houses some brothers) made a point of telling me what a delight it was to hear baby sounds. "We don't get to hear that very often - it is such a joy!" Not one person complained about Grace being too loud or distracting, in fact, most people agreed with the brothers, that it was a delight to have my little Grace unbounded among us.
"Grace unbounded." That was a phrase that appeared at least three times in the hymns we sang during the course of the week. I chuckled the first time, thinking, "Yup, that's my wiggly worm! Grace unbounded, indeed!" But more than the squirming 4 1/2 month old in my arms, the grace that was unbounded was all around me: in the smiles from people as they witnessed my girl's antics, at their patience as I tried to manage everything, at their willingness and eagerness to help out. And also in Grace herself - at her willingness to be passed around from loving arms to loving arms without complaint, at the way she has a knack for bringing smiles to the faces of all around her, at her adaptability in a strange place. And of course, grace was unbounded in the larger picture: that I was even there at all, with an infant in tow (after all my body has been through!), with all these wonderful servants of the Church, all receiving and experiencing Grace upon grace.
I talked with one friend about how delighted I am to hear everyone else's kids in worship. Everyone is worried their kids will distract me, and they very rarely do; on the contrary, I love the idle chatter of children in worship. That is as it should be! And yet when it is my kid, I have no graciousness for myself. So as a final reflection to this blog, a note to parents: I love having your kids in worship. It is just fine with me that they make noise. In fact, I love it because it makes me feel better about the fact that my daughter is probably making even more noise than yours, but also because it is the sound of the future of the Church. Go ahead and let your kids squirm and try out their voices in Church - that is the sound of grace unbounded.
Here are a couple pictures of me trying to change my wiggly worm's diaper in our little portable change station, and her being more interested in exploring the stuff on the floor around her than in letting me finishing dressing her.
No comments:
Post a Comment