This morning we attended at the Episcopal Church in our neighborhood where I was a member before I married S. I always enjoy going there, seeing people I know and how much the children have grown. It’s good there in many ways, but in some ways I think I’ve grown beyond that church, and that makes any visit bitter-sweet.? The other thing is that there are so few children there and the young ones are mostly down in nursery for most of the service (up to age four or five). We do put W in nursery until after the sermon, but the big kinder stay with us, and we try to help them participate in the service as much as possible, with varying degrees of success.
Today the Old Testament lesson was the familiar tale of Moses in the Bulrushes, and I have to admit I didn’t get too much out of the sermon, because today was one of those days when the children were just having trouble being still. At one point F had to be taken out for some discipline, and I was feeling pretty worn out by the end of the service. As we were slowly filing out after the service, an older gentleman, who is kind of the patriarch of the church stopped to say “hello” to the children as he does every week. He greeted them and then turned to me “I am so glad to see you working with them in church. We need witnesses.” he said.
I murmured something about “too much energy”
“Yes,” he said, ” but they’re here and that’s important.
“Church isn’t just for grown-ups.” I replied (something I believe but wasn’t really feeling right then.)
“No, it’s for all of us all of our lives, and the children need to be here.” he said and walked on to speak to the next person.
What an encouragement! He is more than eighty years old, and he and his wife are faithfully attending and making Christ clear in their lives these many years. If he says it is worth doing, I can see from his life that it is.
I’ll remember that this week. God knows I needed to hear? just that today.