When My Kid Told Me to Get Back in Mass

photo by doistrakh

Every soul has a weakness, right? I’m not thinking chocolate or daytime TV, but a legitimate, nagging obstacle that seems to constantly resurface. Like a workaholic with his to-do list, or the immoderate caretaker who’s just a touch too nosy, or me – the pushover.

It doesn’t define my entire existence, but in many cases I tend to bend to circumstance; I think it’s because I get scared that if there are too many cards stacked against me, there’s no use pushing through. It’s just too hard. I’ve written before about my jack-of-all-trades approach to hobbies and sports and, looking back, I realize that I quit most of them because some actual exertion of self was required. For example – I took one 3-week session of swim lessons when I was 7 or 8 and as soon as I was uncomfortable and uncertain, I withdrew and didn’t go back. Though each hobby/sport had its own surrounding situation, basically they were the same – too hard, uncertain, withdraw – wash, rinse, repeat. 

With each of my shortcomings, however, God has placed people in my life to counter them. In school, I didn’t have much of a will for excelling until I roomed with my best friend Erin our senior year. That girl had enough academic discipline for the whole campus and because of her example, my study habits improved drastically. Just married and set on being the queen of the castle, I was a pretty uptight bride to my altogether laid back groom. I had no idea how controlling I was until we tied the knot (I don’t think he did either), but after close to 5 years of life with Andrew, I’m learning to let go.

In the back of my mind, I think I’ve been aware of the pushover part of me, but my cognizance has grown keener in recent weeks; and just yesterday, I recognized another soul sent to draw me to closer to Christ and develop some backbone in the process.

My 2.5-year-old and I went to Mass separately from my husband and 16.5-month-old. At the 8 o’clock, I stood for the Creed and immediately blacked out, faint with intense Braxton Hicks (just over 3 weeks to go, by the way!). I sat down and quickly improved, though with some looming-yet-manageable dizziness – nothing new. Just when I was recovering, I looked at my little companion and saw him, umm…taking care of business. Potty training is new at our house and he’s never “done” anything outside our home bathroom. Long story short, after 20 minutes in the church restroom trying to encourage him (in vain) and continuing to fight against my about-to-pass-out sensation, I threw in the towel. “We’re going home,” I announced, and took my son by the hand out of the bathroom and through the vestibule.

I wanted to stay and I prayed over and over that God would make it possible. I wanted to receive Holy Communion and the final blessing, but truly, I also wanted to give up. In my mind, I had already made plans to go solo to the evening Mass. I’ll probably feel better, I justified, and no restroom emergencies. Walking out the front door, I held it open behind me for my son to follow. “WAIT,” I heard. I turned around and looked down at him, “Hey Mama, we needa finish church. I needa stay here pweez.” Eyes wide and mouth open with surprise, I nodded and followed my little boy back into Mass.

I sat taking very slow breaths for the rest of the Liturgy of the Eucharist  and somehow “going potty” wasn’t a pressing issue since he was waiting for home. I received Holy Communion and we were present for the final blessing. I don’t know what his motives were. He’s a toddler, so I assume the wide open space of the vestibule and seeing other little kids had something to do with it, but it doesn’t matter. We stayed. Still, I can’t get over how determined he was to remain through the end of Mass, or even his confidence in telling me that it was what we needed to do. Typically a pushover, I was readily obedient to such certitude, especially from someone whose little demands were so relevant to the on-goings of my soul.

And because this story is chock full of ’em, please draw one of the following lessons:

A) God speaks to us through our children and they are among those who help us most with our shortcomings.
B) God really, really doesn’t want us to leave Mass early.
C) Pushovers bend in the slightest breeze and need support to stand firm.
D) Lock your kid in the house until he’s totally potty trained – then you can take him out in public.