Our church doesn’t have a nursery. One week, when Andrew was away on business, I went to services with three young kids and a newborn.
Mary, who was three at the time, was acting like, well, a toddler. She wasn’t being noisy, just wiggly and giggly. But without my husband there, I couldn’t very well abandon the others and take her out.
After a while, the lady next to us started to shoot me dirty looks. They were of the Why aren’t you making her behave? variety. If you’re a mom, you know that glare: It’s the one that makes you feel desperately self-conscious and inadequate.
Whatever I was doing to manage the situation wasn’t enough for my neighbor in the pew; she clearly resented my presence. As my stress level soared, I cried out inwardly to God, Lord, I’m here because I love you, and I want my children to love you, too! Help me!
The woman next to us tsk-tsk’ed at something. I turned to her and smiled gently. “I’m having a hard time here,” I said quietly, using words that could only have come from heaven. “Could I ask you to pray for me?”
The woman looked startled, and then her face softened. She nodded and bent her head. Her judgmental attitude disappeared; my stress level decreased. Together, we worshipped as best we could, under the circumstances.
Lesson learned: If someone is stressing you at church, ask him or her to pray for you. And if you are distracted or upset by people at church, pray for them. We’re all in this together.
