I love going to church. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, even though coffee is served, but the combination of music, people's faces, and the life stories woven together with scripture rejuvenate me. Added to all that is the tenderness of watching Benjamin light the candles, and it's where I want to be on Sunday
morning.
Yet being part of a conglomerate of four to six people under one roof means that our timeliness is compromised. I am usually in the car, waiting, for that last person to finish their toast or brush their teeth.
Sometimes we roll through the door as the music team is finishing one of my favorite songs and it amplifies my annoyance. I missed it. There is no rewind in real time, as is possible in many other arenas of life,
such as movies and Spotify.
So I try to nudge, not shove people in the direction of the driveway with minutes to spare.
Last week was complicated. Zack left early in one car to run the livestream. The twins were in bed, not yet ready to jump into a week of staffing for camp up the road. I had shepherded Benjamin into a passenger seat but John was hesitating.
"What if the girls need a
car?"
I sighed.
"Then we will lend them one after church."
He was unconvinced. He climbed two sets of stairs to ask if they did indeed need wheels, which they did.
I waited while they discussed this, and one of them drove with us to church so that she could keep it.
On the one hand, I feel like my expectations are reasonable. Mom goes to church.
Work around it if you want a car. But there was that raspberry-seed-in-your-teeth feeling that while I was bent on getting to hear the message about helping others, John was actively doing it.
We did get there at the end of the first song. Benjamin shared three cogent comments. The girls presumably arrived with their suitcases to camp.
Maybe I can learn from this, as it appears to be a recurring dilemma. Next week I'll
walk.
