You Kneel Amidst a Multitude of Holy Angels

That quote is talking about the Mass.  The more immediate reality for me at Mass is that I kneel amidst a bevy of busy boys.

We had a great weekend away.  I know that when I visit these friends we will laugh and eat until our sides ache.  (Al is the best cook I know and Kate is my funniest friend.)  We go to Mass at their church on Sunday morning.  Because of the many charismatic Catholics in the parish, the Mass is memorable for its exuberant spirit of praise.  It's also memorable for its perplexing proportion of preternaturally placid preschoolers.  Where do these kids come from, and how do they sit so still?

When my first son was a baby, the crusty old pastor of our church saw us coming in one morning and said, "You're sitting in the back, right?"  I could tell similar stories about my younger sons, but it gets too embarrassing.  One of my ongoing questions as a mother is  how to impart a love of the Mass to my children.  I view it as one of my most important responsibilities, but I'm a long, long way away from the goal.  In fact, if birth were Boston and joyful participation in Mass were San Diego, we would be in ugly traffic on the Garden State Parkway right now.

With my oldest son, we tried rewards after Mass when he behaved well.  They didn't work.  I was on the verge of introducing a complicated earn-a-sticker system when I read Barbara Coloroso's Kids Are Worth It.  I decided instead to do my best to set a reverent, prayerful example, and see what happened.  I said, feeling ridiculous, "The reward for behaving appropriately in Mass is the satisfaction of having done it."  It worked.  It was a turning point.

But it was only a beginning.  In spite of my determination not to get caught up in the Bad Spiral, in which I get angry and they figure, Hey, negative attention is better than no attention, and I get angrier and they think, Wow, Mom's really red in the face here -- who knew I could do that? and I approach the boiling point and they think -- I don't know what they think because by then coherent thought is beyond me.  Mostly I have learned to hop off that ride before the G-forces (G for grouchy) throw me back in my seat and compel me to stay on for the duration.  But not always.

There are three things complicating my efforts here.  One is that I grew up in a mainline Protestant denomination, where kids were always in the nursery during church.  Small children were not welcome until they could be quiet throughout the service.  As a result, I have struggled with developing good standards for my kids.  How noisy is too noisy?  How close to the front do you sit, keeping in mind both that they behave better when they can see and that the aisle gets very long when you are escorting a shrieking child to the entryway during the consecration?  (It's always during the consecration, isn't it?)  What's the right balance between helping them to settle down in the pew and whisking them out so they don't distract others, especially once they learn that Making Noise = Going to the Back Where I Can Run Around and Entertain the Ushers?

Second:  I try not to rely on snacks or toys as diversions during Mass.  The bigger boys are old enough not to need them -- I want them to recognize the Mass as a feast, and who brings Cheetos to a king's feast? -- but they can't ignore them if they're available in the pew.  Sometimes this raises issues with other families, like the day of my miscarriage when I was crying and distracted and didn't notice Joe moving in on another boy's raisins.  "My raisins," shouted the boy.  "MO! Mah wah!" Joe replied.  [In case it wasn't clear, that's "No, my raisins," and not a plea to go to godforsaken northern New Jersey.]  (The next day we were having coffee with the priest after Dominic's burial and he asked us how our kids did during Mass.  "Did you hear those kids in the second row yesterday?" he asked.  "Well, Father, that was our kid in the second row yesterday."  He quickly backpedaled and said that he was glad to see families in Mass, even noisy families, but I'm not convinced that was his original intent.)

Third:  I find that church services can be public mothering at its most brutal.  Sometimes it feels like everybody's got an opinion on what your kid should be able to do and how you should make him do it if he can't manage independently.  I hate that.  If someone mutters under his breath, "That kid needs a good spanking," I want to say, "Hey, I am not going to teach my kid about the love of God by whacking him for acting his age," but I also want to curl up in a ball and cry.  Because I am trying to get us to San Diego, honestly I am.  There is traffic and construction and my kids hate long drives, but I am plugging along the best I can.  One way or another we are going to get there, and I would really appreciate your patience on the days when it seems like we're lost in Bergen County.

Some weeks I sit in Mass and pray for humility because my children are frustrating me so much that I can't imagine anything else good coming from the experience.  And sometimes there are surprises.  Two weeks ago in Mass I was sure that I was an awful mother.  I felt that I was failing conspicuously at the most important thing I wanted to do, and I couldn't even look my neighbor in the eye at the sign of peace.  She smiled and said gently, "It's okay.  We had seven children."  She assures me they can all sit still at Mass these days.

***

While we were at our friends' house, Joe figured out how to put /k/ at the ends of words.  He's so pleased with himself.  I am, too, but I have one tiny regret.  It used to be that when I asked him during the week where Daddy was he would say, "Yurt."  (You might remember he has no /w/ and he used to substitute /t/ for /k/.)  I imagined my husband telling me that he was heading downtown into his world of market analyses and hedging formulae but secretly slipping off to Mongolia to herd yaks.  No wonder his hours are so long!  That's a nasty commute right there!  These days, though, Daddy leaves for yurk in the mornings -- no more yak-herding for him.

I started this post with angels and ended with yaks.  Too bad my husband wasn't herding zebras -- we could have gone from A to Z.  I guess A to Y will have to do.

Comments

[Summer]

I've just got the one kid, but I can relate to so much of what you've written. Consecration? Yeah, that's when Dorian typically indicates a need to go potty, and miracles or not, when a toddler indicates a need to go potty Mama needs to MOVE.

We're very lucky, though, because Dorian typically is very good at Mass. Our church is designated a black Catholic church (though we're far from being the only pale faces in the congregation) and we usually go to the gospel Mass because it's fun and Dorian loves the music. Our parish is very friendly -- the sign of the peace takes ten minutes as everyone moves up and down the aisle shaking hands -- and Dorian spends much of the Mass smiling and waving at the people around us. That's fine with me, because I think the community aspect of the Mass is important.

We tend to sit about halfway back, in the same place we always sat even when we were a family of two. We've got good friends in our parish with a daughter a month younger than Dorian. When our kids were infants, they informed us that they believe that it's best for them to keep sitting right up front, so that the child is on display and must be perfectly behaved. Well, guess what? Now that she's a toddler, the family sits in the very back, and I frequently see the father standing behind all the pews, watching his daughter as she wanders around. At least our kid stays in the pew with us! (Unless he has to go potty, of course.)

I'm particularly proud of the system we've worked out for dealing with Dorian during Communion. I let Vince go ahead of me in line, and I carry Dorian. When I get to the priest or minister, I pin his arms down so he can't snag a wafer off of the plate. Then when I get to the minister with the wine, I hand him off to Vince, who has already recieved the Blood. It works, but it's a complex maneuver involving two parents. I'm not sure how well we'll deal when our children equal or exceed our numbers....

[Allie]

I just happened across your journal by following links from the Made by Mom webring (I think it was that one...). Just wanted to drop a note and say hi and that I've enjoyed the entries I've read so far!

[AmyinMotown]

You...you take your kids out when they fuss during the Consecration? I bet you don't let their piercing screeches drown out the homily either. And I think I might love you for that reason.

Our church is also a "black Catholic" church although in reality I'd say the congregation is about half and half;however, in the church I grew up in in my very segregated city, you never would have guessed there were black people in the pews, so joyless it was. This church we go to now respects and honors the traditions of its black members instead of expecting them to fit to a tradtional mold. This leads to praise dancers (oy vey) but also to a wonderful, joyous Mass that children enjoy because they don't have to be quiet throughout.

I am still eagerly awaiting my first and my friends from church with kids don't do anything inconsiderate, so let me ask this rhetorically: What are parents thinking who do not enforce decent standards of behavior in church? I know it's so easy to look at things from the vantage point of childlessness and say ""my kids would never" when I know full well they will, and worse, but when I am breaking up a fight among a woman's six children while she sits placidly staring ahead, there's a problem and I am not it.

[Denise]

" perplexing proportion of preternaturally placid preschoolers"

I so enjoy your writing! :-)

[Jamie]

Summer and Amy, best of luck with your kids in church. Summer, I would guess that by the time you have another little one who needs guidance as you receive Communion, Dorian will be big enough to know that he should not get crazy with the chalice. Of course by then he may have fun new tricks to keep you busy in the pew, but hey -- it keeps life interesting, right?

Amy, I have really been humbled by trying to teach my children about the Mass. You'll have to let me know how it goes for your family. (But you're having a girl, right? So maybe we can hope she'll be a little less wiggly?)

Allie and Denise, glad you're enjoying the blog. Hope to see more of you.

[Nancy]

LOL!
I can truly sympathize. I have 11 children total, and one due in March. 3 don't live at home anymore, so we just have 8 to take to church with us now. My first 2 girls were practically saints- or at least I can say that now! Then came the 3rd, then the boys...sigh. I have spent many times in the back of church trying to keep a child or two quiet. As teens, the boys are a little better, but they still take pride in poking each other, etc during mass at times. Despite you thinking "they are old enough to know better" which of course they are one level,they still haven't reached a point spiritually where they understand things and they are not yet at a point where they can appreciate the beauty of the service. THAT is what I pray for. I want them to know and understand, but sometimes I have to sit and shake my head, wondering *when* that will happen. I can tell you it won't happen by taking them out of church, and I for one appreciate it when someone else helps me tell/get the kids to behave. It sometimes comes much better - and gets a better reaction- from someone other than the parent!

We have a somewhat unique situation because we are Eastern Catholic- Byzantine/Ruthenian. The church where we just moved is Ukranian- VERY Ukranian, so the liturgy that we are used to singing in English is all done in Ukranian here and my kids don't understand a lot- one trade off though is that all Eastern Rite Churches communicate children, so it is difficult for us to take the little ones to an English/Latin Rite mass when they can't get communion there. They don't understand. Our children have all been baptized, confirmed and received Holy Eucharist since they were infants. When it comes time for communion, every one of them behave, so we are fortunate in that.

I have met a few old crotchities in my time, and also a few younger couples who either A) don't have children or B) are blessed with the kind that sit still and act like saints- & who may express disapproval, but though comments and glares may hurt, in the end it is WE who have to return home with our kids and hope *something* sinks in. I keep reminding myself that God gave us these particular children with these particular personalities, so He must figure we are the right parents for them. All we can do is pray that He not let us make too many big boo-boos! (and the other maybe not so charitable thought that I must confess sometimes crosses my mind, esp with the "know-it-alls", is, don't worry, someday you too will find out!)