I would still rather use a traditional journal, but odds are high that it would be drawn in with permanent marker that bled through all the pages, fall into some void between furniture and become encrusted in a sticky AND crumby coating, and then end up sopping wet in the end, with all the necessary thoughts and emotions entirely irretrievable.
Tomorrow is Sunday.
Sundays hold a bit of trepidation for me that is on a level in between Field Day as a pudgy elementary school student with asthma and sweat issues, and first encounters of any sort. As that Sunday's come around regularly each week, this is rather sad. The anxiety part starts Friday evening, as children casually ask " Are we going to church this week?" It morphs from a little nibble in the corner of my mind to a quite large elephant size when, as the children are being put to bed and saying their prayers on Saturday, they ask if they could please, pretty please, attend church in the morning.
I don't have anything against church attendance. I am nothing if not pro-Jesus, having attended the Mormon church on Sundays, taught VBS at the Methodist church as well as led a mom's group (you know the one), and played softball for the local parish while attending Mass on Wednesdays. All at once. For years. You would think that maybe then I am just suffering a tad bit of church burn out. And perhaps I am a bit singed on the edges.
The reality is that getting five children up, fed, cleaned, and dressed for church, as well as making sure appropriate gear is gathered (Bibles, spare outfits, diaper bag) is exhausting and time consuming. Even if we lay out the clothes the night before, even if we get up three hours before we need to be at the church 15 minutes away, we never make it on time. We never have everything for everyone. Someone always cries. There is a fifty-fifty shot that someone is me. There is almost always a firm voice, gritted teeth, and sometimes even a yell.
In the past few years, my children's theological views have come into play as well as the differing ones I have with their father, which means that no matter where we attend, someone is going to be the voice of dissent, and that someone is probably one of the hands needed to help with the morning pre church circus.
I look at it, the yelling, the pomp and circumstance, the façade we put on that we are happy to be there, a happy family at that point in time, and that we generally wear our clothes inside right, and I think that this isn't what Jesus would want. He wants the children to be taught of Him, to follow the principles that He laid out for us like a road map. To teach them to help others, to share of what we have, both in gifts/talents and possessions with those around us, to forgive, and to love both in action and in word. But I don't think He wants children to be dragged, tear stained and uncomfortable, to church. I think that it hardens their hearts and closes their ears.
Each Sunday I do try to take them, but I also try to take the pulse of the family. This week I have a budding case of strep throat and over tired children from four days of fireworks exploding around our house and lighting our windows well past midnight. If we can get up and ready reasonably, we will go. If not, a suitable lesson and a Veggie tale video will have to do. Or maybe just a Veggie tale video. I might even settle for whatever they put on as long as I get to finish one complete cup of coffee.
I love you. and you are awesome. keep being the thoughtful person that you are.
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