Tears

I almost cried yesterday morning during church services. No, not the SOB kind of tears but the pringly watering eyes of JOY kind of tears. You see, I went down to the two-year-old Bible class, retrieved my son, and escorted him to the nursery. I went in; he didn't. He stood in the hall with tears in his eyes. "Come on, Mikey," I urged.

"No, Mommy."

For the last month, my husband and I have been retrieving him early trying to train him for the main service. It hasn't been much of a success. Usually, it involves me getting Mikey, me talking to him about 'inside voice/no voice' in the foyer, and then the minute I enter the auditorium, Mikey yells, "Daddy!" Then, back to the nursery we go.

So, yesterday, when I had this little guy standing in the hallway with tears in his eyes because he wanted to stay with us, I made a decision: Let's try it.
My husband eyes us with worry as we entered the auditorium. I explained quickly, and Don said, "He'll last five minutes."

"Honnnneeeyyyyy."
Secretly, I agreed.

Our little guy made it 25 minutes!

I'm a Mommy-Come-Lately. I found that term on the Internet before Mikey was born. See, I was 43 when the rabbit died and 44 when this little perfect being was put in my arms. I spend a good deal of my time worrying about whether I'm too lenient, too hard, too- well, too everything. I've been convinced lately that Mikey might be twenty before he's calm enough to sit during service - if then.

Yesterday, sitting there in church, with my son in the middle, my husband on the end, I got tears in my eyes. No, not the SOB kind of tears but the pringly watering eyes of JOY kind of tears. You see, I went down to the two-year-old Bible class, retrieved my son, and we joined my husband in worship.