This letter (below) was a blog post that originally appeared on I Am Totally *That* Mom a few years ago (http://www.iamtotallythatmom.blogspot.com/2013/05/dear-parents-with-young-children-in.html). It captures my thoughts so well. Not only does the staff at Trinity applaud you, but we encourage you to keep it up! – Pastor Megan Dear Parents with Young Children in Church, You are doing something really, really important. I know it's not easy. I see you with your arms overflowing, and I know you came to church already tired. Parenting is tiring. Really tiring. I watch you bounce and sway trying to keep the baby quiet, juggling the infant car seat and the diaper bag as you find a seat. I see you wince as your child cries. I see you anxiously pull things out of your bag of tricks to try to quiet them. And I see you with your toddler and your preschooler. I watch you cringe when your little girl asks an innocent question in a voice that might not be an inside voice let alone a church whisper. I hear the exasperation in your voice as you beg your child to just sit, to be quiet as you feel everyone's eyes on you. Not everyone is looking, but I know it feels that way. I know you're wondering, is this worth it? Why do I bother? I know you often leave church more exhausted than fulfilled. But what you are doing is so important. When you are here, the church is filled with a joyful noise. When you are here, the Body of Christ is more fully present. When you are here, we are reminded that this worship thing we do isn't about bible study or personal, quiet contemplation but coming together to worship as a community where all are welcome, where we share in the Word and Sacrament together. When you are here, I have hope that these pews won't be empty in 10 years when your kids are old enough to sit quietly and behave in worship. I know that they are learning how and why we worship now, before it's too late. They are learning that worship is important. I see them learning. In the midst of the cries, whines, and giggles, in the midst of the crinkling of pretzel bags and the growing pile of crumbs, I see a little girl who insists on going two pews up to share peace with someone she's never met. I hear a little boy slurping (quite loudly) every last drop of his communion wine out of the cup, determined not to miss a drop of Jesus. I watch a child excitedly color a cross and point to the one in the front of the sanctuary. I hear the echoes of "Amens" just a few seconds after the rest of the community says it together. I watch a boy just learning to read try to sound out the words in the worship book or count his way to Hymn 672. Even on weeks when I can't see my own children learning because, well, it's one of those mornings; I can see your children learning. I know how hard it is to do what you're doing, but I want you to know it matters. It matters to me. It matters to my children to not be alone in the pew. It matters to the congregation to know that families care about faith, to see young people... and even on those weeks when you can't see the little moments, it matters to your children. It matters that they learn that worship is what we do as a community of faith, that everyone is welcome, that their worship matters. When we teach children that their worship matters, we teach them that they are enough right here and right now as members of the church community. They don't need to wait until they can believe, pray or worship a certain way to be welcome here, and I know adults who are still looking to be shown that. It matters that children learn that they are an integral part of this church, that their prayers, their songs, and even their badly (or perfectly-timed, depending on who you ask) cries and whines are a joyful noise because it means they are present. I know it's hard, but thank you for what you do when you bring your children to church. Please know that your family -- with all of its noise, struggle, commotion, and joy -- are not simply tolerated, you are a vital part of the community gathered in worship.
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Dear lovely people of Trinity, The end of summer has arrived and it always means it’s time for my annual visit the eye doctor. I guess I never got out of my ‘new school year prep’ routine. Lucky me and this year I needed to update my prescription. Let’s hope this astigmatism stabilizes some day soon or things could get interesting. After trying on just about every frame in the office, I had a nice little pile of ‘maybes’. I made my way through the pile a few times and just could not make a decision. Should I get something pretty similar to what I have now? Should I take advantage of the opportunity to try something totally different? Can I get away with that color? People still need to respect me after all 😊 Erik basically just said, no glitter. The lady helping me was very kind, but she needed to move on with her day, so she suggested I take the frames home for a week in a nifty case. I’m not a particularly indecisive person. Especially when it comes to things that, at the end of the day, are not the most consequential. I just need a pair of glasses that are comfortable, make me feel confident, and that make all the blurry things crisp and clear. These kinds of decisions are not usually a problem for me, but day three with the frames and the nifty case and still no decision and I was beginning to wonder why I was making this so hard. Do you ever find there are times when you have undergone a lot of change and all of a sudden you just can’t handle even the idea of a small change? Do you ever find yourself tired out after making a number of challenging decisions in life and even small decisions become way harder than normal? This has been true for me in the past, but I really didn’t realize that I was feeling fatigued in this way until my total lack of ability to simply pick a pair of eye glasses. I think this phenomenon often occurs in congregations as well. Even at times when we might feel excited about the prospect of a change, when it comes down to the particulars, when it comes down to making decisions, big or small, taking the plunge can be way harder than it needs to be. It’s ok. We all have our limits. But I think in those moments it helps to pay attention. It helps to stop, make note, and ask honest questions when the inability to make simple decisions or implement simple changes becomes debilitating. We can investigate what might be standing in our way. We can share our observations with someone we trust. We can laugh at ourselves for how absurd daily life often is! It’s amazing how disarming it can be, for all the things we build up in our minds, to ask, “Why am I taking this so seriously?” For all the big and all the little things that you attend to each day as we make our way into fall, I pray for moments of clarity, breaths of refreshing grace, and a whole lot of cleansing laughter. Yours in Christ, Pastor Megan Dear Friends, Erik and I have moved around a lot in the nearly 6 years we have been married. Jobs, graduate school, new adventures, and trying to find our place in the world led us to people and places we never would have predicted. (I mean, who plans to move to Iowa 😊.) As much fun as we’ve had at our annual summer rendezvous with moving trucks, it has been very nice to know that this year our boxes can stay snugly in storage. One of the perks of being rooted in a place is our garden. We’ve only been able to have the odd tomato plant in a pot in the past, so this year we decided to take the plunge and plant ALL the vegetables. That’s right, peppers, cucumbers, squash, cabbage, broccoli, tomatoes, onions, sweet corn, Brussels sprouts, to name a few. We figured, at least one or two of those plants would do well. It turns out, we have had a very productive year. We have vegetables literally exploding over the fence and into the yard. I didn’t grow up with a vegetable patch. My parent’s yard had too many large shade trees, but Erik’s dad has always been an avid gardener. A month or so back I was asking his advice on thinning out some of the plants we had started from seed. We had sown thick patches of lettuce and carrots, and if we didn’t thin the small plants, they would simply choke each other out before they could produce. At least that was what my new gardening book told me. I understood the concept, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for tearing out these new plants and tossing them in the compost pile. It felt like such a waste. “Never feel bad about thinning, or pruning,” he said. “Gardens are abundant.” Abundance – admittedly this is not a word that surfaces in my vocabulary very often. So uncommon is my awareness of abundance in this life that when it appeared in my garden, I didn’t even see it as good. I perceived it as a problem. I felt guilty about it! It made me wonder - where else in my life do I overlook abundance? Where else do I see pure gift and blessing and interpret it as a burden? Maybe you can relate? As we move into the final weeks of summer, I pray for those moments where the gifts shine brighter than my grievances, where the small treasures bring contentment over my selfish troubles, and where those signs of God’s abundance and immense care speak sweeter than my fears and preoccupations. May God’s abundance root in us gratitude and sow seeds of generosity and love. In Christ, Pastor Megan |
AuthorPastor Megan finds that she rarely has all the right answers, but tries to help her community ask better questions. Archives
July 2021
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