The Sunday morning craziness is real. Just like the Igniter Media Sunday Morning video shows, shoes disappear, wardrobes malfunction, toast burns, and coffee spills. We can get it together Monday through Friday mornings, but Sundays bring an extra layer of complication. Do they have to?
I have 3 daughters, and have had my fair share of complicated Sunday mornings. But after reading Parenting in the Pew, our mornings were sometimes (let’s be honest – it’s still child-wrangling) the very best part of our week. As Robbie Castleman suggested, I started with my own attitude about worship. And another true confession: I decided to fake it until it was true. At every reasonable opportunity, I declared my love for worship. I told the girls how grateful I was that God invites us to worship him, and that worship is a privilege I am delighted to enjoy. During the service I made an effort to sing joyfully (much to the dismay of my children, who repeatedly shushed me), pray fervently, and appreciate the glory and mystery of the Eucharist. After a few weeks, I was no longer making an effort – worship really was a joyful gift. The children noticed.
Throughout the week, I would mention that I was looking forward to Sunday and our family being together in worship. On Saturday, we picked out the clothes for Sunday morning, discussing what would show respect for God and make the day special. We ate simple breakfasts, or ate at church. While in the pew, it was a time for us to be together. We held hands, snuggled up next to each other, and generally allowed that time to bring us together.
Some weeks we did great at this. Sunday mornings were calmer, and our time in the pew was genuinely joyful. Some weeks the wheels came off, shoes were thrown in the car, and the front row decision made the walk out of church with a crying child much longer than I would have wanted. But now I cherish worship with my family . . . most of the time. And what started as an exercise in teaching my children to worship taught me to worship too.
I have 3 daughters, and have had my fair share of complicated Sunday mornings. But after reading Parenting in the Pew, our mornings were sometimes (let’s be honest – it’s still child-wrangling) the very best part of our week. As Robbie Castleman suggested, I started with my own attitude about worship. And another true confession: I decided to fake it until it was true. At every reasonable opportunity, I declared my love for worship. I told the girls how grateful I was that God invites us to worship him, and that worship is a privilege I am delighted to enjoy. During the service I made an effort to sing joyfully (much to the dismay of my children, who repeatedly shushed me), pray fervently, and appreciate the glory and mystery of the Eucharist. After a few weeks, I was no longer making an effort – worship really was a joyful gift. The children noticed.
Throughout the week, I would mention that I was looking forward to Sunday and our family being together in worship. On Saturday, we picked out the clothes for Sunday morning, discussing what would show respect for God and make the day special. We ate simple breakfasts, or ate at church. While in the pew, it was a time for us to be together. We held hands, snuggled up next to each other, and generally allowed that time to bring us together.
Some weeks we did great at this. Sunday mornings were calmer, and our time in the pew was genuinely joyful. Some weeks the wheels came off, shoes were thrown in the car, and the front row decision made the walk out of church with a crying child much longer than I would have wanted. But now I cherish worship with my family . . . most of the time. And what started as an exercise in teaching my children to worship taught me to worship too.