Saturday morning
aaahhh...cannot...think. House is full of chattering, giggling, little girls scampering everywhere. Nieces as far as the eye can see. In spite of my lack of exuberance for general partying, i have been declared to be a fun aunt, because i make excellent pizza. And because i left them drink soda to their heart’s content and stay up late to watch movies. Well, it is a party. I’m not totally heartless. (...although there will be what we refer to as a “Great Picking-Up” in my house, at promptly one half hour before time for the partiers to leave. Or sooner, depending upon the level of disaster that has been generated till then. This will be necessary to restore a semblance of sanity for me.)
I cannot figure out why my nieces seem to like me so much (or at all), but it is pretty flattering. (They also all guessed my age at 30, and said they only guessed me to be that old because they knew I was out of my 20’s.) And they all showed proper shock and astonishment when I told them i was 35. So, in spite of the fact that I sometimes feel really old--especially on days like today when I am hosting a 10th birthday party for my little girl--maybe i don’t seem quite as old as I feel at times?
Sunday afternoon
Quiet again. Well, relatively quiet. Extra little girls restored to their respective homes last evening; tired, happy, and full of sugar. This afternoon there is tentative piano music in our house by the 13 year old as he practices. Lame, bland, boring, kids’ video in background in the other room for the other two kids, volume just low enough so as not to be disruptive to the pianist. I can feel my I.Q. dropping a few points as i inadvertently listen to the video, in spite of concerted effort to block it out and write. Effort not terribly effective.
I truly did have a good time with my daughter and nieces this weekend. We watched old Shirley Temple movies and Little Orphan Annie--girly movies that always draw much protest from her brothers. What fun to watch with a bunch of other little someones who also enjoy girly movies. When the movies were done, there were suddenly little girls throughout my house from attic to cellar (actually, I quickly put a stop to playing in the damp, dark cellar...) all playing that they were little orphans. I kept hearing “we love you, Miss Hannigan!” in chorus, just like in the movie. Many rounds of Dutch Blitz were played; they took turns on Super Mario Bros and bowling on the wii...in general, it seemed like a good time was had by all. Even the boring, sometimes stuffy, old aunt had a good time (still basking in the pizza compliment). After the party was done, we topped it off with an evening at a church roller skating party that just happened to fall on my little princess’s birthday weekend. The weekend went out in a blaze of glory; we all dropped into bed exhausted on Saturday night.
But by this morning, I was DONE. I had been so proud of myself and how well I had been doing. No panic attacks; i was holding it together like a normal mama in spite of happy chaos of a little girl sleepover...even playing a few games with the girls and carrying on conversations, not just giving instructions. We don't do birthday parties often; but a 10th birthday is pretty special. My daughter had been looking forward to this party for months. I was grateful for a wonderful time for her. Sometimes I wonder how much she realizes and is affected by her mom's limitations. More than I see on the surface, i am quite sure. So i was grateful that I could be just a normal mom for her party. And later, I was grateful to be enjoying, not just enduring, the roller skating party.
But suddenly, as I walked into our tiny, bright, Sunday School room this morning, I was absolutely, positively DONE. Done with noise, done with crowds, done with groups of people. Our Sunday School class is held in a small room, and any noise is magnified. Laughter, chatting, squealing babies...when it all comes together, to me, it all seems to be one big noise, even on a good day. For someone who has a tough time with noise, and small rooms, and crying babies, and being easily overwhelmed by a lot of people...the room has a tendency to shrink very quickly. Somehow, I got through the Sunday School hour. I tried to be polite. When I realized I was closing my eyes and leaning my head on my hands to close out the world (I do this without even thinking about it sometimes), I hauled my eyelids open and tried to look normal again. People don’t tend to be extremely understanding of someone shutting down and fleeing a room because the group was talking and laughing. Groups of people do that. What kind of rotten person cannot handle laughter? Especially at church. We are supposed to be joyful, right? In my case, I am no kind of joyful on a Sunday morning, and it has nothing to do with a lack of love for God. It has nothing to do with a heart not being right with Him. It is my brain and my mind, not my heart.
At one point I excused myself from Sunday School for a drink of water and basked for a few minutes in the cool darkness of the deserted gym where the water fountain was; and as soon as the clock was close to the end of class, high-tailed it out of that tiny, bright, terribly loud room. But after the Sunday School hour is church. If anything, church is worse.
For the most part, I don’t like church. Especially the late service, which has more people, more talking, more fussy kids, and louder music. My husband and kids have a decided aversion to getting up early enough to be at church for an early service (which is a sacrifice I would be willing to make...but...that’s neither here nor there). It is so very hard to mesh the normal noise and activity of church with a panic disorder. There is nowhere quiet to go. The auditorium is full of people and the music is loud. In the nursery there are crying babies. Aaaack. In the library, there are people walking through to get from point A to point B. So well-meaning people ask why you are sitting there. The truth is usually met with bafflement or pity, neither of which is helpful. So sometimes i ignore the question or just say that our bench is full. Which it is. In the basement, it is impossible to hear the sermon. And then, after announcements and prayer, the toddlers come to the basement for Toddler‘s Church. Oh, no, not the basement; absolutely not. So, anyway, i rest my case--there is just nowhere quiet to go, that still allows a person to be part of the group.
In a large church like ours, where a person cannot get to know everyone, it is impossible to expect understanding from the general group of people. I go to church because of my kids. I want them to grow up attending church and Sunday School. I want them to see that regular corporate worship is important.
I enjoy the study in Sunday School, when the class is quiet and we are holding discussion on the topic at hand...which, i have to admit in all fairness, is most of the time. I have learned so much there; and sometimes the verses we are studying are exactly what I need that day. While i have my difficult days (like this week), Sunday School is, in general, not as difficult as church. But church is, at best, not easy; and at worst, a dreaded ordeal. Sometimes I think, “God, how wrong is this? Why do I feel this way? Everything a person hears from pastors and Bible teachers says that we should be glad to go to the house of the Lord.” I wish I were.
It will get better. It will not always be winter. It will not always be cold, damp, dark, and miserable outside. I will not host a birthday party every weekend. Sooner or later, my hubby will have a weekend off work again and can attend church with us. (His weekends off are few and far between.) Better days will come.
And until those better days come, I refuse to let myself go on a guilt trip over my lack of enthusiasm for church. Does not He who made me know my mind and heart better than I know it myself? Does He hold my weaknesses against me? No. He allows them so that I may know Him better. So that I will lean on Him and not my own strength. I will rest in that. I will keep making the effort to go to church, although there will probably be some days when I just can’t do it and decide to stay home. I hope that someday, I will be glad to go to the house of the Lord. But for now, I will find my rest and comfort in sitting at His feet in the quiet of the weekday mornings. In caring for my family, in all the little jobs that He blesses, even when they seem endless. In seeing pictures of Him in the world around me. This is where He has placed me, right now. This is the weakness He allows, right now, to refine me. And it is ok. All is not well, right now, but all shall be well.
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