Lord, You SAID, Let the little ones come to me . . . .
Turtle is at youth choir practice. We have about 35 minutes left to wait before she is finished. There is 40-Hour Adoration going on in the church and I haven't been able to visit yet. The 3 younger kids have been fed and watered and prepped on genuflecting with two knees. Everyone is agreeable. Let's go in, shall we?
We slither into the back pew, bumping around with our umbrellas and sweaters. Each child has a pocket full of change for the votive candle offering.
Someone, in a stage whisper: "Let's go light our candles, Mom!"
Me: "You can. Nooo, not up the aisle, people are praying. Go around the back."
Pitter patter of little feet around the back of the church. . . er, actually clomp, clomp is more like it.
Many coins clank. Three votives lit.
Sparky: "Wanna do annnuther one!"
Me: "Just one."
Sparky: "Nuuuuther one!"
Me: "No"
Sparky proceeds to play with the lighting stick, taking it in and out of the gray colored sand at the votives. It's not too disruptive so I let him.
Sunshine wanders off. She's on the other side of the church.
Rosebud: "Mom, what's this book?" (It's the petition book for the image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help.) "Can I write in it?"
Me: "Sure."
Rosebud: "What should I write?"
Me: "A prayer, asking for something, or saying thank you for something."
Sunshine, who is back now: "Moooooom, Sparky is . . . Sparky is . . . .oooooh, noooo, Moom, he's pouring tons of ashes on me."
Sparky has managed to turn a stick into a scoop (?) and has scooped a cascade of gray sand down Sunshine's shirt.
I brush and soothe her wounded feelings. I grab Sparky and plop in a nearby pew waiting for Rosebud. Sigh.
Rosebud: "Mom, how do you spell 'brother'? Is it B-R-O-T-H-E-R?"
Me: "Yes. Sparky, do you have to go poop?"
Sparky: "No. no. I jusss tooted."
Sunshine starts to wander off again. I hiss at her. "No. Stay here! Choose a spot where you'd like to be and stay there."
Sunshine, whining: "I wanna be over therrrrre."
Me: "Fine. Just stay . . . . Sparky! Do you have a poop?"
Sparky: [Sheepish smile]
Rosebud: "How do you spell 'trust'?"
An inspection of the back of a certain boy's underwear reveals a tell-tale lump. I scoop him up.
Rosebud: "MOM. How do you spell 'trust'?"
Me: "T-R-U-S-T. Sunshine, come here!"
Sunshine, wandering again, "What, Mom, you said I could . . ."
Me: " Come with me!"
Sunshine: "Whyyyyy, Mom . . . "
Me, hissing: "Because I need your HELP."
Sunshine, follows me, Sparky and the smell of poop out into the vestibule. I don't know what Rosebud is doing. I don't have any wipes or clean underwear. They are out in the car. I get him onto the toilet, remove offending underwear, wipe up an errant pee spray, tell Sunshine to stay with Sparky and lock the door. Then I run out of the church, leaving my 5 year and 2 year old in the bathroom.
I race back with the diaper bag. Sunshine lets me into the bathroom with the words "Mom, he's wiping his own self!!"
Crap. Its on his hands. And the toilet seat. And there are only three wipes left. I clean legs, hands, butt, toilet seat as best I can, and stuff poopy undies in a bag.
He won't let me put his boots on, so he plops down on the floor to do it himself.
Cringe. Cringe. I can't even look.
We wash hands. Twice over for Sparky.
As I exit the bathroom I glance back. So so sorry, person coming next into this bathroom. You can't see any mess but toilet paper doesn't disinfect.
Rosebud is traipsing around vestibule. The kids want to go BACK into the church. Sparky starts banging the big doors in his frustration that I won't let him. I fumble for my phone. 4:01. Thank you, God, it's time to pick up Turtle.
"Oh, Sunshine, go back in and get the umbrella and the sweaters in the pew! Now!"
At last, we leave the Church and I can breathe again.
This is why, even outside your very front door, Lord, its so very hard to go in.
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