You know what's classy? Rolling out of bed after a late night of karaoke* at Clare & Don's Beach Shack, stuffing your toddler into a starchy white shirt and dress pants, and forcing him to accompany you on your biannual appearance at church in honor of Easter.
I have a little complex when it comes to church. My family went pretty regularly for the first 10 years of my life. However, deaths in the family, divorce, and relatives moving away eventually dissolved our motivation to attend. I WAS proud that we still made it every Christmas Eve and Easter, until my devoted friend James (of ski weekend surprise fame) casually said that we were on the "C&E Plan," implying that we were, I don't know, fair-weather Christians?
Anyhow, my complex has nothing to do with not liking church. It's just that every time my family attended we were always bombarded by well-intentioned individuals handing us "Newcomer" packets and welcoming us to a church we had been attending for over a decade. I guess our biannual C&E appearances were not enough to make people remember us. I know they were just being friendly, but always being mistaken for a newcomer began to wear on me and make me feel like I wasn't attending enough church (which, I will admit, was an accurate assessment).
Later on, when I went away to college in Baltimore, I tried a few more churches. The highlight of my "search for a church" was walking into one and seeing a classmate of mine banging away at a set of bongos while wearing a Bill Cosby sweater. Especially entertaining was the fact that I had no idea he even attended that church until I saw him drumming away.
A few years later, a friend introduced me to a wonderful place back in Massachusetts after I moved back home. It's called New England Chapel and I would recommend it to anyone in the area. But then I moved to New York... then Maryland... then DC... and finally Falls Church, VA.
Today I chose the church pretty much based on the fact that its service didn't interfere with my son, Grant's, nap schedule (priorities) and the two of us ventured out while my husband took his visiting parents to see the Air and Space Museum.
I passed a very crowded (and stunning) Greek Orthodox church on the way and was a little shocked to pull into an ALMOST EMPTY parking lot at the Baptist church. Oh great, how did I screw this up? I wondered as I carried my bowling-ball-marshmallow-dough boy of a son through some low-lit empty hallways. I made it up to the main worship room place (clearly I am well-versed in church architecture)and found that I was the only one there who didn't work there. The room was almost EMPTY, despite that it was ten minutes before their Easter Service was set to begin.
Long story short, more people showed up and I was soon greeted and welcomed to the church by all of them. We stayed through most of the service as Grant ran around, tested some sound equipment, danced his spastic-toddler jig, and for the grand finale made his way to the stage and put his hand straight down the front of his pants. Ladies and Gentlemen, MY SON!
Fortunately, everyone was very laid-back and entertained by Grant, and I even ran into a mother I had met months back at our local library. It was nice, but I fear maybe a little out of our way to go to on a a regular basis. Plus, if I become a regular, I won't get the star newcomer treatment that I've grown accustomed to. Yes, better stick with my original plan: sporadic visits to churches where no one knows me...
")
*My husband and I graced everyone's ears at Clare & Don's with a lovely rendition of "Truckin'" by the Grateful Dead. A sweet, tipsy 22-yr-old made a point of telling us that he had never heard that song. Kids today!
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