Sitting in church on Sunday morning so thankful to be with friends, singing, praying, and thankful to have the opportunity to take communion. I looked down our row with tears in my eyes as Hubby was explaining what was about to happen in communion to our newest son. That is when I happened to glance at Little Man who was happily serving part of his communion bread to his plastic dinosaur.
There are moments. Moments when I shake my head and wonder if all that we are teaching our kids is sinking in.
With my sternest mommy look and my “I mean business even though I am whispering” voice I said. “Little Man, Dinosours do not get communion!”
There are moments. Moments when things come out of my mouth that I can not even believe that I am saying. Really? Do we need to explain this? I looked nervously around to see who was catching my son in the act. While traditions surrounding kids and communion differ, our heritage has allowed children to particiate when ready. We have always been firm believers in explaining sacraments to our kids, and when they believe, we have them participate alongside us. In that moment I could see the other side – why our practice could be questioned!
Little Man’s response to my stern whisper in not such a whisper voice. (He really is our loudest child and is not capable of whispering.) “Mom, EVERYONE needs to be reminded of what Jesus did for us.”
So I let my seven year old finish his communion and share the juice with his favorite T-Rex. There is room in our traditions and rituals for children to show us the way.
There are moments when I realize that this parenting thing is hard, but these kids might turn out okay after all. But then again, as I am typing this my three year old has a plastic triceratops stuck up his nose digging out snot. No spiritual justification for that one. My work is not done.