Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

We were running late to church.

I applied the eye shadow at one stop light, mascara at the next. Now to find the lipstick. I rummaged through my purse with one hand.

My 9-year-old started scolding. Mommy, stop. Keep both hands on the wheel. Don’t you want to be a good example for me when I start driving?

We’re running late, I told her, exasperated. Mommy’s a good multi-tasker. I haven’t had an accident in years.

Stop. Please. Stop. And she burst into tears.

That worked. I stopped. I had no idea what propelled her from mild scolding to meltdown. I waited a few minutes.

What’s going on?

It’s just … just … well, people can lose their mommies. Like the girl in my class. Her mommy was sick, and they thought she was going to get better, and then, well, she didn’t. People lose their mommies all the time, and I don’t want you to have a car accident. I don’t want to lose you.

We talked then, the two of us. By the time we pulled into church, she was onto the next topic, then out the door and inside to play with her friends.

But I sat there, wondering how long she’d been keeping her fear inside. And I thought about how it surfaced, manifesting into fussing about my driving.

This happens a lot, I suspect, in our relationships, including those in the church.

I promised myself that the next time I heard someone complaining, I’d dig a little. Maybe they just didn’t like the breakfast rolls served at coffee hour. Or maybe something else was eating at them.

For the day at least, I wouldn’t tune out when someone started fussing. I would try to learn more. I would try to see what fears were lurking just under the surface.

And with that, I rolled on my lipstick and went to worship.