Two Church Mice: See How They Run

There's something about seeing my kids sitting in my church's pews, walking down its halls, playing in its nursery, and eating pot luck lunches in the fellowship hall. Every step, every bite is, for me, a ceremony. They play on the same playground in the church yard that I played on 25+ years ago, even on some of the very same equipment. I can almost see my childhood self laughing and running along right beside them.

I feel like I'm doing something right when I see them running, playing, just being on my stomping ground, this sacred ground. It's their rite of passage. I want them to have the experiences that I had...of going somewhere regularly where they see people who are not in their family but who care about them and have watched them grow...who care about religion and tradition and community. They may not know it now, but Emma and Ethan are already being affected by the Sundays that we spend participating in church. I am not extremely religious, but I do believe in a Higher Power and I try to be guided by my internal sense of what is right as it pertains to my personal path.

But taking my kids to church isn't only about teaching them about The Bible and God. I also take them because I believe in coming out of the house and meeting the neighbors, so to speak, establishing a sort of public relations, participating in community activities and just keeping an eye on "the greater good," you know?

My church, First Presbyterian Church, has lots of history in our town as well as in our family. It was the very first church founded in Muskogee, OK and has had 5 different locations, the current one since 1978. I have been a member my entire life, and my parents are also members. My mother's parents were members, and her brothers and sister and their families were all members at one point as well. I was baptized there as a baby, confirmed there in adolescence, and married there as an adult. The same goes for my sister. Our kids have all been baptized there as babies. When I think about church, I will probably always picture my church's stain glassed windows, the high ceilings, the scriptures and pictures that are carved into the walls.

Over the years, our congregation has dwindled considerably and lacks representation and support from people in my age group. Our building far exceeds our needs as a small congregation, and it exceeds our checkbooks as well. It seems as though the time has come for location number 6. That is a painful and dreadful inevitability. It's hard to imagine not physically having that loving and quiet space. I'm sure we will learn to love the next location as we make new memories there. But it hurts that Emma and Ethan may not even remember being here, where so much has happened in our family's life. I have been making sure to take pictures in front of the stained glass that I will forever see in my mind and on the tire swing that still swings out front. Their mommy will remember for them.

Their mommy will remember shushing them in the pew, giving them snacks and crayons to occupy their minds and mouths. She will never forget hearing their first attempts at singing church hymns, naming the colors they see in the glass, or how Ethan loudly repeats, "WE GOTTA BE QUIET" during prayer. Who could forget Emma's wailing cries for her Mimi once she's spotted in the choir loft?  Or seeing them walk down the aisle for Children's Time or to decorate the cross with beautiful Easter morning flowers....

 I know our church is more than a building, but the building has in a way taken on our personality as a group, as a family, and has attached itself to all of our significant memories...memories that we'll never forget.