The last few years we have lived in a place where there was not necessarily a “Church,” like what we think of in the good ol’ South.
There was no building or gathering of believers on Sunday morning. Actually, there was nothing that necessitated getting your family ready and out the door. We still gathered with other believers, but it was in our homes and it was super low key. Not to mention a typical work week where we lived runs Sunday to Thursday. That means we would generally gather together with other believers on a Friday- which was the day of worship in our little corner of the world.
If that’s not enough, ya’ll know I’m a homeschool mom and we aren’t typically known for our ability to get several little people fed, dressed and out the door to a given location before mid-morning.
I’m guessing the combination of the aforementioned facts has resulted in me being off my game when it comes to the “Sunday Morning Scramble.”
No matter how hard I try or how much effort I put into it, I can’t seem to get all 7 of us to worship with our Church on time. And on the off chance we do manage to sit down in our seats before the service begins I’m completely unprepared.
If you see me wearing a full face of makeup it was applied in the car on the way to worship, meaning my mascara is “less than ideal” and my brows are quite possibly kattywampus.
I have no snacks for the 2 year old so he is crawling on my head and digging in my purse in the hopes of finding a piece of gum or a lonely lollipop.
I have failed to pack crayons or paper for the five year old so he is losing interest by the minute and working diligently to draw tattoos on his forearm with a random pen he found in the back of the pew.
And when I’m really wanting to showcase my finest moments I look down and see that one or more of my kids have somehow made it into the service without shoes. True story.
So the next time you see this disheveled Mama strolling into the Sunday morning worship service with a passel full of kids in tow, please don’t judge. In fact, a heart felt fist pump may be exactly what I need at the moment as we slowly but surely are getting into our Sunday morning rhythm here in the good ol’ South.