That’s the last straw, I thought as the content’s of Ladybug’s
diaper hit the clean bedding, then the floor. I had really intended to be on
time for church today. Cutting Mr. Bug’s TV time short and leaving extra time
for a good snack, getting Ladybug dressed up like a little doll, and actually
remembering to write the check for offering this time, I felt confident as we
left that Bug would even have time to pick a couple wildflowers before we left
the house at 9:35. Church wasn’t until 10, after all. We were early. I did it!! I am chronically tardy, so this was an accomplishment on
my part. My band teacher used to use the adage, "Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable." I too often found myself in the "unacceptable" category.
Until I remembered that the pickup was hitched to my
father-in-law’s trailer with his skidsteer on it. I had the choice of switching
both car seats to the car or pulling a skidsteer to town on a trailer with
tires in very dubious condition. I opted to move the car seats.
At this point Mr. Bug, being very disappointed that I couldn’t
join in flower picking, wandered off on his own. Ladybug blissfully stayed in
one place on the sidewalk, squatting down (I should have known!) and looking at
rocks. One seat installed by 9:40. I can do this, I thought.
Once Ladybug’s seat was secure, I went to gather Mr. Bug. He
was across the pasture, still busy picking flowers. I yelled at him to come.
Nothing. I know he heard me. So I picked up Ladybug and ran closer, urging
Brother to come NOW. I’m sure all the neighbors heard.
I packed snacks. Water. We are ready. Just a quick diaper
check for Ladybug and….oh. It was now
9:50. Church starts at 10. It takes 15
minutes to get to town.
Of course, it was an “above average” poopy diaper, and
instead of simply staying in one place it had to make a quick exit as I
struggled to wipe the squirming tot and rediaper her. She wasn’t happy; it was
nap time, of course.
At 9:53 we were on the road. I was sweating. Ladybug fell
into an exhausted sleep. We shuffled into
church just as Pastor was announcing Absolution.
But we made it.
I know of a time when I would have just stayed home. How
embarrassing to show up that late to
a service. Disruptive. Inconsiderate. Why come at all if you’re going to be
late anyway? But that’s just putting a human construct on God, acting as though
He is really upset that the toddler pooped her pants at an inopportune time and
would rather I not show my face after such a disgraceful event.
In fact, even if I were able to predict my child’s bowel
habits or had a good enough memory to remember to change the car seats the
night before, if I were to show up to service twenty minutes early, I am no
more forgiven by my own efforts, and to think such a thing is a serious error
in itself. In all honesty, I don’t think there are a whole lot of people who
really, totally think this way, anyway. But I must admit I had a bit of selfish
pride in myself this morning the first time we went out the door and I really
thought I had remembered it all.
It was a blessing and a privilege to be able to come into
God’s house, feel my pulse drop as someone handed me a hymnal opened to the
correct page, dig out raisins for the kids, and know that for the next hour I
could count on God blessing me in Word and Sacrament!
