After Church

My youngest hates church. Just the act of driving by the building evokes tears from the boy. I guess it’s the idea that we will leave him in the daycare room during service? I don’t know why that is a problem for him – it is a room full of toys, after all.

My oldest – she loves church. She is proud that she gets to go early to Sunday School. From what I’ve observed, she spends the entire time in the “desert”, which is just an indoor sandbox. I think this is why she likes church so much – the sand and the ever-present dixie cups of popcorn that the Sunday School teacher doles out.

While they differ on approaches and rationales, they do agree on one thing: the fellowship hall has cookies, and that’s church! So we cannot escape the routines of services without first stopping by the fellowship hall and attempting to keep our kids from touching all the cookies. And touch them they will.

It’s nice; it gives us a reason to hang out in the hall after service and chit chat with others. And sneak a few cookies ourselves.

As a kid, I remember feeling a certain way about organized religion. It was that the best ones had a respectable cookie tray available within the reach of short arms. A lemon-lime blend drink added bonus points. I didn’t understand anything about the sanctuary or what was happening in there. Just adult stuff. I didn’t like the way the musty wool suit jackets and zany ladies hats smelled, either.

I don’t suppose my theological stance has matured much, regarding sweets. Did any of the great prophets have anything to say about cavities? Is there a circle of holiness separating colorful Neccos, Jujubees, or Jordan almonds from the Little Debbie Snack Cakes and yellow Hydrox Cookies? (Well, there should be.)

Kids love sugar. My kids’ love of sugar gets them through the grinding legalities of Leviticus, the sorrow-filled Book of Job, and lengthy discussions of the All Saints Day Calendar cycle. God bless the cookie table.