The Bible According to Jenna

Over the last year we've been total slackers with church. First we had a hard time finding a church we felt comfortable with. Then there's the logistics of trying to get 4 kids to Sunday school and church as a single parent. But at the beginning of this school year, I vowed that we would be better.  And other than the Sunday's we've missed because we had the plague H1N1 flu, we've been pretty good.  In fact, we're so good we've been going on Wednesday nights.   Yeah, so they serve dinner on Wednesday nights.  That's not the only reason we go.

Yesterday after dealing with the aftermath of Emma's marker mural, I decided to calm myself down with a non fat, no whip Mocha from Starbucks.  (Hey, it beats buying crack on the corner.)  I picked Jenna up from school and we headed straight to Starbucks.  On the way, I told Jenna that we were going to church later.

"I don't want to go to church!"

"But we have to go so you can learn about God and Jesus."

"I already know all about God and Jesus."

I was impressed.   At 6 years of age Jenna has achieved what most theologists have strived  for their entire lives.  "Okay,"  I said.  "Tell me about Jesus."

Jenna seemed disgusted at the pop quiz but explained, "Mary didn't want Jesus so she put him in a basket and floated him in a river and a princess found him.  He grew living with the princess."

After giving myself a mental head slap, I questioned which was worse-- The Gospel according to Jenna or when Jenna came running up to me after Sunday school last spring very excited that she had discovered that she could pray anytime, not just at dinner and bedtime.  (My friend Heather, Jenna's Sunday school teacher at the time, still won't let me forget that one.)

"Actually," I said gently so that I wouldn't upset her, "that was Moses."

"Oh, yeah."  She seemed puzzled that she had got that one wrong.  I decided to try again.

"So tell me about Jesus."

After thinking for a moment, Jenna said, "Jesus had to travel to a city really far away because people could be counted, I can't remember what it's called..."

"A census?"  I volunteered.

"Yeah, he had to travel on a donkey to a census."

Great.  I had failed my daughter's Christian education, yet ever the cock-eyed optimist, and just like when Jesus asked Peter who he was 3 times, I tried for the third time to see if Jenna knew about Jesus.

"But what about Jesus and the cross?"

"Oh yeah... Jesus died on the cross to forgive our sins so we can go to heaven."

So I wasn't a total bum.  Thank goodness.

"But I still don't want to go to church."  She added.

How could I make my daughter go to church and want to be there?  I pondered this as we waited in the Starbucks drive through lane.

"They're having fried chicken for dinner."  I told her.

"What kind is that?"

"You know, crispy chicken on the bone."

Her entire attitude changed.  "I love that kind of chicken.  I want to go to church."

That's my girl.

Filling the pew

I went to church on Mother's Day morning. That should be a no brainer, of course I would go to church. But I admit, I live to sleep past 8:00 am. As life goals go, it seems low on the priority list yet it's pretty high on mine. With a bed time of often midnight or later, I have to make my sleep up somewhere. Don't even suggest going to bed sooner. I'm starting this post at 11:00 pm. Enough said. I often get my one day to sleep in on Saturday but Ross had Saturday school the day before. So on Sunday, Mother's Day, I was tempted to sleep in and possibly miss church.

Lucky for my eternal salvation, Emma had other ideas and woke up at 6:45. Her Mother's Day gift to me.

There was no excuse to miss church now so Ryan, Jenna and I went. I knew Ryan was supposed to make a Mother's Day gift of a clay pot with a tissue paper flower and Jenna had choir practice. More incentives to go to church. The kids went to their Sunday school classes and then we headed to the service.

The kids grabbed their activity bags and we took our seats. Three people, three seats right? Oh no, Jenna and Ryan had to have room to spread out so we took six seats. I know I need to loose weight but really now. I spent the next hour telling Jenna to be quiet and tying to convince Ryan that the crayons in his bag were just as good as the crayons in Jenna's box. Trying to stop Ryan from stamping the back of the chair in front of us. Convincing Jenna that I really didn't want to play Go Fish with the cards in her bag.

Jenna received a peony flower bud to give to me for Mother's Day. At one point, Jenna held the peony flower bud and she decided to make sure I had it, right under my nose. "Smell it," she said. I turned my head away and then back to it sniffing. "Can you smell it?" she asked.

The church we go to is my brother's church. When we first started going it was nice to have someone we knew. But we know lots of people now and quite a few are readers of my blog (Hi Christy, Kathleen, Heather, and Sandra!) I've always believed that church is not only worship but also fellowship and I get lots of fellowship at this church.

Heather, who was sitting in the row behind me leaned forward and told Jenna, "You're mommy can't smell."

I leaned back to her and whispered "Stalker!" Heather knew this Fun Fact from reading my blog.

In the meantime, both kids were moving from one end of our chairs to the other. In the process of moving, Ryan's clay pot was knocked over numerous times.

The first time it was knocked over it fell onto the concrete floor and the the clink and roll was heard by several rows in front and behind us. By the fourth time, people were looking back to see what was going on. By the seventh time, people were snickering. By the end of the church service I was holding the pot.

Don't ask me what the sermon was about. I know it was something about love, it was from the book of John and there was a story about a train trip and a chain gang, although I'm fairly certain the chain gang story didn't come from John. That's about all I remember. I think that's probably one sentence fragment more then I remembered about the last sermon I heard.

When the service was over, I turned to Heather and told her that I thought I was going to the wrong church. I think I need to convert back to Catholicism where at least you get to drink wine at the end of the service, even if it is from the communion cup. Wine, fellowship-- I think the church service should be renamed Happy Hour.