Taking Timmy to Church here in town is a unique experiece, to say the least. Not only for Timmy and I, but for the rest of the churchgoers. Our church is about 100 years old. As such, the pews are too narrow for a car seat. Also, it's a single-room church, meaning a crying baby needs to be taken outside. This has a tendency to discourage parents from bringing young children and babies to Church.
I've taken Timmy about five times now since he was born, not counting his baptism. Only once was he bad enough to be taken outside, and even then he was just recovering from a stomach bug. Every time we've gone, I've gotten a seat at the end of the pew, for easy retreat if Timmy starts getting fussy. Today, I was stuck right in the middle. I figured it was a sure sign that the devil himself would possess the boy and raise holy hell in the church.
Fortunately, this was not so.
About 95% of the churchgoers here in town are senior citizens. Where I usually sit in the church, I am surrounded by the town elders. This means when Timmy is in a good mood, they're constantly oohing and awwing over him and keeping him entertained while he's awake. When Timmy is in a bad mood, I get annoyed stares that radiate outward from where we sit- first from the people nearby, then from those farther away looking to see what all the commotion is about. It's not too unlike a bad fart in the sanctuary.
One unique part of being in a small German community is that the old folks have no qualms about touching Timmy on the hand or forehead as we're passing by. I don't mind this personally- I don't particularly think Timmy will get any more germs than he already has through this- but I am surprised nonetheless. After all, for all these old folks know, they'll catch some disease from Tim that'll make them start talking in grunts and moans for the next three months.
I am, however, convinced that when the priest sees me enter the church with Timmy, he whips out the longest readings and rites possible and says (and sings) them as slowly as possible. This could be because by the time mass starts, my arm is usually numb. Or maybe the priest doesn't like babies.
Nonetheless, Timmy was fantastic during mass, in stark contrast to his behavior the rest of the week.
I've taken Timmy about five times now since he was born, not counting his baptism. Only once was he bad enough to be taken outside, and even then he was just recovering from a stomach bug. Every time we've gone, I've gotten a seat at the end of the pew, for easy retreat if Timmy starts getting fussy. Today, I was stuck right in the middle. I figured it was a sure sign that the devil himself would possess the boy and raise holy hell in the church.
Fortunately, this was not so.
About 95% of the churchgoers here in town are senior citizens. Where I usually sit in the church, I am surrounded by the town elders. This means when Timmy is in a good mood, they're constantly oohing and awwing over him and keeping him entertained while he's awake. When Timmy is in a bad mood, I get annoyed stares that radiate outward from where we sit- first from the people nearby, then from those farther away looking to see what all the commotion is about. It's not too unlike a bad fart in the sanctuary.
One unique part of being in a small German community is that the old folks have no qualms about touching Timmy on the hand or forehead as we're passing by. I don't mind this personally- I don't particularly think Timmy will get any more germs than he already has through this- but I am surprised nonetheless. After all, for all these old folks know, they'll catch some disease from Tim that'll make them start talking in grunts and moans for the next three months.
I am, however, convinced that when the priest sees me enter the church with Timmy, he whips out the longest readings and rites possible and says (and sings) them as slowly as possible. This could be because by the time mass starts, my arm is usually numb. Or maybe the priest doesn't like babies.
Nonetheless, Timmy was fantastic during mass, in stark contrast to his behavior the rest of the week.
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