This May Be A Dream Come True

On Sunday, like millions of other Americans, we attended church services as a family.    In fact, I'm pretty sure at least 4 million of them were at our UCC church.  We are late almost every Sunday and still manage to get seats so I figured if we arrived fifteen minutes early for this service, we'd be okay.  Ha!  What was I thinking?  When I pulled in the parking lot, it was clear that most people had arrived while we were still home eating cinnamon rolls.  We were delayed even further when Henry refused to get out of the car with grandpa and instead rode with me to find a parking space off site. 

Henry and I walked through the church doors to the sounds of the hand bell choir.  We took our (folding) seats in the lobby and I lifted Henry to see the bell ringers.  I think he'd really enjoy making that kind of music someday.  Of course, I'm sure those musicians have to promise to get to church on time. 

When the music finished, our pastor greeted the congregation from his usual place but was not immediately visible since the holiday choir was standing in front of him.  As his voice reached us through the well-placed sound system, Henry exclaimed, "Mommy!  God said, 'Happy Easter!'"   For a second, I was taken aback.  Surely Henry knows that Pastor Aaron is just Pastor Aaron and not God, I told myself.  But then I realized that my little one could not see anything except the row of chairs in front of us.  All Henry could do was listen, and boy, was he excited to hear those words coming from inside the church.  I wanted to freeze the moment and cherish it for all its meaning.

In so many ways this past Sunday was a day to remember.  The candy and colored eggs are gone now but I still feel like celebrating.  I sincerely hope that my children always feel at home in church, whatever church they choose, and that they often feel a personal connection with God just as Henry did on Easter morning.

While we were at church the Easter Bunny stopped by