Weekday Mass is so different from Sunday Mass. Our new church building can seat 1100 people. On any given Sunday at the 9am Mass (our normal attendance time) there will be 700-800 people. On a weekday Mass (not twice a week when students are present) there are about 100-150 people. There is no bad seat in the house. Even as a toddler, you can have a straight line view to the sanctuary. I attend with my almost 3 year old and now 1 year old three to four times a week. Praying the Mass has been so peaceful for me that it has become my favorite way to pray. God has been pouring grace into me in a way that I do not deserve, and my family is most thankful for a more patient and loving mother/wife!
The kids have helped me make friends with the Weekday Mass Goers. One couple in particular we had become friends with are regularly involved in reading and/or helping distribute the Eucharist. They sing in the choir on Sundays and have beautiful voices that captivate my children’s attention and elevate liturgy. They often bring little things for my toddler to hold during Mass. And one day, the wife, Gina, brought bandaids. And so began an irreversible bond between my girls and this retired couple.
As I was reflecting on this abundance of grace and state of consolation from Mass, the demons after my soul got sneaky. Little things that I used to have patience for would last just a moment longer, emptying my cup. There would be another small “straw” of an incident at school or work or with my spouse. All of a sudden I felt myself on edge and frankly, crabby! I was overstimulated for what felt like all day long. My two littles only overlapped during nap for a few minutes and my half-day daughter was not playing quietly. I couldn’t get my work done for my paid employment or my housework. I felt as if I had no time to myself, ever!
Weekday Mass was getting more and more difficult. The baby was getting wiggly and wanted to move. The toddler only wanted me, but I had to hold the baby. We ran out of snacks too quickly. We didn’t sit close enough. We sat too close. Our new best friends with the bandaids had the audacity to go on a two week vacation to Hawaii to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary (without taking me or my kids!). What used to be a time of welcome, tending to infant Jesus through my own children, became burdensome. I felt my time at Mass was creating more stress during the day, leading to an empty feeling at home. Nevertheless, I stuck to it.
The Monday they returned from their trip, we saw them at Mass. I was worried that they would have loved the solitude and quiet morning prayer so much that they would ask us to sit elsewhere, to be too busy to help our busy children. I was convinced that the outlook I had of my children being “too loud” and “a distraction from Jesus” was the same outlook that others had on them too – that Mass just “wasn’t for us at this stage of life.”
God made me laugh.
When we walked through the doors, my toddler went running. They both got down on one knee and hugged her so tight. When Gina went up to read I noticed a blue bandaid doctored on her index finger – assuredly affixed by an almost three year old.
That morning at Mass it felt as if the Holy Spirit put a bandaid on my aching soul. It was a beautiful reminder that God shows up to me through people, and that my children are precious, even when I don’t have the patience to see them as such.
This week, I am on the lookout for how I can provide a bandaid moment for my children, friends, family and strangers. God wants to show up for others through us!
