I have a confession to make.
My 9 year old got me to Mass yesterday.
Yesterday morning, as I sat at my table engrossed in a stack of work to-dos and a busy week stretching ominously ahead of me, I decided there was not enough time to get it all done.
Something had to go.
Over the last couple months, my boys and I have settled into a good routine. The twins go to faith formation while my oldest and I go to church. It’s been a nice routine.
But yesterday, I just felt like an hour at Starbucks churning out more of my endless to dos while the twins were engaging in faith formation just made more logical sense.
So, as the twins got dressed, I walked over to my oldest and said: “Mom has a lot of work to do today, so I’ll let you stay home this week. But only this week kiddo.”
At first, he just nodded.
Then he said words I never thought I’d hear him say: “I’m kinda sad. I wanted to go to Church with you.”
I was floored. This child has never spoken those words before to me. Church is always a bit of a fight. I searched his face to see if he was just saying it now that it was clear he wasn’t going to have to go, but his face showed nothing but marked disappointment.
I sighed glancing briefly at the pile of work on my table and then turned to him and said: “Ok, we will go!” We had a bit of a back and forth of him saying “but you have work…” before I looked at him straight in the eye and said “You come first.”
(And for those wondering if I should have said “God comes first” – that too… especially the image of God I saw right before me on the couch asking me to just show up)
As I sat in the pew with him yesterday feeling his head heavy on my shoulder, I wondered if I had kept true enough to those words I said to him just moments earlier…. “You come first.”
When there is a choice to make, what am I choosing?