I’ll never forget the day. It was a bright Sunday morning, but I was downstairs below our church’s sanctuary, in a dark mood as a result of pacing the halls and trying to bounce to sleep my squalling little three-month-old boy. My little boy who was refusing to sleep, that is. The same baby boy who had already cried out in the middle of church and had refused to be comforted, forcing me out into the halls for what seemed like the 100th time that month.
What I wouldn’t give for an uninterrupted Sunday morning sermon, complete with open journaling Bible and pen in hand!
As I paced back and forth, back and forth, my anger rose along with my son’s continued cries.
What is this all for? What good is it that I come to church Sunday after Sunday if all I am going to do is spend the bulk of my time alone with a tired and grumpy baby?
These thoughts and more kept flowing in and out of my mind as I thought back to my pre-baby days. Those days when I took for granted the freedom I had to enjoy the whole worship service in peace and reflection. Now I was lucky if I heard the first 10 minutes of the sermon.
This feels so mundane. What am I actually accomplishing right now? Why won’t he just go to sleep so I can go back and listen to the rest of the sermon?
To read the rest, head on over to Her View From Home!
