St. Paul's Episcopal Church

By Anne Peterson

On Mother’s Day, the moms I looked forward to seeing most were the mothers at St. Paul’s.  The mothers, the single mothers, the fathers, the surly teenagers, the boisterous children.  And on Father’s Day, I will again be looking forward to seeing all of the community that usually populates the back five pews.

Most days this school year it seems that I have been coming to church on my own.  My youngest prefers Sunday School followed immediately by oatmeal.  And, she’s brought home so much Christian education and so many ingenious art projects from her third-fourth grade Sunday classroom, I’m able to adjust to her choice, for now.  I don’t mind if she’s not there with me at ten o’clock.

The only times that I can count for certain on my son attending are when he’s acolyting.  So that means Joe isn’t sitting by me, either.  I know that on my “solo Sundays” I’ll sing, and pray, and hear.  Really hear the sermon.  Truly greet and mean the sharing of the peace with someone outside my family circle. These Sundays for me are solemn, as I take in how the teenagers are maturing into adulthood and how the choir seems somehow directing all its voices directly and personally to me.

I sometimes imagine that when I am at St. Paul’s without my husband or children, some of the other parents in the back pews envy my opportunity for blissful, concentrated worship.  I know how hard it is to feel spiritually connected when your preschooler is loud-whispering, fighting, running (not walking) down the aisle, oblivious to the service 30 paces away.  But at the same time, I know that I am missing out on the Molly, Rowan, and Mary Ann antics if I’m not back there with them.  You know, where they transform themselves into holy creatures by covering their cheeks, noses and foreheads with the Jesus loves me stickers from the quiet packs? God only knows why adhering stickers to one’s face is so amusing. It’s just a holy mystery, I suppose.  God bless him, Russ Pack does his saintly best to keep the peace, handing out puzzles and hugs and copious amounts of sweets back there. 

Mothers and fathers, godparents, and friends.   God bless you in the back pews, and please savor every precious, noisy moment there.  As Joe Donohoe observed one Sunday when he was crucifer, “St. Paul’s is like a school bus.  All the cool people sit in the back.”

It’s true, except  that in our parish, the cool people are in the middle, front and choir, too.

“Whoever you are, wherever you have been — you are welcome at St. Paul’s Church!”