Church Life
“And it’s a bunch!”
Parents have opportunities in life that are unparalleled. You know as well as I that our kids can catch us flat-footed at any time. My dad has stated more than once over the years, “There’s no manual that comes with kids when they’re born.”
In some ways I agree with that statement, but will certainly offer up that, manual or no manual, there are those moments for which we are dismally unprepared. It’s hard enough at times to know what to do, but when your kid does something so audacious that all you want to do is laugh, it makes disciplining them nearly impossible.
Such was the case in the fall of 1986 . We had just recently moved to the Columbia River Gorge area. We were busy settling into the new home, the new job, and the new church. We had spent the last four years working in a small church on the coast of Washington state. That was the only church experience Annie had known. Our new church was larger in comparison. Regardless, Annie was undaunted.
One fine Sunday morning we went downstairs to the church basement and picked Annie up from Sunday School/Children’s Church like usual. She was her bubbly self and wanted to show us what she had found in her classroom. To our surprise Annie proudly presented us with a pile of money.
“Where did you get that?” Marm asked her.
“I found it in my classroom,” was her honest reply.
“Where in your classroom did you find it?” Marm persisted.
“It was in a little box-shaped like a church,” she piped happily.
Our daughter had just pilfered the Sunday School class offering and was pleased as punch about it.

Marm and I exchanged quick looks and whispers asking ourselves, “What are we supposed to do now?”
We determined that it wasn’t a huge deal since it was done in complete innocence. Yet, it was important enough to be addressed, after all she did rip-off the class offering. Having quickly decided how to handle it we chatted with our pastor and brought him into the loop. He agreed to talk with Annie about what she had done.
There we were standing in his office. Annie was in front of us with her back to us, and couldn’t see our faces. The pastor was facing Annie and we could see his face clearly as he talked with her.
Pastor Greg very gently explained, “You know Annie, it isn’t right to take things just because we see them. The things we see belong to other people and it’s important that we leave those things where we found them.” He further explained ,”God loves us and doesn’t want us to do that to other people because it’s stealing, and stealing is wrong.” I thought it was going quite well, then he asked her, “Annie, did you take the money out of the little church box in your Sunday School classroom?”
Annie was simply beaming as she stated excitedly, “Yes, I did… and it’s a bunch!”
Marm and I sharply caught our breath at this point stifling our cries of surprise. We pursed our lips together so hard it hurt and were visibly shaking as we kept ourselves from laughing out loud. I was starting to sweat from the effort.
Poor Pastor Greg could see us clearly from where he stood and was helpless to do anything since he had to maintain that touch of seriousness so needed to make his point. Seeing him pretending not to be affected by her answer made it all the worse for us as we tried to hold it together. By now, tears were streaming down our faces and our hands covered our mouths.
Once he was done and Annie had handed over the contraband we all hugged each other and laughed hysterically. “Can you believe she said that,” was all we could say to each other.
Where do our kids come up with this stuff? I’m at a complete loss. On the flip side, it does serve as a good reminder for me. Don’t take things so seriously that I forget to laugh at life a little.
“And it’s a bunch!” What a line.
Out of the Mouth of Babes
I’ve found that “truth” is often spoken from the least likely of people and can catch me off guard. It causes me to pause, or in some instances takes my breath away completely. None-the-less it is still the “truth”. I remember vividly one such moment in our family adventure that rocked my world.
It was a normal Sunday morning when the three older kids were little. I was a part-time associate pastor on staff at our local church at the time. My responsibilities there were varied and shall we say, plentiful. My internal pressure to have it together and be on time was a constant nag. A great stress creator.
We were all getting ready to go to church like usual. The pitch was fevered. The rush was apparent. It was that typical Sunday morning frenzy. So much energy being spent in getting all of us ready. After all it was the “big” event. The chaos was palpable. There were only 5 of us at the time, but it might as well have been 50. Trying to get us all moving in the same direction in a timely manner was like herding cats. It was never going to happen.
I know I’m not the only one to experience this ritual. So many of you reading this know exactly what I am talking about. You could write this post yourself. And here’s the kicker. As those dedicated to the religious it is almost our God given duty to blame this chaos on Satan himself.
“The devil just wants to mess up our day! God has great things for us and Satan is mad about it.” can be a commonly offered rational for the mayhem. Never mind that my internal pressure is building because I have an over exaggerated religious sense of obligation hanging over me. After all, we are staff so we have to get this together. People will be watching!
So, all the while as we are “herding the cats” there is a sharpness in my voice, frustrated stares in my eyes, impatience in my posture, all giving off a definite sense that the kids are the problem here. They should know better by now. We go to church every Sunday! This isn’t new!
Come on people. Get it together! This was my state of mind at the time.
Well, in spite of everything to the contrary, we did eventually aim ourselves in the same direction. We headed out the door and up the steps to the mini-van. We’re all getting ourselves situated; strapping in the kids to various car seats and boosters. Snugging down the seat belts and making sure we had accounted for everyone. Martha and I took our seats and did the same. As I started the van I turned and said to the kids over my shoulder,
“Smile everybody.”
And out from the back seat came the reply from our dear sweet Annie,
“Why Daddy? We aren’t at church yet.”
And… there it was in all its unadulterated glory.
In that one simple honest question the truth had been unearthed. The lie had been unmasked. It felt like I was just sucker punched in the gut. I was teaching my children to be religious. Simply put, what things look like are more important than the truth. Ouch! Having people think we had it together was more important than how I actually was treating my own family. If there was ever a good time to swear, that would have been it.
Truth is truth plain and simple. Its source doesn’t change it, even when it comes from out of the mouth of babes.
