Our Church

Jesus said that it's more blessed to give than it is to receive. Of course, that doesn't mean you aren't blessed when you receive. And we've been on the receiving end of late. Did I tell you we've gotten a new pastor in the last few months? And his wife has directed a school for special needs kids? Yup.

Woodjie is allergic to milk and eggs. I started trying to bring a ziploc of pretzels, but nope. The church just changed the snacks they gave *all* the children. Now the kids all eat Kix instead of cheddar goldfish. That's love, giving up everybody's cheddar goldfish for one toddler.

And Elfie has a hard time in church. So he gets a special seat. So he gets allowances sometimes for things. He can even sit under the table during the teaching if it's quiet.

It doesn't always work.

On the one hand, I don't want to force the kid to go to church, but I also have been reading Grandin's advice and taking it to heart. Elf NEEDS to get out and do some things that are hard for him. He doesn't dislike going for any conventional reason (deep theological difference, personal disagreement, etc.). He just doesn't want to go because it's hard for him to leave home and go places. Nothing personal, but especially if he's away from his parents, it can be extremely difficult. In some situations, it can be dangerous because he's panicked before when we haven't been with him.

Elf didn't want to go to church tonight and learn in his little class. They don't have the right kind of seat. They don't let him sit in the back. (These are things we can work through if we talk about it, give some advance notice and ASK, what do you think, Elf?)

Well, it's more serious than that. They don't use the King James Bible, Mom. And they REQUIRE me to do actions to the **NIV**.

Did you just gasp at that heathen notion?

I think, buddy, you can hang out with the NIV for a couple hours a week and learn the stuff in the King James at home if you like. You're really there just to go see friends and maybe pray together and make a craft.

No. I refuse to do it. Little arms folding, head turning and nose up in the air. Awww, Elfie... Well, Elfie and I talked about how Mom thinks it's a good idea to do some hard things sometimes. Elf said that he *always* gets into trouble, no matter what and why should he go if he's always getting into trouble? He can be a good boy at home. Or he can sit with me always. How about that? Stay with Mom always?

Nope.

Elfie appealed to the Court of Dad. Dad asked Elfie what his mom said and that was the end of that.

We made it to church. He apologized for last week (unfortunately this is a regular occurance, and Emperor will do HIS apology for "the thing he did last week" on Sunday when he sees his regular Sunday school teacher) and everything seemed to be fine. Off I started to go to church. But there was an Elf next to me. I'd think he's a boomerang or something, but Emperor made me find out allll about boomerangs, and did you know some of them don't return? This one did.

Discussion time. You need to go back. Why you need to go back. Little tears and arms folded because he doesn't want to go anywhere today. Can he stay with me? Can he go home? That didn't work. Start in on the standby, "beginning rumblings of a temper tantrum."

Mom clapped her hands at him and told him to GET his little hiney into his class NOW. Tiny feet thumping down the hallway, fast, without so much as a good-bye.

How did that work? I thought I was in for the old drag the cell phone out and call Dad trick.

Ok, so I'm late. I am greedy when I barge in and ask for prayer for Elf anyway. Unfortunately, God chose to answer our prayer in an unexpected way. He decided to answer our prayer with, "No, not only will I NOT help Elf in class today, but I'll make it necessary for you to be called out of class and for Elf to issue an apology next week. And while I'm at it..."

Guess what God did while He was at it? God is a very funny guy.

You just have to laugh sometimes. Well, first a bit of background... I don't cook often, so when I do, I use about 18 cups of flour for our pizza. I served PIZZA. We had so much stinkin' pizza that G was looking ill, still stuffing it down. I finally made him throw the rest of the crust he was eating away. Noo, he insisted, I must... stuff... it... it has... flaaaaaavour...

Well, glad it's so yummy, but watching you about barf takes away my appetite. I think you've had enough.

Oh! But G emerges from the youth group with AN ENTIRE PIE. Patrick tells me that he told the everyone there tonight that there wasn't enough food at home and he was starving. Yes, he did. G counters that really what he SAID was that he was hungry and didn't get enough to eat, so that's a really different story. Yep.

I know, you're going, you just fed him a meal so big he was about to throw up not even one hour before church. But he said he was "really hungry" when he was at church, so it wasn't a lie.

Aaargh.