Right after we had kiddo no. 4, this pandemic hit and everything changed.
So, finally after months of Sunday’s at home, we decided to brave it and attend church service.
Getting us up and out the door was insanity.
Our morning went a little something like this:
“After breakfast, brush your hair and teeth, change your clothes, and put on your shoes.” I say while the oldest three are eating.
Silence.
I repeat.
In a collective monotone reply, “ok, mom.”
Following breakfast, guess what happens?
They return to cartoons like my request to ready themselves for church was just a farce.
So, I repeat my request with some extra…fervor.
Finally, they respond, but in the absolute slowest possible pace known to man.
Oh. My. Freakin’. Goodness.
*deep breath in, deep breath out*
Brent senses what’s happening and steps in: “Ladies, we need to leave in 30 minutes. Please hurry.”
Commence the changing of clothes.
*Tempest screaming* “these shorts feel funny!” *immediate self-depantsing*
*Tempest screaming more* “ugh! I don’t have anything to wear!”
I respond, “Sweetie, I just did laundry, you have plenty of clothes on the small couch (laundry couch). Go check there.”
“Mom, I don’t like anything!”
I reply, “sorry you don’t like anything. You don’t like many things, and I’m not going to wash the same clothes every couple of days. I’m not gonna do it.”
*gutteral otherworldly sounds escape as she flings herself face first into the clean laundry*
I walk away. Sometimes I just can’t with that chick.
I meander down the hallway to my room so I can finally get ready, and just as I cross the threshold I hear screaming.
I step back into the hallway to locate the sound – it’s Banshee screaming at Sprite because she’s using her mirror.
*eye roll*
Banshee is trying to apply lipstick and is focused on her reflection, and therefore, no other individual can use nor come near it.
*eye roll again*
“Banshee, this mirror is for everyone. She can use it too.”
*the whining intensifies*
We are now T minus 10 minutes.
Two of the four girls have disappeared.
“Brent, have you seen the girls?”
He’s getting ready for church and replies, “maybe they’re downstairs?”
I stand at the basement stair opening and bellow their names, making sure all corners of the basement bounce off my request for their presence.
They obey (oddly enough) and look at me inquisitively.
“Have you brushed your hair and teeth?”
In collective apathy, “no.”
“Ladies, you cannot go downstairs until you are completely ready to leave.”
They scurry to the bathroom and I attempt once again to cross my bedroom threshold.
As I do, Brent and I exchange glances, I hand him the baby, and he jumps into the lions den (It’s a tag team event Sunday mornings).
Success.
We are now T minus 5 minutes.
I run around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to finish getting ready, fixing my hair, trading glasses for contacts, picking shoes, and all the other things.
Now, I’m ready.
The real work of leaving begins.
All the excuses and protests are now flying out of their mouths.
“I hate these shoes!” *said shoes flying across the room*
“My lipstick looks weird!” *my kid angrily removing all lipstick from her lips, and possibly skin too*
“I didn’t eat breakfast!”
My response is the same to each of them, “I’m sorry, get to the van.”
After all the crying, whining, and dragging of feet, they finally make it to the van.
Now, its fighting and arguing in the small confined space of our van.
“My seatbelt is stuck!”
“Mom, Banshee won’t move her feet!”
“Sprite is kicking my seat!”
“I forgot my stuffed animal!”
“Mom, Tempest wont give me back my pen!”
It’s constant.
By the time I plop into the passenger seat, this following multiple trips back inside the house for forgotten items, I’m exhausted.
I look at Brent, “this is ridiculous! Why is it so hard to get out the door!?”
It’s taken Sunday after Sunday to realize the real issue at play.
It’s the devil.
He’s our Sunday morning thief.
Trying his best to thwart our joy and excitement of the opportunity to worship, commune, and learn more about God.
“Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”
1 Peter 5:8 NIV
It can be crazy to get out the door for any outing, but specifically Sunday mornings are extra intense.
But, going to church is worth it. It’s necessary, and we want our girls to know that we need Him.
We need Jesus everyday, and especially Sunday mornings.
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