I Want That Too

We pause in the doorway, me to grab a bulletin, K to grab an activity bag except for K it's longer than a pause because he is smart enough to check the bag before he selects one. After a search of all ten bags he locates one with a precious few 3 sheets of paper left. The others have no paper. Paper is crucial.

Entering the sanctuary, I steer K down the side aisle to a pew about halfway back. I want an aisle seat because it's the easiest seat for me to be able to shift right and left in order to get a clear view of the choir. M is singing. I think I preferred it when M and K were in the same choir. We only had to go to church once a month then. (Yeah, I know we should go every week but we don't and that's what works for us.)

Every time I usher K to a pew I have flashbacks of him as a toddler and as a rambunctious preschooler who could not sit still at all. I received many glares and even some snide comments from some of the congregation during those years and I somehow failed to notice how much he has grown up.

We sit and he immediately sets to work writing. I stand and sing the first hymn while he kneels, using the seat as a desk. He's asking me questions in a slightly louder than stage-whisper voice, typical for him to be unable to regulate his volume. I shush and place my finger silently over my lips periodically. He is undeterred. He wants his questions answered. I answer some and shake my head at others.

During the reading I glance at K. He smiles broadly.

**Mama? Can you write something for me?** Again, a little too loudly for my taste. I start to shake my head again when I notice he's holding out a prayer card.

**What do you want me to write?**

**Please keep my family safe and warm.**

I hug him right then. Heart. Of. Gold.

I write his prayer and tell him to sign his name. When the pastor calls the kids up for Children's Time, K happily hands the pastor his card. Following Children's Time, K heads to an activity room with the other younger kids while the adults remain for the rest of the service. He doesn't hear the pastor read his prayer in the service, and the pastor knows he's not in the sanctuary to hear it but he reads K's prayer for him anyway.

I'm proud.