Let Us Pray

Several months ago, we christened ourselves "Banglican".  See, we rocket between two churches almost every Sunday morning:  one, Baptist and one Anglican.

We adore the order of worship, the weekly communion, and the reverence of the Anglican church.  On the other hand, we love a good, old-fashioned Baptist Sunday School lesson. 

Now the Banglican thing makes complete sense, right?

Moving on.

Another reason we enjoy the Anglican church is because it is so liturgical.  Once you've been going for any significant period of time, you get used to when you stand, sit, kneel, sing, respond, etc.  Practically, you don't need the bulletin, because you are cued by the minister at the altar or the hymnal board on exactly where you are in the books.  And the rest?  You simply memorize over time, which frees your mind up to concentrate on what the words really mean.*

Now, I realize there is a pretty steep ramp up to having this level of comfort.  I was raised in a liturgical setting, so I know most of the little ditties and prayers and psalms put to music.  But, when you first attend?  Not.so.much.

That was the case with The Babe yesterday. 

Father Young** stood up to lead us into the scripture readings for the day and said "Let us pray."  Standard terminology, sprinkled throughout worship, probably repeated about a half dozen times each Sunday service.

But, for Babe?  "Holy cape, Minister Man!  What did you just say?"

He looked up at me and said "LETTUCE?" with this scrunched up look on his face.  Then he repeated it, just for emphasis and to be sure that I understood that he was paying attention to this man who was, clearly, putting in an order for the toppings on his post-service cheeseburger.

I corrected him, but The Babe STILL didn't get it "What do you mean let us?"  Unfortunately, there was no way, in a relatively silent room, to explain this turn of phrase to him without it causing more raucous.

But, when he saw that what he said made me chuckle, he kept looking up at me saying "LETTUCE?"  "LETTUCE!"  "LETTUCE."   It looked like he was auditioning for a commercial for the Lettuce Growers of America.

I'm confused by the lettuce, happy about the lettuce, content about the lettuce. Every possible combination of emotions about lettuce was coming through on his face and in his voice.  Which reminded me that I need to find an acting coach for him.

But, I made the point that this wasn't an audition with my squinty "Shut it!" eyes and "SHHHH" finger over my mouth.

Even this morning, though we've been over the "let us" turn of phrase several times now, The Babe is STILL convinced that, somehow, he heard Father Young correctly.

Maybe, in his six-year-old mind, this was God speaking.  Maybe God was telling him "It is time to catch up with the rest of your family and eat romaine at dinnertime."

Probably, this is all wishful thinking on my part, because I am tired of making salad for four and broccoli for one.***

But, hey!  If he keeps paying attention in church, maybe he'll hear more code from God, things like "Obey your Father and Mother" and "Forgive" and "Love One Another". 

I'll take it, even if it is sprinkled in with a little, leafy misunderstanding.


*Or, zone out, if you are too dadgum tired to focus.

**Not his real name, but he's young, so....

***This kid could single-handedly take out an entire broccoli field in one day, given the chance.  And, I imagine, probably gas us out of the house afterward.