I am noisy in church.

Dear Church Lady,

You probably recognize me as half of the people you yelled at in the Adoration Chapel before storming back into the main church to continue reciting your rosary.  I was the one banging on the glass.  My mom was the one trying to squeeze in a few moments of prayer after 6:30 am Mass.

You might also remember that the next day she came up to you to talk, figuring there had been some sort of misunderstanding, thinking you had had a bad day.  Maybe you even wanted to apologize?  (I tried to warn her that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea, but she almost never understands me.  That’s why I have to be so loud.)  Boy was I right.  Instead of apologizing you took that opportunity to tell my mom a lot of stuff including that she is “a big distraction in Mass” and “everyone thinks so”.  Ouch.

Now, my mom and I both know you are wrong.  I’ve been coming to this Mass with my mom since before I was born.  These people are crazy about me.  “EVERYONE” seems to me to really like seeing young families at Mass.

It also seems to me that there are plenty of old ladies at daily Mass, but not nearly enough moms and kids.  I heard somewhere that Jesus liked kids.  I bet he’s happy to see me, even if you’re not.

You have probably noticed that my five older brothers and sisters are very well behaved at church.  But I’m kind of a stinker.  I like to shriek.  I like to bang on stuff.  My mom tries her best, but she can’t always keep me quiet.  

Still, like I said, the people here at Mass love me.  Plenty of people have come up to us to say how happy they are to see “the little ones” coming to daily Mass.  I don’t even know how many.  I can’t count.  And you are the only person who has ever said anything negative to my mom.  But it was a real doozy.

And now it’s all she can think about when she’s at Mass.  She’s more worried than ever about every little noise I make.  And she gets all sweaty and uncomfortable when she needs to walk past you.

Yes, Church Lady, you have taken away the feeling of peace and serenity my mom used to get to have at Mass.  But you would be the first one to point out that that’s just what she did to you.

So now what?

Well, here’s what I have to say about that: Who says you get to have peace and serenity at Mass?  Either of you?

You can be hair shirts for each other.  And maybe it will make you both better people.  

You will make my mom more conscious about how our behavior affects the people around us.  And that’s probably a good thing. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be nicer to the next baby who starts coming to daily Mass since my mom was too stubborn to turn tail and run.  My mom can use that burning feeling she gets when she sees you to remind herself of the stuff she does wrong that she doesn’t get yelled at about.  I know there’s some stuff.  I’m with her all day long.  Mass is a great place to remember that.

All right Church Lady, that’s all for now.  Those block towers aren’t going to smash themselves.  But I’ll see you tomorrow morning.  And pretending you don’t see me just makes me try harder to get your attention.

Love,
Frankie