Disruptive Children

"Your kids are being very disruptive."

I don't think any parent likes hearing those words, but as the young woman returned haughtily to her seat, I was left reeling. How was I supposed to respond to that? It's not like I didn't know they were being disruptive. That is exactly why we sit up in the balcony at church—so that the boys can move and talk without making too much of a disturbance. This particular Sunday they were especially antsy. All that would stop them from trying to unplug the Christmas lights was running lengths back and forth on the landing at the top of the stairs. I was acutely aware of how noisy they were being, and I was keeping them as quiet as I could.

When that young woman came storming over to me like that, part of me wanted to respond very sarcastically: Thank you, Captain Obvious, I was not aware that my toddler is currently having a meltdown over not being allowed to play with electricity. Thanks for letting me know. But my annoyance was completely overshadowed by my embarrassment and shame. If one person is upset enough to talk to me like that, how many more people are resenting the presence of my rambunctious little family? I felt self-conscious, judged, and unwanted. A social leper. Feverishly, I redoubled my efforts to contain the boys. After Jesse took them to Children's Church, I sat alone, with tears in my eyes. I didn't know how to process what had just happened. I'm still trying to process it.

As the mother of two energetic little boys, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. It probably won't be the last time either. But as a recovering people-pleaser who is constantly aware of the emotions of others, it's really hard to know that other people are being bothered by my children. I don't want to be disruptive, I really don't. But I also want my children to be able to live without constantly being shushed and told to sit down. I want them to grow up knowing that they are valued members of the community, just the way they are—not second class citizens until they've had the enthusiasm of youth choked out of them. I also want to be able to continue to live my life, with my kids in it. I want to be able to sit with them in church, and go to events with them, and include them in things. So I guess that means there will be people who find my children disruptive. But I still feel pretty awful about it. I don't like bothering people.

As for the rest of my story, thankfully there were a couple of things that helped me get though the rest of the morning at church. It was a communion service, and one of the pieces that the pianist played during communion was from Handel's Messiah. That made me think of my favourite Aria from the Messiah, "He shall feed his flock":

"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd
And he shall gather the lambs with his arm
And carry them in his bosom
And gently lead those that are with young."

The memory of those words made me want to cry: and gently lead those that are with young. Oh, how us mothers of the young need that gentle hand! Stretched to our limit day after day to care for and raise these little ones who take every drop of love and attention and patience that we can give. By our own standards and the world's we so often fall short. But no matter how many voices of judgment and criticism there may be, our Saviour is gentle with us. And his is the voice that really matters.

After the service I was also able to talk with a friend who had seen the whole exchange. His indignation on my behalf helped me feel a lot better too.