Crocodile Wrestling & Conscience Righting

I was "that mom" this week at our Good Friday Communion Service--you know, the lady who looks like Steve Irwin wresting a crocodile as her child tries to be anywhere but still in her arms.  After Communion, I found myself praying that God would help my son to grow to be as active in His service as he was active during this service.

I don't know why my son wouldn't take a normal nap on Friday or why he decided my face would be a better teething toy than the arsenal of chewy-toys I had prepared for him to gum.  What I do know is that I was supposed to be at that service, no matter what the cost.

The other day, I was home alone with my 6 month action hero and was craving some adult conversation and company as we prepared to go to the park for a walk.  I called three different people to see if I could find some companions for our excursion, but everyone was unable to join us.  Some reasons were better than others, but I was still disappointed.

A day later, I was very tempted to skip attending church for Good Friday.  I reasoned that my son would need a good nap at that hour, I could have my own quiet prayer time at home, and I didn't need to impress anyone with my heroics.  My thoughts turned toward my experience earlier this week.  I had been mildly upset because I couldn't find a friend to walk with; how much more must Christ suffer when I refuse to walk with Him on the most excruciatingly painful walk of suffering in human history?  My excuses withered under the imploring glance of my greatest Friend and Lord.

James was a mess for all two hours of that service.  We spent over half of that time in the back hallway watching children squirm all over the floor like worms after a thunderstorm--hardly inspiring.  But that brief span of time pierced my heart with a deeper commitment to love my Savior.  Like His Mother, I want to be present to Him, even when it is uncomfortable, difficult, and distracting.  Mary didn't get upset at the soldiers betting over Christ's clothes and the unrepentant criminal's curses.  She stood at the cross, silent and faithful.  Her presence and love was her service to Christ in His final moments on earth.

As long as I have children, I will always have "good reasons" for not going to Mass or attending the sacraments as often as I could.  And I certainly don't attempt to judge those who determined it necessary to stay home that day.  But, I know my habit of letting excuses pile up and snowball.  I know that for the good of myself, my family, and my relationship with my Lord, I need to stop allowing a little victimized, whining voice in my head convince me to neglect a true ordering of my priorities.  This week was one step.   
Lord give me the strength to take the next step too!