We Went to Sunday Mass in Sweats...

We went to Sunday Mass in sweats... and sat up front. The children were mortified and I just took a deep breath and tried to ignore all the feelings I was feeling. I figured it was just my pride. And after all, it wasn't our parish and no one knew us there. Except the priest. And the three other people who happened to recognize us as well. We do tend to stand out when we sit up front in a mostly empty church.

It's been a long time since I was so dressed down for Sunday Mass.  The last time I can remember was 13 years ago.

Here's how it happened this time...

We were at Cookie's Volleyball tournament all day Saturday. It was supposed to end at 2:00pm but ran until 5:00pm. Professor's volleyball tournament the next day would prevent us from attending Mass as a family on Sunday. My husband is a real stickler about Mass as a family. If there's any possible way to do it, he'll make it happen. He made it happen on Saturday night...

Professor: "I cannot go to Mass like this. Absolutely not. I'm in sweats and tennis shoes. No way."

Me:  (cheerfully) "At least your sweat pants are black."

Cookie: "I'm sweaty! I'm in pants! My shirt has words on it!"

Me: (laughingly) "No one will be looking at you."

Crash: "I am NOT going to take off my coat. My t-shirt is all dirty."

Me: (reassuringly) "That's fine."

Button had nothing to say because she wasn't thinking about her clothes at all.

Jellybean: "I'm so very hungry."

I was keeping it pretty cool with the kids. Reassuring them that God is not a bean counter and that He knows how much they want to appear neat and tidy for Him and how much it means to Daddy to have everyone together at Mass.

As always, my interior state was a bit more rattled...

"I cannot go to Mass like this. I'm in sweats and tennis shoes. I'm sweaty. I'm in pants. My shirt has words-and baby spit-up-on it. I am not going to take my coat off. I'm so very hungry. The baby has a full diaper and needs to eat. And my hair is...crazy!"

But I stuffed it all. It's not about me, right? Even when the Chief sat right up front, I still managed to suppress everything but a tiny resigned sigh.

During that Mass, I changed the baby twice, fed him once, walked up to the front of the church to sit with my family only to walk back out again... twice. Heard an outstanding homily on the decline of our culture and our obligation to defend LIFE. And...

... received the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist.

It is so not about me and my clothes. What a great reminder.
Posted on January 25, 2011 and filed under "humility".