I’ve heard this phrase for most of my adult life. I say ‘adult life’ because before that, it wasn’t said as a reminder, it was assumed I was going. My parents made sure of that. As if I hadn’t heard this enough over the last 32 years, it increased to be every single week once my wife and I bought a house in St Louis Park, about 6 whole minutes drive from the church. My parents have been lifelong participating members of the church community. I had always joked with my mom that I spent so much time there from 0-18, that I had enough services saved up, I could afford to miss a few as an adult. She didn’t find this as funny as I did. My father has been in the choir as long as I can remember and was at one time the president of the congregation, and serves on various boards. My mom seemingly spends every free moment of her time at the church, volunteering in some way. When my mom brought my older brother to the 3-year-old Sunday School class at the church, he had a really hard time when she tried to leave the room. The teacher at the time suggested that she stay, and she could help teach the class that day. My brother is now 36, and my mom has been Teacher Carole, teaching the same 3-year-old class ever since. She has had students in her 3-year-old class that have grown up and had their children in her class as well. My hope is that our little man can participate in his grandma’s 3 year old class in a few short years.
I make mention of all of this because I feel it is important. My parents both make a point to tell me every Saturday that church starts at 9AM on Sunday. I feel like it is for a slightly different reason now. I know that their wish is that we go every Sunday, like them, believe and feel all of the messages, like them and make it a point to serve our community, like them. Church is very important to my parents, and so are my wife, my son and myself. I feel like the reason for the weekly reminder has changed. When we go, it is obvious to me that my parents have a sense of pride when they introduce us. This is especially evident when they are showing everyone their new grandson. And I feel this when members of the congregation comment to me about my son Mac. I feel like this is one of the many things that I have an increased understanding of now that I, myself, am a father.
Maybe I had missed the meaning of these reminders all along…
Mac and Daddy surprised Oma and Papa Paul at church this morning!