Why I Don't Pay Attention in Church...

OK, so I admit it.

I don't always pay attention in Church.

I try. Really, I do. I try to follow along with the readings. I try to listen to the Gospel, and I try really hard to understand the message behind the homily.

And for the most part, I'm successful. I get the message, or I think about the message, or I get that I need to think about the message.

But the thing is, at some point, something always distracts me.

Sometimes it's a thought. Or a feeling. Or a feeling about a thought.

Sometimes it's that I'm wondering how that woman in front of me has five kids, and is wearing clothes with no stains, and that her clothes appear to have actually been ironed. She also appears to have brushed her hair. Today. And I don't see a single blob of yogurt in it. I'm sorry, but things like this are just way too distracting to moms like me. Maybe we shouldn't worry so much about separate seating areas for  noisy kids, and instead should have the Hot Mess Moms seating area. That way, we wouldn't become so distracted by the moms who appear to have it all together.

Sometimes, I'm distracted by the cute baby next to me, or the crying kid behind me, or the lady singing off key a few rows back. And OK, fine, sometimes I just can't help but notice all the shoes that pass by as people come back from communion, and I start wondering if those cute heels come in a size 10.

Yesterday, I was pretty successful in paying attention until about halfway through Mass, when I got distracted again.

The visiting priest who was saying Mass seemed very nice, but at one point he started to go into more "political" issues of the Church, and it was clear that he was pretty old school when it came to these topics. He started out talking about abortion, made his way to immigration, and by the time he got to divorce--and how it wasn't an acceptable option even in the face of infidelity--I found myself tuning out.

Instead, I noticed the little girl four rows up, who was sitting on her dad's lap. She was about four,with long blond hair, and piercing blue eyes, which I noticed as she seemed to look for a moment at every person around her. Occasionally, she stopped looking around long enough to smile at her dad before putting her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear. He was doing a much better job than I was of paying attention to the homily, but every time she did this, his full attention shifted to her and he smiled back and whispered something back to her. To those of us watching them (I'm guessing there had to be others who were as distracted as I was at this point, didn't there?), she was an adorable little girl who happened to have Down syndrome. But it was pretty obvious that to her dad, she was just his little girl.

When it was time for the sign of the peace, I turned around to shake hands with a woman behind me who was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt over a tee shirt. Not exactly typical Mass attire, but hey, who am I to judge? I probably had yogurt in my hair. As I said "Peace be with you", she smiled, and nodded, and quietly said in heavily accented English something that kind of sounded like "Peace".

After communion, an elderly couple shuffling back to their seats caught my attention. Though they were both moving pretty slowly, he stopped to wait for her as they got halfway down the aisle. They held hands as they made their way back to their seats, and he smiled at her as she patted his hand. I wondered how long they'd been married, and if she still made him breakfast every day, and if he put his dirty socks in the hamper, or left them laying on the bedroom floor.

As I left, I realized that I hadn't listened to the priest as closely as I probably should have. I didn't cling to his every word--and if I had, I probably would have disagreed with several of them.

But as I watched the elderly couple shuffle out of Church together, I also realized that even though I wasn't listening, I was still paying attention.

And somehow, I think I still got the message.