Is it me, or do the most chaotic moments in life seem to be on the way to church? At a recent Sunday service, I had finally, frantically landed in a pew. My parents had patiently saved a seat for me and my son. Of course, within five minutes, I had impatiently hushed my mom for "whispering" too loud and given my dad a look for not hearing. I wasn't done there. I even managed to cut my eyes at my son and tell him he might want to "work on his expression" during church. Really?
I then sat back, looked toward the altar, took a deep breath, and realized I was being a brat. No better word to describe it...a brat. And thankfully, that thought brought on a little remorse, which had me glance back at my family with a different perspective. At that point, I noticed how my mom followed the service with such reverence. I smiled as my dad tinkered with his hearing device. He was wanting to follow the mass with such reverence. And then, there sat my son, who had clearly squirted a little too much gel on his head. I guess he needed that cool swoop or whatever hair does these days.
It was at that very moment when this very column popped in my head. I actually thought about how I better hurry up and write about my son because that window is about to slam shut. No way he'll give a thumbs-up to a column in his teenage years. That's just not cool. And then there's that sobering quote about your mother and father. “Treat your parents with loving care, you will only know their value when you see their empty chair.” That's certainly an eye opener.
I then thought about mindfulness, and how I was clearly not doing any of that in a beautiful Catholic mass. I thought about how important, especially at this point in my life, that I stay in the moment. With my son blasting for the age of 12, and my parents clinging to their 70s, I better focus on my family. The past and future need to stay in the past and future, and I need to embrace the moment. It's as simple as that.
Then everything came full circle, as I sat in that pew on a Sunday morning. I didn't need to hush my mom if she got a little loud with a whisper. If my dad asks me to repeat something for the third time, well then, I need to patiently repeat that something for the third time. And if my son doesn't want to smile his way through an 8 a.m. Sunday service, well, I can certainly understand, and relate with that.
It's an honor to sit in a pew with my parents and son at the same Catholic church where I was baptized. All this, while my hard-working wife is saving babies on the weekend shift at St. Dominic's. I'm surrounded by blessings. There's an anonymous quote out there that says, "Children are great imitators, so give them something great to imitate." After reading that, I owe some serious gratitude to the first two people I ever loved. My parents.
Robert Stedman is a Northsider.
