Ash Wednesday seems as good a time as any to talk about church. Namely, that sometimes I wonder why I even go.
Long gone are the days in which Edith would remain asleep in her stroller throughout mass. I miss those days. Now nothing keeps her quiet -- not toys, not Cheerios, not standing, not sitting. Not for long, anyway.
This wouldn't be quite so bad if our church had a cry room. It doesn't. So when Edith gets loud, she and either Paul or I are banished to the vestibule to listen to the service. Or worse, the entryway, where you can't here anything at all.
We are making some progress -- we once made it all the way through about half of the mass before we had to take her out.
So why do we go? Because one day she's going to stay quiet for the entire hour. I hope.
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