We Belong Here: On Moving, Showing Up, and the Church

Several weeks ago, we walked into the parish office. We continued down the hall to the chapel. There, we would attend our first weekday mass in our new city.

I did not know what to expect.

Incapable of whispering, the kids made observations and asked questions as we walked down the hall towards the chapel.

Turning the corner, we found the chapel door wide open.

We were not late, but we were certainly not early.

Were we on time? Our priest and deacon had just processed up the aisle.

You can be the judge of our timeliness.

Regardless, our hall conversation was public knowledge to all mass goers.

Chapel

The chapel was small.

Eight pews seating 2 adults per pew with 4 chairs in the back, and it was a full house.

20 weekday mass attendees plus the three of us.

As I participated in mass and navigated parenting age-appropriate behavior in a new weekday mass setting, I felt tears prick.

• It is hard being new and not knowing people.
• It is difficult to parent in public.
• It is humbling to lean on God’s grace while battling pride.

We left mass with smiles from the other mass goers and high-fives for the priest and deacon.

Hand-in-hand, we crossed the street together, and I took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay.

We made it. We belong here. Mass is for all of us.

We made it. We belong here. Mass is for all of us.
We made it. We belong here. Mass is for all of us.

This is the manta I repeated in my heart as we left weekday mass.

It is the mantra I repeated to myself as we buckled into the car for weekday mass the following week.

Our former parish did not ring bells during the consecration.

Our new parish does.

For those who are unfamiliar, a deacon or altar server can ring bells during the consecration. The purpose is to capture the congregation’s attention. This occurs at the exact moment when the bread and wine convert into the body and blood of Christ.

The novelty of bells ringing is irresistible to a two-year-old. Each time the bells ring, our two-year-old declares “bwells!” in his single volume voice of enthusiasm.

During Sunday mass, his announcement is noticeable but not significant in the larger crowd.

During weekday mass, with 20 of our city’s faithful in a small chapel, his repeated declaration is noteworthy.

It is hard not to smile in the moment.

As a parent, I adore that the bells are doing in him what they are meant to do in all of us. They awaken our attention. They draw our focus to the significance of the moment.

I love that I get to remind him and affirm to myself and our daughter what the bells mean each time they are rung and we (all) hear a two-year-old declare “bwells!”.

As I participated in mass and navigated parenting age-appropriate behavior in a new weekday mass setting, I felt gratitude.

We made it. We belong here. Mass is for all of us.