Between the Skydancer and the Statue

Dearest Rachel –

So… it happened again. We’ve been asked to move, and while I understand the reasoning behind it (and evidently, Daniel’s not bothered by it), I’m not exactly thrilled. The thing is, the request was made with deliberate care so as not to upset us – and I think it worked on Daniel – but the fact that the request was even made is sufficient to bother me.

Because the request was made so delicately, I feel like I have to tread lightly in relating what happened, lest I appear to be complaining excessively. This is one of those things that you and I would talk about with no one else around, and no harm would be done in each of us expressing our feelings about the situation – although, I can’t guarantee offhand that you would take my side or Daniel’s with regard to it.

As a sideline, part of this morning’s sermon had to do with treating certain people within the church differently, based on what they had or could do for you. By way of example (as illustrated by the passage itself), there was the fact that a rich man would get a better seat in church than a poor one; this evidently was a carryover from when synagogues would have certain seats be purchased by various members of the faithful – which, of course, James took umbrage at, since those following Jesus were supposed to be different from those who didn’t.

Now, we’ve not exactly had seats that could be considered to be ‘ours’ in church. As a general rule, we used to prefer a spot in the center; the better to see and hear everything that was going on. Maybe a bit closer to the front than not, but that was about it. Granted, we were just as likely, early on in our marriage, to wind up in the balcony, either because we misjudged the amount of time to drive from home to church (it was twice as far away as it is today, complete with trains, stoplights and the occasional weather issues to deal with en route), or because we might, at any point in time, need to address various needs baby Daniel might have, and have to slip out of the auditorium in a hurry.

As time went on and Daniel grew up, we might still sit in the balcony whenever I was assigned to work the slides, but eventually set that aside when the booth was built at the back of the main floor, complete with sound board, cameras and lights. It was at that point where you two staked out the middle of the room once again for a while.

The thing was, while I never got into much of the raising of hands or applause as part of worship (partly because the way the church was when I was growing up was decidedly against that sort of thing, but also because the booth required a level of concentration that precluded participation as such, and this carried over into the weeks I wasn’t on duty), you did to a certain extent, and passed that on to Daniel, who took to the practice with, dare I say, enthusiasm. This became a problem as he continued to grow, even passing me in height, much to his dismay – it’s one thing for a little kid to be bouncing around as the praise team worshipped (and encouraged the congregation? audience? what do you call them these days? to do so as well), but as a six-plus-footer, he’s literally goaltending, blocking the view of people behind him more effectively than a ridiculous hat on a matronly old lady.

And that was when we were first asked to move, to the corner of the audience, so that he wouldn’t be obstructing anyone else’s view, and thus interfere with their ability to worship. I think our reaction was actually one of some relief, as it could have been (were we as a church body, too much like we had been back in the day) a case where he was asked to cease and desist entirely. To be honest, I don’t think that’s something we could have done even if we wanted to. And Daniel would get the occasional compliment about his enthusiasm, with some people wishing they had the nerve to be as caught up in it all as he was.

And while I wouldn’t say I was one of them, what with my refusal to raise my hands even when the lyrics all but demanded it (I felt that to do so would be more performative on my part; yes, it’s a case of literal self-consciousness, as I wouldn’t be doing so out of actual devotion, but rather out of compulsion from outside forces, and I do – and likely always will – refuse to do something like that when it doesn’t come from my heart or soul), I was proud that he could be an example for others, just like you have been.

So this morning’s request came as a bit of a surprise, although when I saw Brian talking with Daniel, I had an inkling as to what it might be about. Sure enough, it appears that, by sitting in the front of the audience where people can see him, it still can cause a momentary flash of distraction, and potentially ruin the moment in which someone else may be in. So rather than cause that distraction, we are now going to be sitting in the row at the back of the church, against the wall (anywhere else, and Daniel wouldn’t have room to move the way he wishes).

I wonder if things would be different if you were here. You were basically the middle ground between Daniel’s skydancer act (although it seems cruel to call it an ‘act’ – there’s no doubt in my mind or anyone else’s as to its genuine nature) and my standing there like a statue. Indeed, as a general rule, you literally stood between the two of us, and acted as a balance between us. You would move, but not so much as to be a distraction; just enough to really participate in the worship process. Perhaps you could have been able to temper his excessive vigor in a way that I cannot, and quite frankly, will not.

Afterwards, someone came up to me and asked where we had been, as they had been looking for us in our usual place. I told him that we would not be there again, and why, and he seemed disappointed. I shrugged and acknowledged that I was, as well, but it didn’t seem like something that could be helped. At least Daniel continues to do his thing regardless – and for that matter, I found myself having to talk to a few people as they filed out, so maybe this can work out for the best, after all.

But it’s not a path I would have chosen for myself – much like a lot of what’s been happening these past couple of years.

Anyway, thanks for hearing me out. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck – and maybe, a little patience. I’m likely to need them both.