We made it to church today. Well, three out of five. Kerry stayed home, hacking up a lung (like a hairball, but grosser), and Gunnar stayed home too - claiming he was sick, but I think mostly in sympathy. Although he still stayed home even when I said he couldn't have any screen time, so maybe he is feeling kind of rough. Because - you know - I'm a mom that notices every little detail.
So we made it to church, but missed last night's special program - Church History Night at The Barn. And not just at a barn, mind you, at The Barn, because - you know - it's in The County where everything starts with The. I wanted to go, but the barn, the church, and tomorrow night's rehearsal are all more than a half-hour away, so something had to give. I don't like to spend a lot of time driving.
We really wanted to go last night. We've only attended this church for about two years, and have grown to love the people... the way they hold firmly to the truth and to each other, the way they do Christmas programs, and the way they practice the art of the potluck. Seriously, these people are professionals. I've seen women coming in with not just one, but three and four covered dishes. You don't want to miss it. And stories!
We probably missed more than we know last night, but I console myself with this: At the last potluck - which was just an ordinary potluck, not an official church history night - I learned all about the Half-Baked Lord's Supper (involving a large, and rather gummy loaf of sourdough from a grocery store bakery, and resulting in a lot of rather un-spiritual sounding finger licking), and the infamous Baby Baptism Blow-Out. Just a little public service announcement: always keep a spare outfit in the car. Until they're teenagers. Seriously. Also, precious white baptismal outfits and mustard poo are an unforgettable combination.
We'd already become official members, but when you find out things like that... well, you really belong.