The church creche

I must have written something about the church creche before. After all, we sit in there every Sunday.

And so, I find it necessary to write about it again.

To some, it is the most distracting place in the world. Toddlers who must release their pent-up energies (even more so when they are tired) walk around and can never seem to keep their voices down to a whisper... or drag chairs. Babies cry for attention right in the middle of a time of confession. Mothers (and fathers) go SSSSSSHHHHHH at regular intervals and make darting movements to snatch their little ones out of disasters waiting to happen - like hymnals waiting to be scribbled on with felt-tipped pens. Mine, the happy-go-lucky, often finds the environment conducive to do a number two during the sermon.

It is the most distracting place in the world to me indeed. (I blogged about it here.) It feels like the emergency department.

But Sophie said something yesterday that made me see the creche in a whole new light.

We were attending a guitar and drum performance a.k.a. pop music concert at the music school yesterday. I had to be there because I was part of the grand finale teachers' performance and they had asked Ben to be the event photographer. Naturally, Sophie had to come along (the grandparents are off babysitting duties on weekends). She enjoyed herself much but in the middle of all the crash, bang, and jam, she turned to me and said with a pleading voice loud enough to overcome the guitars and drums: "Mummy, I want to go to church today."

I had to reassure her, not once but twice, that we were still going to church in the evening after everything was over.

The church creche was still as distracting as before yesterday. But as I sat in there, I realised why Sophie wanted to be there of all places on a Sunday evening.

It is a plain and rather bare creche.

But it is where love (and ultimately God's love) is found.

As usual, she came to me for hugs and kisses every now and then. A reassuring hug after a fall. A bottle of milk. A biscuit. A change of diaper. Laptime. We rolled cars along the play mat. She flipped through the pages of a book while I listened to the sermon. She also scribbled in the church bulletin. More hugs and kisses. A gentle reminder from me not to drag chairs noisily across the floor. Some shushes. Aunty LC's baby cried and she comforted him. Sophie watched and ran back to me because she wanted her own mummy to hug and kiss her too. We walked to the glass door together during offering time so that she could slip some money into the offering bag. We sang hymns loudly along with the rest of the congregation outside. Finally, Sophie joined in the threefold amen. (No number two yesterday, thankfully.)

Our pastor always comes in to say hi to the creche-lings at the end of the service. I am grateful that she does.

We won't be in the creche forever. Someday, we will be out there, where Sophie will be expected to behave and participate in liturgy like a grown-up person. There will be no toys, no plastic chairs, and certainly no number twos during the sermon (if you can help it, thank you). But perhaps, it is time I appreciated the creche more. Because this is where Sophie learns about God and His people in an age-appropriate context. The God of the creche, the God whom we worship in the creche, the God who gives her parents weekly portions of gentleness, patience, self-control, and tact... is the God of Jesus Christ. The Creator, the Saviour, the mighty Redeemer. In His presence is fullness of joy, pleasures forevermore.

Reverence and love for God should be ingrained in one's heart before he/she worships outwardly with the rest. Only then, can worship be in spirit and in truth. I'm not saying that the creche is the only way - but having to sit in it with your kids must certainly be seen as a blessing and not a drag. I am learning that now.