Nearly 40 years ago, my mom taught me and a bunch of teenagers a lesson I am only just now growing to fully understand. We worked for her in the nursery at our church. She told us when we were getting started that we were not to get into the habit of getting the parents out of church when their child became upset.
“What do we do if they cry and pitch a fit or fall down and bonk their head?” asked one well meaning new nursery worker. “You jolly them up,” said my mom.
Some time later I asked my mom why we don’t retrieve the parents if their child became upset. “Two reasons,” she said. “One, these parents are bedraggled and worn out from parenting. It’s a hard job. Two, they already know their kid is struggling. All week long people in their lives have told them about their kid’s struggles. So, their church is going to be the one place that they are not hearing negative things about their child.”
So, we jolly them up? I said. “Yes, we jolly them up.”
Now there’s probably about 10 solid lessons about life and daily living in her instructions to us, but what really sticks out to me is that she was teaching us how to think about others first. That is, we were to practice being uncomfortable for the sake of another.
The children misbehaving or crying or otherwise struggling was uncomfortable to us, the nursery workers, so we might be tempted to go get their parents. But the point of the nursery was not our comfort, it was the comfort of the parents. My mom explained to us that the people came to church as the result of a series of miracles. The first miracle was that the parents got themselves and their children dressed and out of the house. The second miracle was that once up and dressed and out of the house and buckled into the car they then chose to come to church of all places! The third miracle is that by the time they got to church they had enough energy left to come inside. The underlying miracle is that the parents had enough faith to believe that coming to church would help, that is, that God could supply the love and nurturance they needed to keep going. “So,” said my mom, “these poor parents get 60 minutes to sit quietly in the pew and pray and participate in the service while we have their kids. Our gift to them is to leave that time undisturbed.”
Working in the nursery was de-centering. That is, we learned that while at work we were not the central point of reference. My needs, wants, wishes, and desires were not points on my compass. Other people, the parents of the kids in our care, were the central concern. How could we help them? That was our focus. That’s basic Christianity by the way. Quit thinking so much about yourself, pick up your head and look for someone to help. My mom taught a bunch of teenagers those basics in a church nursery a long time ago down in Georgia. Pretty impressive, don’t you think?