The Noisy One

Church was loud yesterday. Not like rock band loud or anything, just Mormon loud. Babies crying, toddlers talking. It kind of sounded like we were sitting in the zoo section. And I loved it. I thought it was perfectly awesome.

We had this lady named Sister Richards who went to our church when I was growing up, and whenever a baby would cry she would turn around and glare at the parents as though they had ruined her Sunday entirely. I vowed I would never do that. And I don’t. If someone wants me to walk around with their unruly baby or toddler, I am happy to help, but if it sounds like someone is on fire behind me, I will not turn around and stare. They are going to have to tap me on the shoulder. I am no Sister Richards. :) I spent too many years with a pack of rowdy toddler boys to forget this quickly.

My sister Wendy told the story of an older lady in their ward who sat down in front of her very young, irreverent family one Sunday. About midway through the meeting, when they had reached a fever pitch of disgust for having to sit in a boring meeting for an hour and a half, the lady turned around. Wendy felt terrible for the commotion and was struggling to quiet everyone down, and the lady whispered to her: “Two words: Dime. Tapp.” Haha!

I am all for reverence, but I am also all for toddlers. Sometimes the two don’t see eye-to-eye, and if I have to choose, I’m backing the toddlers every single time.