I don’t make time for myself these days. That is no one’s fault but my own. I have more than enough help to run personal errands, but I don’t care enough to make the effort. I do, however, make time to practice disciplined skincare treatments and I savor every fleeting second of a long shower. BUT, there is something I have prioritized in my personal budget of time. It’s a weekly event I participate in for me, myself, and I.
Lately, I have attended mass at the nearby Catholic Church totally solo. When I first got into the habit of attending mass by myself while my husband bravely manages our sons (and dogs) at home, I felt pressured by time. I know it’s wrong to feel like a guilty mom when leaving to worship in the Lord’s house. But I did. I would keep my cell phone on silent and would keep it within close reach as if I were an OB doctor on call to deliver a baby. Beginning that habit made me feel even guiltier. So I stopped the guilt-ridden anxiety trip, and I made a change.
Last night, I attended the “Life Teen” mass at my church. It’s the service where the high schoolers are encouraged to attend with their families and connect with their friends while worshipping the Lord. I love coming to this mass. It’s inspiring to see young men and women at the altar serving the Lord. But what I look forward to the most during this service is the music. The music ministry at my church is AMAZING!
Well as I mentioned previously, I made a change to my worship ritual during last night’s service. I decided to sing louder than usual. For some reason, I am more comfortable singing during mass when my family isn’t with me. Sharing my talent and love of singing is much easier around strangers…for obvious reasons.
I went and found a seat in the overflow room where all the families with little ones sit next to their trendy strollers. Soon after I sat down, a quartet of what I assumed were high school-aged girls sat in the row in front of me. Already, I was all too quick to pass judgment based on their appearance, their demeanor and their overall presence. Like any teenage flick chronicling the perils and torment of high school life, these girls were such a cliché.
I painted a picture in my head that these four beautiful young ladies were THE popular ones at their school. They were dressed exactly the same, adorned with outlandish accessories, figure-fitting and skin-bearing clothing. Not to mention, I couldn’t help but wonder what the heck a 17-year-old was doing wearing a Chanel bag that I could never justify owning but so enviably want. They were a distraction to everyone else as well. I could see pre-adolescent boys gawking at them. I watched a couple of creepy old men do a double take when they walked by the quartet. I most astutely noticed two mothers giving their disapproving looks towards the attractive foursome. I guess they were thinking to themselves, “How could their mothers let them attend mass wearing THAT?!”
It was hard to keep my eyes on the cross when these young gals were so eye-catching. I am embarrassed to admit that I judged these girls. But early into the mass I decided to let it all go and just worship Him. With whatever was in my heart when mass started, I was compelled to sing passionately and fervently throughout the mass. I let go and prayed the more earnestly with every note I hit. As freeing as it was to sing my heart out, it was uncomfortable and I felt intimidated by the foursome. Like any group of girls would do, they snickered and giggled amongst themselves throughout the entire service. As self-centered as I am, I was convinced that they were making snide remarks about how loudly I was singing. Self-conscious much? Yes, but I worked to squash it and asked God to keep me focused despite the distraction.
Then we reached the point of service where we all shook hands with our neighbors saying, “peace be with you.” I didn’t expect any one of those girls to reach out to me. They seemed too preoccupied giving hugs and kisses and peace to each other. But to my surprise, three of the four girls reached out to shake my hand and complimented me on my singing. In fact, they were so genuine and took the time to tell me to my face that my voice is “so pretty.” I was floored. I thanked them, told them they were sweet, and ended the chatter with a “Praise God” closing remark. Not sure how they took that, but it didn’t matter.
It was an empowering moment. I cannot ever remember singing so openly during a mass service…ever. I did struggle with the propensity to use my voice as a means to “show off.” I’m not a shy person and humility is something I lack. But God humbled me to the point where I had to surrender my self-consciousness in order to worship during service. When I did, I sang out loud…and it was empowering for myself and apparently for others around me as well.
