“Can I go with you to church tomorrow?” Daisy asked timidly.
“It’s in English—are you sure you want to go?”
“Yes, if that is okay with you.” she replied.
During this conversation, I was confused as to why Daisy
would want to go to church with us. Since our boys are nearly fluent in
English, we attend an English-language service so that all of us can be fed. However,
Daisy speaks no English—none. It seemed odd that she would subject herself to
an hour and half of people speaking apparent nonsense. I was concerned that
Daisy would be as bored as I am when I go to a Spanish speaking service—I would
not wish that level of boredom on anyone!
I have known Daisy
for almost ten years; she worked at Casa de Esperanza, where I interned for two
summers during my college years. When the ministry first started, Saul and
Carlos, Daisy’s sons, started living with Jen and David because Daisy knew that
she could not provide the life that she wanted for her boys. Daisy has a profound
love for her boys—a love that compelled her to let them move out and live away
from her even though it caused her great pain. This act of selflessness has
benefitted her boys recurrently.
Since the beginning, Daisy has made an effort to frequently
visit her boys, continuing to be a part of their lives. Because of this, Daisy
spends each weekend at MTM spending time with her boys, cooing over her
grandson, and helping us by cooking meals and cleaning some around the house.
It is the type of relationship that is not possible in most children’s homes.
While Daisy is quite the character (anyone who has met her knows exactly what I
mean), she is also one of the most sincere and innocent people I know.
At church, I sat on the opposite end from Daisy; to be
honest, by the third chorus of the second song, I had forgotten that she had
come with us—I was too preoccupied with keeping teenagers off their phones
(Kids these days!). Towards the end of the sermon, I looked down the aisle and
saw Daisy. I did not see a woman in the midst of immense boredom, or a woman
with glazed over eyes and drool coming from her mouth. I saw a mom who was
thrilled to be at church sitting by her son.
I can’t tell you what the sermon was about (holiness,
maybe?), but I know what I learned at church that day: worship is not always
manifested in singing, praying, and scripture reading. Worship is a mother
unconditionally loving her son. Church is as much about the fellowship of
family (biological and spiritual) through Christ as it is about the rituals we practice.
Worship doesn’t have to be (and probably shouldn’t be) flamboyant and
bombastic; worship can simply be a mother, unaware to what is being said, who
is content to sit beside her son and know that God, too, is with them.
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