I have long thought that our family handles change well, that we can make change and go with the flow gracefully, in a smooth, fluid-like way. It always felt that way. The comings and goings of family members, the insane amount of traveling we've done in recent years, the move, the meeting of new people, and the cultivation of new relationships have all given me the impression that we adapt well on a large scale. This assumption was clearly called into question with the changes to our traditional church schedule. I'm not a stickler for when, where, what, and what order things are done in. It's the big picture, the end goal of what we are trying to achieve in meeting together with a church family. Tell me when to be there, and I'll be there... no judgments, no questions asked. So I did not once question the change of schedule for our Sunday services, which is now devotional at 9:15, class at 10:00, and services at 10:45. Sounds great. It is now apparent that my children, especially Paxton, have been completely thrown by these changes.
We got to church this morning for the 9:15 portion and the girls went to our pew to sit. Paxton went to class where I had to convince him that we weren't starting with class today and needed to be elsewhere. He was not impressed, but went. Twenty minutes later, he leans over and says "Is it almost over? Are they about to say the prayer?" Normally, this is his cue for "I've almost made it through services." It ends and he says "Are we getting chicken now?" For the last two months of a certain family member's absence, I have hit KFC on the way home from church on Sunday. It seems that the response to making it through Sunday morning church is to now get chicken.
Paxton was less than thrilled that not only was it not time for chicken, it was now time for class. That's the nice way of saying he pitched a fit about the absence of chicken. Much strong talk later, he was installed in his classroom with a warning to the teacher about how it could possibly not be the best morning at this point. I later confirmed that it was not. Because change and chicken. After class, it was another long talk and a wrangling to get him back into our pew for services. "I thought we were getting chicken..." Not yet, buddy. Another hour. Every moment of the service was punctuated with "Is it over yet? Are we getting chicken?" Paxton's Pavlovian response is that chicken undoubtedly comes after prayer, but the new order of worship made every transition in the service to include "When are we getting chicken?" At this point, the new changes had only severely affected Paxton. Because chicken.
The other change was the order of worship. Communion is now offered at the end of the service. And the order of communion is no longer cracker, juice, collection plate but collection plate, cracker, juice. All four of my children had their minds blown. I was not prepared for the fallout. Paxton thought it was time for chicken. The two little girls were freaking out because I didn't give them a quarter. Evelynn was beside herself because she thought she had somehow been left out of the cracker and juice portion. All four were having a pew-side conniption as I begged them to calm themselves. They were united in their consternation of "What is this madness?" And after communion Paxton said "Can we get chicken now?"
Services finally came to a close, and they sat there not even really sure it was truly over. Normally, my children disperse quickly, anxious to visit. It usually takes a posse that feels like herding wild cats to get all four kids out the door at the same time. All four of my kids were at the door, all four kids walked out the door at the same time, and all four kids got in the car. It was like they were so completely overwhelmed by the morning they just had to do something normal. It was weird. Paxton piped up from the backseat "So are we getting chicken now?" So we went and got chicken. And balance was restored.
