Dear Childless Churchgoer...

This Sunday is Mother's Day - a day for crowded brunches, well-intended/poorly executed breakfasts in bed, and roses, lots of roses. And while many poo-poo Mother's Day as yet another Hallmark Card-created holiday, it still stirs a wide-range of emotions for most people. Some of us will honor the mothers we have, and some of us will shed tears for the mothers we have lost, while others will celebrate the mothers they've become. But, there's another group, of which I am a member, and we are those who are not and will never be parents. In my family populated by widowed and divorced women who are moms, I am the one who will pay the tab for that Mother's Day brunch, and will buy the presents and the cards to celebrate these women, and I will sit, uncomfortably, in my church pew when the priest pays tribute to moms, and throws out the token inclusive eye roll-inducing phrase, "and those aunts and others who act like moms." To my church's credit, though, at least they don't get carried away with Mother's Day. Some churches hand out corsages to the moms. Some make the coffee hour into a Mother's Day themed gathering complete with handmade crafts from the children at Sunday school. I've got it easy compared to some of my other childless churchgoing friends!

And I don't mean to pick on Mother's Day, especially when churches struggle throughout the year to balance the needs of families with children and the mix of pain/irritation/apathy of the childless churchgoers. Churches have long-established practices to welcome families, from Sunday school to youth group, dedicated children and family clergy, children's choirs and children's chapel, nurseries for fussy babies where the church service is piped in over loudspeaker or closed-circuit TV, Easter egg hunts, vacation Bible school, and church summer camps and family-oriented Sunday worship services. As a membership-driven organization, churches know that ignoring families' needs limits growth. One two-parent family with two children generates not just revenue from their tithing and stewardship, but also many years and thousands of hours of service. These parents are the future Sunday school teachers, future choir members, and future lay leadership of our churches. However, there must be a careful and considerate balance of their needs along with those of the childless congregates who also contribute our time, treasure and talent for the good of the church and the community beyond its doors.

So let's get real and talk about one of the most difficult church experiences for the childless churchgoer: baptisms, specifically infant baptisms/christenings. Growing up Roman Catholic, christenings were done as private affairs with an invited list of family and friends, thus, making them easily avoidable for those uncomfortable with fawning over the little one. Some churches, however, thrust the christening directly into the regular worship services, inviting the whole church community to offer their witness, support and prayers for the newly baptized baby. This can be difficult for some childless churchgoers. A friend of mine who suffered multiple miscarriages simply stopped going to church altogether when she accidentally found herself sitting among a throng of white-satin clad infants with their support staff of parents, Godparents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles one unfortunate Sunday morning. At my own church, I was left in tears as the clergy began a time-honored tradition at my church that I jokingly refer to as The Procession of Los Babies, where the newly-baptized infants are taken down the church aisles to meet their fellow congregates as we all sing, "Fairest Lord Jesus". I could barely choke out the words of the first verse before I lost it. One of my childless crew mentioned that she avoids the christenings completely. I'm not quite at that point, though. It's just that these feelings come in waves and you don't know when that wave will hit.

There are some practical steps, though, that churches can take to minimize from these emotional waves. The first step is communication - use your church social media and weekly emails to inform the congregation at which Sunday service christenings will occur. This provides a childless churchgoer with some options. And, speaking of options, provide enough options for Sunday services so that the couple who's latest IVF treatment has failed doesn't have to deal with the holy "Romper Room" of a service geared towards families.

Next, use the creativity and imagination reserved for the children and youth activities to design fun, lively and engaging opportunities for your childless church family members. For example, my church has an annual retreat that is heavily family focused, with fishing and softball and hiking and swimming. It's like summer camp with worship. Why not offer an adults-only version of that instead of the usual adults-only retreats that are often quiet, monastic-lite affairs which are dull and unappealing at their best or, at their worst, become breeding grounds for over-sharing? Heck, you might even get some of the parents who want a sippy cup-free weekend!   

The final step is, hopefully, the easiest step for those in a faith community - don't judge and don't assume. Don't assume that the childless person sitting next to you on Sunday hates children and doesn't want to participate in creating a faith-filled upbringing for the children in your congregation. I've taught Sunday school and was at turns delighted and horrified about all of the things I learned about the toddler brain. I treasure those experiences. But, don't judge me if I decline to come back to the Sunday school classroom because I'm in the middle of one of those painful emotional waves. Don't assume that the woman balancing a 4-year old and a Ziploc bag of Cheerios is insensitive to the irksome squirmings of her child - she was once one of the childless, too, and she hasn't lost that ability to put herself in your shoes. So when that one lone slimy Cheerio ventures from her child's open mouth into my purse, her look of alarm will be greeted by my smiling face and we will feel a moment of recognition that bridges the distance of our different circumstances and unites us in faith. At least that's my hope.