Family integrated worship

I often hear mothers complain that it is impossible to get children to be quiet in church, or conversely, who believe it is possible but cry out in desperation when time and again they suffer through mass. I also hear many different solutions offered from well-meaning parents that include deep pressure massage, hugs, patiently waiting for childhood to pass, snacks, coloring books, a bag of quiet toys, and other distractions. I have even heard some people  recommend pinching them to get them to snap back to attention(!)

The solution that I have found was not easy to implement, but once I began, I did not stop. Committed, I struggled through about six months of constant frustration on my end as I adjusted to having my kids WITH me and not being able to focus on worship the way I had been accustomed. In the beginning, it was a great struggle, because it required that I remain completely collected and calm, that I address every infraction but seem to be immersed and busy in worship, that I allowed no peep to come from their lips and that every blessed moment of my time in Divine Liturgy be simultaneously engaged in adoration of God and the deep trenches of motherhood where fear and panic and desperation often lurk.

Along the way, little things convinced me that that keeping them with me was the right thing to do. Even before my return to the Church, I felt guilty putting them in children's church. I knew they were playing and coloring pictures and not in worship. I knew they weren't seeing me and their father worship and thus not gleaning the importance of it from us. Even when they went to children's church or the nursery guilt free---- I started to notice that they got sick. EVERY TIME. And the cycle was exhausting. One day, my husband decided we were going to attend a church that simply didn't HAVE a childen's nursery. I had a moment of panic, but also recognized the value of what I was being asked to undertake. Motivated by Charlotte Mason's motto for her students, I breathed in deep and said under my breath: I can, I am, I ought, and I will.It was time.

Determined to stick it out until it was DONE and they were trained, I endeavored to do the only three things I knew to do:

1. Expect them to behave. I knew they were capable, because I had been to churches where I had met children who behaved. I had seen neat rows of families with mother on one end and father on the other end and children who listened and were reverent and wore matching clothes with brushed hair. I had stared at those families with awe and wonder and a hushed sense of the sacred Presence while my own beasts wriggled and squealed and hollered and bit pews and worked on stealing the pencils and tearing apart the hymnals. I knew it COULD be done and I determined to expect that my little monkeys were just as capable as any other children. I also sat right in the front, to ensure that they could see and be a part of what was happening. Sitting in the front also puts the pressure on. People can see us.

2. Ignore their attempts to lure me into conversation and attention-giving during liturgy. Every attempt they made to talk to me was met with a swift "Shhhhh" and a redirection towards the front. I used the same theory I use at night with my babies: Don't turn on the light, don't make eye contact, no noise. Even trips to the bathroom were swift, unconversational, and non-interactive. Mass is only one hour long. It seemed to me that anyone-- even a toddler or a pregnant mother-- could forego water or snacks during that hour. No food. No drinks. No books. No toys. No games. Just Liturgy. That was the plan.

3. Address bad habits immediately. I didn't want my kids to drop things and make noise, and I knew that if they had things to hold... they inevitably WOULD because that's what kids do. So I didn't give them coloring books or snacks or toys. I didn't give them books or children's missals because I knew they would read them instead of paying attention. I explained my expectation, and I trained them in it at home whenever I had the opportunity to (for example, when we pray the liturgy of the hours together in the morning and at night.) If I saw that a child was particularly unruly I was not beyond taking them out, but when I took them out I made the experience as horrid and bland as possible. If perchance I was forced to take out an unruly one year old (that's the hardest age because they are still so young but also so loud) we would just stare at a wall for a few moments til they realized liturgy was more interesting. I didn't let them get down and run around, play, or run in the narthex. As soon as they were reasonably quiet again, we would return to our seat.

Our reasoning for the solution I determined to use is that we are a Charlotte Mason education family. CM believed wholeheartedly that kids could rise to the occasion when we expected more of them and treated them with respect. She was pro-parental authority (the parent sets the standard) but also pro-respect of the child as a person with rights and the capacity to do well.
She never manipulated, used love or fear, etc to motivate the child, but rather believed that parents should model good behavior themselves and train in good habits from the beginning-- and not allow bad habits to ever take place in the first place.
In other words, if we don't eat or draw in church, there is no reason a kid should, so from the beginning we expect and train the child to pay attention without using fear or love or bribes or manipulation as a tactic. They catch on very quickly---- and although I still have to take my one year old to the back from time to time, even she understands to lower her voice and sit still during the one hour we are at mass, and I am quite certain that if I never let her get in the habit of doing anything else it will stay that way.

Also, habits come by practice. Because we pray the liturgy of the hours as a family and they are also required to sit still and be attentive at that time, it isn't a foreign situation when we go to mass.

In the beginning, it worked pretty well, but there were still struggles, particularly when I was alone with the kids (my husband is often gone).
One day, my husband said to me, rather harshly, that though I was doing a good job, I was still enabling any bad behavior that came from them because I paid so much attention to it.
Calm redirection, he told me, was ALWAYS better than any reaction I was having.

Watching him with my children from the back while I rock a sleepy, loud, baby has sometimes been funny. I have seen the kids get to all sorts of shennanigans behind his back as he worships, but ultimately, they have been quiet, which is the main goal, and undistracting to all but ME, which is the other goal.

The hardest moment in my mothering came when I felt that I had finally arrived-- as per the above-- and that I could now rest in the peace of knowing that I had done a good job. In the car on the way home from mass one day I casually mentioned it to my husband and mentioned in a joking matter how glad I was for my quiet times of prayer at home when I could really HEAR God.
To my shock and surprise, he chastised me heavily for not paying attention during mass.

At first, I felt this was completely unfair--- I was supposed to keep everybody under control, excel at that AND find a way to listen??? But then I realized that he was more than able to do so.
I determined from that day to do even better, and though I haven't "arrived" yet I can say that I am now both able to keep our kids quiet and attentive AND am able to narrate the homily and say that I was able to pray during liturgy. It truly is a glorious level of peace we reach when we get to this stage in our motherhood.

I have strong feelings that this is a skill that REALLY helps children to grow both in confidence in themselves and in their relationship with Jesus. I also have strong feelings that it's an important skill to teach them because I am a firefighter's wife, and my kids have had to represent him by behaving well both at funerals and award ceremonies where misbehaving children are seen with much less empathy than the kids that act up during mass where people at least are thinking: "I'm glad they are there." Because we have insisted that they can, will, and ought to behave and pay attention during mass, they can represent their father in public events like that and truly give honor to the person being honored (in the case of Mass-- to Jesus!) and that makes my heart so happy.

I am praying for all of you who have not yet found the "perfect" solution to get them to pay attention, as it is such a valuable life skill. God reward all of you for your faithfulness to keep trying although it is -- as I well know--- a very, very difficult task.

Please do not think I am sitting here with my feet up and all the answers--- I too struggle when my younger children have decided to misbehave on any given day. But I do have peace, because I know what to do, and my intention in writing this is not to say that I am better than you or that my kids are better than your kids, but rather to share that peace and the means by which it came. As far as I'm concerned, all is grace. These ideas came from the example of holy mothers who have gone before and are the fruit of hours spent in tears in the bathroom holding an unruly child.

Incidentally, my mother in law still pulls out her organizer and writes notes in church and passes them around to people in the pews. She is in her sixties.

Train up a child in the way that he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.
Proverbs 22:6