When I was tiny I remember my mother and father dragging me to the local church. A church that had been around for around 900 years and was very old, cold and dark. My father was very strict and demanded my sister and I were silent girls. We stood there in our best coats gloves and hats in silence. I always drifted off into a dream world of things far more exciting than listening to an old man in a long white dress saying things that made no sense.
The church was old and small and had lots of history, something I appreciated when I grew older. When I had my children I decided that they should experience the same as me so my mother and I took them both to the same church every Sunday. By the time my children were born the church had a 'family service' which was designed for the little ones. This meant I was able to understand it at last and it held a little more interest.
My ex husband never really came along to the church with the excuse that a bolt of lightening might come down and strike him!! Never really understanding that but being relieved that he stayed at home my mother and I made a point if bursting into the church, slightly late and usually forcing the last bit of breakfast into the children!
I remember vividly my daughters Christening. My son was about 2 and the Rector always insisted the children were allowed to run up and down the isle and play with the toys at the back of the church. Well there we were all circled around the font spouting the usual words on the card designed for Christenings when my son rushed up to the font and said whats in here mummy. Holding onto the edge of the font and pulling himself up to see what was inside. Now the top of the font was a loose bowl and as he heaved up the bowl tipped up and poured all the Holy water over the Rector and everyone else's feet!
At Christmas time the church has a massive tree at the front and of course the children wanted to inspect it, only my son wanted to see if it was fixed to the floor, was strong and if he could move it. Not realising that he was inside the tree, during the carol 'Come o ye faithful' we saw the tree swaying backwards and forwards and eventually starting to fall. Many people from the choir and pews all rushed forward to catch the toppling tree only to find my son crawl out from underneath saying 'mummy the tree isn't in the ground'.
Another time my son was playing with another little boy, at the back of the church, with the box of toys and during the quite pray time suddenly they came charging up the isle holding the flag poles as swords and pretending to fight!
All these things were very embarrassing and my mother and I were horrified but the Rector always told us not to stop the children as he liked them to have freedom in the church and feel like it was their home!
Looking back on these fun times we had many a laugh and the children have fond memories of it.
This is the website to my old church - St Martin's of Tours Chelsfield
http://www.stmartinchelsfield.org.uk/
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