Locked In With My Best Friend

The woman cleaning the church locked the doors and I asked, "Do we need to leave?" "No," she said, "when you go the door will just lock behind you." And then my little one and I were locked in the church, alone with the Blessed Sacrament. I had a lot of things with me, snacks and books and crayons for Little Baby. I had camped in the church to chat about all the things you would chat about with your Bestie, and complain about all the things you would complain about to God. It was going to take hours. But at that moment, Little Baby asked me to read her a story. "Come on," I said. And knowing we were alone in the church, I led her directly in front of the altar and sat on the floor. I looked at the Tabernacle and said, "I think if someone else were here they would accuse me of being crazy or drunk (1 Samuel 1:12-15)!" (1 Samuel chapter 1 is the very story for which my daughter is named. I laughed. I'm sure He laughed too.) I read to Little Baby a book about animal mothers and their babies and asked her with each page, "Who made this mommy?" She pointed to the Cross. "And who made this baby?" She pointed to the Cross. "And who made me?" She pointed to the Cross. "Who made you?" She pointed to the Cross. It wasn't an act of liturgical worship, And yet, it was worship. Something as ordinary as reading my child a story became a marvel of the one who is Creator and Storyteller, my God and my Best Friend.