Unexpected lessons in cry room at Mass

The night before (July’s) first Friday I told the kids to be ready to wake up early to go to Mass. Two of them mentioned going early enough for confession.  The last time we went to attend confession they walked all the way, in front of everyone, to the confessional door and before they could go in, Father walked out.

One frustrated little girl comes back and says, “Did you see that? I was like all embarrassed.” I assured them we would make it in time. You see the past two Fridays we went, I knew I needed to go to confession but I had no intention of getting there in time. I only thought of myself. I thought the thing that I needed to especially go for was not any fault of mine so there was no rush to remove it. 

I remained in the lie that I deserved to sulk through this issue. What a fool I can be. We woke up early and made it to Mass at the exact same time Father was walking in, and we in tandem walked to the confessional side of the church.  


My oldest closed her door at the same time he closed his.  I smiled about the different door situation this time. While in Large Marge (family car) on the way I informed the kids what I wanted them to do when we got there. My oldest would go first, then the other two. I would go last and hold the baby while they went. 

After my big girl finished, she would go straight to the cry room because the baby is in straight “go rogue” mode, and I wouldn’t want her to wrestle Father while I was spilling my sins. The other two were to sit in the pews outside of the cry room so that I could eyeball them from behind while in confession. 

The final part of the plan was for me to relieve my oldest in the cry room, and she would join the middles with the rest of the congregation.  I didn’t want us all in there because they believe it is okay to act differently, not as respectfully, and I did not want Dragon Momma to appear in church. I left the confessional and had no idea how much grace the Lord was about to rain on me for deciding to take my pain to him and give the kids a chance to go to reconciliation too.  

I walked to the other side of the church and saw them all sitting in the cry room, and my breath started warming up. My oldest would not even make eye contact, my youngest daughter was showing me prayer hands and making the “please” face, while my oldest son was throwing such a charming smile that I was almost blinded. I went in, sat and sighed. 

“Y’all, what did we talk about?” They didn’t say much.  The lights were like heat lamps and I also felt them so bright that we may be soon interrogated. We turned them off and the mood changed. It immediately became an intimate space for my kids and me to worship. Father processed in and we collectively replied very loudly. At that moment I knew this was something only the Lord could manifest.  

This opportunity turned into me teaching them what I knew about the Mass. My kids go to public school so this is on me and my husband. It’s worth noting that I went to Catholic school K-12 and I do not recall being walked through the Mass. Also worth noting in case my favorite Carmelite Sisters catch wind of this is that it’s super possible I could not have been listening. 

This small, dark space transformed into a classroom where I could say aloud all the things I say internally during mass. Before the Gospel, I spoke to them, “May the word be in my mind, on my lips and in my heart.”  

I told them how during consecration we gaze in reverence at the Eucharist and precious blood as it is raised and bow when the priest bows to our Savior and all his glory. I was able to direct them more closely to the most powerful and important parts of the eucharistic prayer. After we responded “and my soul shall be healed” we all prayed the Act of Contrition audibly.  

I told them how I always ask the Blessed Mother to come into my heart at that time so she can better show me how to love her son.  We then got up, ready to receive the Lord together. The scheme of giving my kids the stank eye from behind a glass wall would never have allowed for this. When we returned, I stressed how God is closest to us at that instant. “Tell him how much you love him and whatever you feel you need to tell him,” I told them.

 Now I am painting a picture of this for you but please know that there was an occasion when someone asked me mid-homily if she could buy Bubble Yum from Rouse’s with the pocket full of quarters she jangled at me. In addition, there were several times we had to dodge missal missiles thrown by turbo baby. 

Speaking of the bebe, that tiny little thing was able to kneel on the floor with us and respond in his own loud way too. The big kids picked up on his observations and started to guide him when they weren’t pulling him away from banging on the window like he was the police. It was the coolest combination of real life and a little bit of heaven. 

Once again my idea was insufficient. I thought to enjoy Mass I needed them to be in a certain place doing a certain thing. Bamboozled again. Please let my lesson encourage you to possibly do the same with your children. If you can, no matter their age, if they are still in your house try to make it to a quiet early morning weekday Mass. Sneak like a ninja and sit in the cry room with them. Faithfully talk through the Mass together. Teach them your favorite parts and highlight the times you experience the most peace and love. The Holy Spirit will show up and guide you through it, you only need to send out the invite. 

Eldridge is a Catholic mom living in the Diocese of Baton Rouge facing the same challenges all families face.