Please Don’t Move Over

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We thought we’d all show up for Sunday morning at a local church together, since it was Easter.

All 6 of us: Ma and Pa, 2 big kids, a toddler and baby in the Baby Bjorn.

Theoretically it was possible we could get there on time, if the eclipse happened at just the right time, the earth was tilted just so, and a taxi came by quickly.

We ended up walking for a bit before a cab came along, and showed up at 8:50 (about 20 minutes late).

We slightly forgot that it would probably be quite full.
As in tiny narrow benches where you kiss your knees–all jam packed with people wearing their heavy coats because there is no heat in the city anymore.

After we went to one of the upstairs viewing rooms (there are 4 rooms– 1 with the live action and 3 with big TV screens), walked through one to the kids’ area before the kids decided they’d rather sit with us, we realized we would need to sit on plastic stools in the back.

But the wonderful, kind, thoughtful Chinese would have none of it.

In the midst of joyful hymn singing, some people started hauling a few old ladies out of their seats to make room for some of us, and each parent sat in a different spot with two kids.

So I sat there with my oldest and the baby, ready to relax for a moment.
But only for a moment.

The same kind folks decided that we had to sit together as a family, and directed the elderly gentleman sitting between me and the wall, to move to the row in front of us.

With a little lifting and pushing from the row behind us, the poor guy hiked up a leg and clambered over the bench to squeeze in between two gray-haired maidens who were already fully engaged with playing with our baby.

There we sat, finally ready to savor the moment.

Not a little embarrassed at the ruckus we had caused with our tardiness.

But that was soon forgotten as we celebrated the Reason for our faith.
Happy Easter!

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