Brush with Fame Sunday Style

Sundays are difficult at our house. Even though we have 1:00 church, we can’t manage to be on time. This past week was no exception. I told the kids early in the week that Sunday would be our brush with fame because I had heard that our favorite wide receiver in the NFL was blessing his baby in our church. They were all excited about that, but to me it only meant one thing…we’d better show up early! 

We called the times down the stairs starting with "Fifty minutes!" That meant our big white bus would leave for the church in 50 minutes (really it meant 55 since my sweetie always padded it by about 5 minutes). I pulled the baby’s dress on and snapped her little shirt. Would I remember to throw a sleeper in the diaper bag this week, just in case? (Of course not, but you don’t really want to hear about another blowout!) 

"Thirty-five minutes!" I threw my boots from the balcony to the entry way floor. "Does everybody know where their shoes are?" I called. I picked up the baby and headed down the stairs. Kids were running every which way in various stages of church attire. I didn’t see a single one that was completely ready. We also take Taco and Burrito (our 4 and 6-year-old grandsons) with us to church and they were running around with everyone else. I started slicing ham for some sandwiches. 

"Twenty minutes!" my sweetie called from the office. He was gathering the lesson for the 12-year-old class. I set the sandwich makings on the counter. "Lunch if you are hungry!" I called. Kids came running from all directions. I headed into the living room to put on my boots. 

"Five minutes!" I called as I handed the baby off to Crafty so she could strap her into the car seat. I pulled Curly’s shoes on and zipped his coat. It was snowing outside. Kids started heading out the door. After everyone was buckled in we set off. Apparently we weren’t the only ones expecting a celebrity today. It was still five minutes to one and the chapel was packed! My sweetie insisted we sit in the foyer until the song and prayer were over, then he and Sport went into the gym to set up more chairs. 

We enjoyed the baby blessing from the foyer as well. Then they opened up the big doors to the gym and additional seating. The kids tromped noisily to their seats as we grabbed a row near the three-point line. It wasn’t long before hot wheels cars were zooming noisily across the floor. I had Princess quickly gather them up and we handed out the crayons. My sweetie was near the center with Curly and Burrito on the outside. I was on the other end with Scout and Baby Doll. The others were lined up in between us. Curly and 4-year-old Burrito were making a huge ruckus! 

Santa at last years Christmas party.

Finally, I stood up and tripped over kids all the way to their end of the row. I pulled Curly into my lap. I had spotted someone famous! No, it wasn’t a famous football player; he was out in the hall with his sweet little baby. I tapped Burrito on the shoulder. "Look over there," I whispered. "Santa Claus comes to our church!" Sure enough, our good friend had not yet converted back to his shorter red beard. He spent his holidays dressing up as the jolly old elf and except that today he was in a shirt and tie instead of his red suit, he looked every bit the part. "You know he is watching you two to see if you are being naughty or nice." Santa smiled and winked at the boys. Burrito’s eyes grew large and he turned around in his chair and folded his arms. Our brush with fame was complete. I looked at the clock. "Fourteen minutes!" I shouted in my brain. Maybe I’d make it after all.