Life’s lessons come to us often unexpected and uninvited. So do blessings. I received one recently in an hour, and all I did was show up and pay attention.

It began after the usher guided me to a pew. A woman welcomed the congregation and said she especially wanted to include families with small children. She said, “Noise from our little ones adds much to our spiritual family.”

At that point, I noticed the young family in the pew directly in front of me. They had two girls—one looked to be around three, and the other was maybe four months. All was good for five or six minutes, then the baby got fussy, and the three-year-old wanted no part of sitting still. She rolled around in the aisle, threw her shoes, and continually tried her parent’s patience.

The parents smiled at each other, whispering calmly to both girls. The sermon was exceptionally long, and by the time church was over, the mother had fed the baby, and both parents had taken girls to the back of the church—twice. The father was equally involved, and when the service was over, there was nothing in the pew in front of me except a baby carrier, toys, blankets, bottles, shoes, and a diaper bag.

As I was leaving, all four came to gather their belongings. The baby was not crying, and the older girl was full of smiles. The parents looked as though they were past their last nerve.

I touched the woman’s shoulder and told her she was a great mommy. She looked at me with tears and, behind a sigh, said, “Thank you.”

I said, “God bless you for being here, and I hope you get a nap today.”  As the father looked at the oldest daughter, he said, “I hope somebody does.”

I said, “Trust me, we’ve all been there.”

The service was about how the church was a place for one thing—love—not division with each other and not politics.

The young family in front of me walked the walk. Never did the parents get cross with each other or either daughter, and love radiated through their probable embarrassment and evident frustration. They were a parenting team with solid faith, or they would have stayed in bed. Even with a fussy baby and a typical three-year-old, they both tried to sing and participated in the service.

Watching them took me back to similar times in my life but mainly filled me with hope and left me with smiles. Witnessing kindness and patience where there could have been anger and punishment was refreshing. The welcoming of families with small children, the message of love, and the family example in front of me provided food for spiritual renewal—always my reason for going.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

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