Donuts and Divinity

By Kathy Deters  

Though my oldest daughter enjoys attending Sunday School, my younger children are still a bit shy, so when we all attend church together, they’re never far from my side. Those who have seen me chasing my children through the church’s halls know, quiet meditation is not something that comes naturally to our family. Our children are full of energy and joyful noises—lots of joyful noises, in fact, most of which they choose to share at inappropriate times. 

And of course, the weekly burst of energy and activity they bring to church is only half of the Sunday morning battle; there’s the act of getting them all into clothes that are somewhat presentable, convincing them to brush their teeth, holding them down long enough to wash their faces and comb their hair, and negotiating with them over appropriate breakfast choices (why is there always leftover pizza in my fridge on Sunday mornings?) It is a routine that is reminiscent of a scene from The Little Rascals.

So I admit, I enjoy sneaking off to early service by myself occasionally. I adore my children more than I ever believed possible, but that one hour a week when I am able to meditate in prayer, reflect on the pastor’s message and be moved by the music recharges my spiritual battery. And so, this past Sunday, I found myself once again sneaking out the door, as my husband and children enjoyed their scratch chocolate chip pancakes.

I enjoyed the autumn drive; from our home in Lake Saint Louis it’s about 35 minutes, and takes me over the beautiful Missouri River, which is just starting to get a hint of fall color. But as I pulled onto Clarkson Road, enjoying my hour of solitude, I glanced over and happened to see a sign for the new Dunkin Donuts. I smiled.

In my mind, it’s a Sunday morning in Jefferson City, where I grew up. And it’s 1983. I recall those first years after my younger brother was born, my parents faced that same dilemma: He was simply too tiny to take to church. So instead, they took turns taking me, one attending church so the other could stay home and care for him. And afterward, my father and I would make a stop at Dunkin Donuts.

He would lift me onto a red vinyl-topped barstool next to a long, shiny bar. He would order me my favorite, a chocolate-iced, custard-filled éclair, and top it off with an icy Coke in a genuine, fancy, Coca Cola glass. We’d sit there, enjoying our donuts and talking about church that Sunday. What had I learned in Sunday School? Did I make any pictures? What songs did we sing?

Now I park in front of my own church, 30 years later and three children later. I walk inside and sit down--and immediately miss my family. I enjoy the music and the meditation. I smile and nod at the thought-provoking message. But in the back of my mind, I know that I will miss hearing my family’s interpretation of the experience. My husband and I won’t be able to compare notes on the sermon over coffee. My daughter won’t be able to tell me how her Sunday School lesson fits into life as a tween. I’ll miss my five-year-old’s weekly prayer on the bench in front of the church as we’re leaving.

While I still need that hour of quiet prayer and meditation all to myself every now and then, I realize that there is much to be gained from worshipping together as a family. My own understanding of my faith is made much richer and much deeper by helping my children develop their own understanding. Family and worship is the perfect pairing. Kind of like donuts and coffee.

Kathy Deters has a background in public affairs, and currently works as a freelance writer for St. Louis Sprout and About magazine. Transplants from the First Presbyterian Church in Jefferson City, Kathy and her husband Jeff are grateful to be members of St. Mark Presbyterian Church, which has provided lots of wonderful opportunities for their three children to enjoy. When she’s not writing and watching cartoons, Kathy enjoys watching Mizzou football and the St. Louis Blues. Go Tigers!