An open letter

We’re here, even though you may not have noticed us. We don’t have anyone toddling up the aisle for Children’s Church. We don’t have a child in Sunday School. Or Mission Friends. Or Youth Choir. Or VBS. Or the church tee-ball league. But we are here.

Please don’t be offended if we don’t sign up on the nursery duty roster, or attend the class baby shower, or look uncomfortable during infant dedications, or come to church on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, two of the most difficult days of the year for people like us. It’s nothing personal –- against you anyway. It’s immensely personal for us.

Please don’t treat us like satellite members of the congregation. We’ve watched your children week after week, month after month, as they’ve grown up around us. We’ve seen them be promoted from grade to grade and applauded when they recited a memory verse for the congregation and later when they led a prayer. We’ve vicariously enjoyed their development for years.

Please don’t roll your eyes when we bring our spoiled dog to the church picnic.

Please don’t assume we lead a wild life full of expensive vacations and every night at a different restaurant or bar, hanging out until the wee hours of the morning just because we can. We don’t.

Please don’t label us as selfish, having chosen this life simply because we’re afraid of responsibility. We didn’t.

Please don’t offer commentary if you think our house is “So much space for just two people!” You probably don’t know about the office with the pink walls and empty crib stashed in the closet. You haven’t seen the boxes of folded up onesies and tiny shoes with the tags still attached that were hastily stashed in the attic after the latest round of bad news.

Please don’t remind us that, “You’re not getting any younger, you know.” We know. Believe me, we know.

Please don’t tease us when we’re holding someone else’s new baby by asking when it will be our turn.

Please don’t automatically assume that we want to hold someone else’s new baby.

Please don’t host children’s birthday parties where all of the families in the class with children are invited, and then spend the next Sunday laughing about inside jokes from the event.

Please don’t allow our adult class to become nothing but a discussion of our respective families. If this does happen, please don’t misinterpret our silence as apathy. If this persists, please don’t take it personally when we find another class.

Please don’t confuse “Christian man” or “Christian woman” with “Christian father” or “Christian mother.” They are not the same thing, and the former does not automatically presuppose the latter. Instead of making every sermon or every class lesson quite so role-specific, perhaps we could all just focus on being the best people we can be, regardless of the roles to which God has called us. Especially if they are roles that make our hearts ache with the burden they bring. Especially if they are roles whose cup we have prayed to pass from us. Especially if that cup hasn’t budged.

Please don’t mistake this letter as bitterness but rather, as testimony to the invisible families among you who are part of the Body but without a place in it.

Very sincerely and in the love of Christ,
The Childless Couple at your Church