I’ve never seen the Sierra Nevada Mountains, except perhaps in drifting over them in my mind on a Sunday with my posterior in a church pew.  A long time ago I used to fight this drifting, but anymore I close my eyes and enjoy the ride without distraction amongst the ancient ritual of the Mass.  Or I should say no distraction most of the time. 

Once, when I lived in Guthrie Center, I had a guy while we were standing lean over and whisper in my ear, “You know, I had a horse that could sleep like you once.”

This past Sunday I had a pew to myself, and when I heard two people come in and sit behind me, I figured it was the nice couple, whose kids have left the nest, which always sit there.  When it came time for us to kneel, though, the time when my mind usually reaches wherever it’s going, I found I was wrong.

It was then that I heard the patter of two little feet on the seat of my pew.  “A mother giving her kid exercise,” I thought.  But the patter came closer.  Undeterred, I kept my eyes closed, and undaunted the feet came closer still.  Finally I felt a little hand on my shoulder.

I turned from snowy summits to look into the face of their 18 month old namesake, Sierra, with big eyes and a face with a perpetual smile.  I smiled too.  She smiled more.  I was bluffing.

Having no kids of my own, the presence of someone else’s can be intimidating.  Intimidating was a word this gal didn’t know.  Her glance alternated between me and my two year old nephew, Bowen, who was in the pew ahead.  I picked Bowen up, set him down in my pew, and figured the two could captivate each other’s interest eye to eye.  I missed a second time.

Bowen was at least as intimidated as I was, and much poorer in showing it.  I was standing now, and he retreated behind me grabbing my leg.  Sensing weakness, and seeing she had him cornered, our little tiger shark closed in for the kill.  At the last second, I scooped down, plucked Bowen to safety, and returned him to the pew ahead.  I think she scared the hell right out of him, and I don’t suppose he’ll need to go to Mass again.

From his fortress Bowen watched his pursuer climb down and stand up on the kneeler to get closer to him.  Bowen feigned a loss of interest.  This I applaud him for, since women usually seize the opportunity to play hard to get first.  Sierra remained undaunted, however, and crept more and more onto the toes of her little black boots with her hand reaching out to seize her man.  I had to hand it to her.  This was a woman whom didn’t take “no” for an answer. 

All of the sudden her feet slipped out, her chinned dodged the back of the pew, and she did a twist worthy of the X Games in order that she might slam face down into the kneeler. 

If I remember my physics lesson correctly, it should have happened in about .4 seconds.  A lot can go through your mind in .4 seconds.  In the first tenth of it, I had removed all blame from myself.  I knew I would be no good at watching a child.  And her mother would have too, had she ever overheard me in the confessional.  I suspected she would have blushed, in fact.  After all, the priest does, and you would figure he had heard it all.  Perhaps he had never heard it all at once before.

(Now, in order not to overwhelm the man, I move around the divider and look at the priest face to face.  Once I begin, I continue until the priest looks embarrassed or looks at his watch.  Or embarrassingly looks at his watch.  Once we had a priest with the countenance of an angel, and the patience of Job.  The man would neither look embarrassed nor look at his watch.  I did find he would sweat profusely, however.  The next time the sacrament was offered, I came around the partition to find he had a sweat band on.  Seems he had been expecting me.  This was mortifying.  It was several years before I went back again.)

Unsure of what to do with a child in the first place, I was now positive I had broken one.  Expecting a wail from my feet at any moment, which would lead to lots of looks and unwanted attention, I quickly reached down to pick her up and get her back in her mother’s hands before Sierra uttered anything audible.  This way everyone would think her mother had done it.

But before I could, Sierra broke the silence with a loud “ugh.”  I suspect it was similar to the noise the skydiver made whose parachute failed to open but lived to tell about it.  She had taken the fall in stride, but I hadn’t got over the shock yet.  I grabbed her quickly to transfer her to her mother, but her mother was laughing so hard I was unable to complete the handoff.  I looked down into the same smiling face and big eyes I had seen before.  This time I offered no smile.  This kid was the Terminator.  Bowen could run, but he would never be able to hide.

To save him until he had developed some better motor skills, I held Sierra up by my shoulder, snuggly so she didn’t fall again. From this vantage she could look down on Bowen, and he timidly moved for protection behind the legs of his mother.

I suppose she’ll too have a horse like me someday.  Hopefully Bowen has a faster one.