A Secret Place, by Kaitlyn Lanham

A church sanctuary is called a sacred place. It is. Yet it’s also a secret place. When it’s emptied out of worshippers, a certain peace descends, until those who know the secret enter. Then whispers creep down the aisle, shadows slip under pews, and small footsteps scamper toward back doors.

As a deacon’s kid growing up, I spent a lot of time after church waiting for parents. And who else would still be around waiting for their parents after a service but the pastor’s kids? Now I don’t know what you have heard about the behavior of pastors’ kids, but just believe as much as you do about every other stereotype, and you have a picture of these kids. Except that these pastors’ kids also tried to be proper even when no adult was around.

One of the best games to play when waiting for parents after a service, especially when you’re trying to forget that it’s an hour after a normal lunch time, is hide-and-seek tag in the emptied sanctuary. This is still a great game to play, more so at night. But I digress. This was a secret place for us to play. We were never told to stay out of the sanctuary, but we knew playing was probably frowned on when it involved running around the sacred place. 

This is my version of what happened that afternoon. It was me and John and Ryan, the pastors’ kids. They had an older sister, but she wouldn’t play; she wasn’t a fun person. Now they did not want to play tag, only hide-and-seek. Hide-and-seek turns into tag; it’s an unwritten law of childhood. Ryan was “it.” He was also the youngest. The best hiding spots can be found near the front or the back of the sanctuary under a pew; shadows are abundant and there are doors that lead to staircases when cover is blown. We knew you couldn’t run on the stage or hide behind the altar. Those places were avoided like a Biblical plague. If you were spotted near one, this was quickly announced. Ryan reveled in tattling (another reason for being “it” most of the time). John and I darted into the sanctuary, diving under our respective pews. Ryan never knew we started in the same spot, moving by army crawl to different locations once he started looking.

Now a difficulty of hiding under a pew is that bumps and bangs occur to the head. Some people know this is a side effect of the game and just say “ouch,” rub their head and move on. They don’t insist on First Aid being applied. Others run crying to their mother. Let’s just say Ryan was one of the second types. And if a pastor’s kid was in trouble with a deacon’s kid in the vicinity, who do you think was blamed?

This is Ryan’s possible version; he was a proper person. The phrase “too big for your britches” applied to his personality.

Why do I have to be “it”?! I’m always “it”! John and Kaitlyn should have to take a turn. But no…. they yell that I’m “it” and run off. Where do they hide? They always hide in the sanctuary....I don’t think we should play in there. It’s kind of scary in there without people. Mom says we’re not supposed to play around here at church. Kaitlyn always gets to play around. She never gets in trouble. But I’m not going to play hide-and-seek any more. The last time I almost got a concussion from hitting my head on a pew. And John and Kaitlyn told me to just be quiet while blood gushed from my head. I knew they wouldn’t help me; I had to stumble around yelling for my mom. Kaitlyn is in trouble; she was the one that wanted to play hide and seek.

This is my mom’s possible version of that afternoon.

I was chatting with some ladies in the foyer while the children disappeared into the sanctuary, which they thought was off limits. We moms could hear everything that went on in the big, empty room. Hide-and-seek tag had started. Ryan could be heard counting. He was very good at counting by fives to a hundred. The ladies and I chit-chatted some more. Silence was in the sanctuary. The children were trying to find each other’s positions in the room. Kaitlyn and John would have started in the middle left side and moved up toward the door near the organ. Ryan slithers around the perimeter of the room. Shrieks and footsteps should be heard any second. Instead, a long yowl escalated to a piercing scream, which demanded that a mom come from behind the doors. Ryan burst through. His hand was clutching a bump on his head. He was babbling something about Kaitlyn being at fault. Not again.