#478. Sitting next to sick people at church.
My children have the uncanny ability to cough directly into my mouth when they’re sick. I don’t really even know how they do it. They go to preschool and bring home a new cold every week. First they pass it back and forth to each other like a Nerf football and then they say, “It’s dad’s turn, let’s cough in his mouth.”
When I realize they’re trying to “gift” me with some sort of whooping cough I try to walk that awkward line between “I want to show them affection but I don’t want an infection.” So for a few days I shift into “pat on the head” mode before bed instead of “kiss on the cheek.” Or at least I try to do that but then they ask me to read a story and I of course give in because I love them and they sit on my lap and then proceed to cough directly into my mouth.
But church is different. I don’t have to give in to people that are sick and refusing to stay home. The kid gloves can come off when it’s cold season and folks in your row are blowing their nose like it’s an instrument they’re adding to the worship experience.
So how do you deal with people that come to church with a cold? I have a few ideas:
1. Wave to them during the meet and greet.
During the announcements, identify anyone in your immediate area that is trying to nurse a secret cold. Look for cough drops being unwrapped and crumpled up Kleenex. Then, when the pastor says, “Turn to someone and tell them you’re glad they’re here” get ready to wave. The first few will be awkward, denying someone whose germ ridden hand is stuck out to you is never an easy thing, but by the third wave you’ll have it down. It’s also a nice way to greet the maximum number of people but that’s another post for another day.
2. Don’t buy the “it’s just allergies” excuse.
The best thing to say if you have a cold and you don’t want people to know that you plan to stay home from work on Monday but insisted on coming to church on Sunday is to tell them “it’s just allergies.” Sure it is. It’s the dead of winter, there’s not a plant species alive right now. We haven’t had pollen for months, but you’ve got allergies. Right, you’re allergic to the germs that cause the common cold. So am I. That’s why I’m waving at you.
3. Bring them Kleenex.
That’s kind. I mean the rest of this list is jerky, but me suggesting that you bring someone else Kleenex is compassionate, right? Maybe, but this next part won’t be. When you see someone trying to wipe their nose on their sleeve, hold up your box of Kleenex as if to say, “Hey sleevy, need a Kleenex?” When they shake their head yes, and this next part is critical, don’t hand the tissues to them. Kick them over to their general direction with your foot. It will take a little while for you to turn into a pew Pele, but it makes no sense to wave at someone during the meet and greet and then essentially shake hands with them when you give them a Kleenex. Trust me on this one, use the foot Luke.
4. If they bring their sick kids, just give up.
If your kids are too sick for Sunday School, they’re also too sick for big church. But sometimes we parents will insist on plopping down our mucus machines right next to 40 people in the sanctuary because we’re worried they’d get the 8 people in their Sunday School class sick. Makes no sense, but it happens. And if it does, go ahead and embrace the fact that you’re going to get a cold. Kids are just that good at spreading germs. It’s like they’re in some sort of union, holding secret meetings amongst themselves and sharing tips on the best way to projectile sneeze. (It’s my belief that during these secret meetings they also discuss ways to argue about things that do not warrant an argument. The other day my kids passionately argued with each other about whose lips were the most chapped. I was baffled at how to referee that one.)
Ultimately, I need to print this list out and give a copy to everyone around me at church. I came to service sick a few weeks ago. But in my defense, I initiated the wave during the meet and greet, saying, “Can’t shake today, I’m sick. Can’t shake today, I’m sick.” People seemed to appreciate that. Or they hated me. It was hard to tell through all that cold medicine I was on for my “allergies.”
