Yes, but does the pastor do summersaults?

So most of you know the routine. Near the beginning of the service, our pastor has everyone meet and greet. I used to cringe internally during this time because I'd pretty much metted and gretted everyone I was comfortable with before being commissioned to do so. That meant I had to wander AWAY FROM MY PEW in order to avoid blinking slowly at the people around me I'd already hugged hello or punched in the shoulder.

Now days I pretty much just head for the back of the church and fling myself at anyone. Still, the problem with a church our size (which isn't huge, but fairly large for a smallish town), is the real possibility that I could introduce myself to someone, asking if they're a visitor, who not only already knows who I am -- in fact used to be my soccer coach or sell my dad hogs -- but has been a member of the church since the Kennedy Administration.

While all the "good morning!" "how are yous" are under way, the younguns in the congregation charge up on stage and gather 'round our pastor, who is about to begin the children's sermon. Each Sunday there's quite a gaggle of kids up there, of all shapes, sizes and backgrounds. I hardly ever pay close attention to the sermon because I'm so intent on studying their little faces.

Roy and I have been members of the church for almost nine years, and for the last five I've wondered what it would be like to see my children up there. Class promotion took place this summer, and Madeline -- who will start kindergarten next month -- began attending the main service with us. So she's one of those kids now.

Almost from the first Sunday she went up on stage, she did it. When the children's message is over, the pastor prays. Then he motions for the kiddos to head back to their pews. There's stairs on either end of the stage. All the kids go to one set of stairs or the other.

All but Madeline.

She walks right to the center of the stage, grins to herself just a little. And leaps off. She doesn't just scoot over the edge. She throws her hands up in the airs and jumps up ... and out. Then -- whump! -- she lands.

Roy and I sit amongst the teenagers at the front, center of the church, and I always hear a few of them giggle. I guess they've started, like me, to anticipate her exits.

It's not ladylike, the way she removes herself from the stage. I want her to be ladylike, in most things. I've thought about telling her she has to walk off the stage. But I can't bring myself to do it. If it ever appears she's begun to perform, well I'll end it then. But for now, I don't believe she thinks much about other people seeing her. I don't think she's trying to get attention -- she doesn't look out as she leaps.

No, I think she just sees the stairs as a boring way to get where she needs to be. Hurling herself off the stage is, well, fun. And the mood after a children's sermon isn't particularly reverent anyway. So, for now, I'm going to let her leap. Who says church has to be all "every head bowed; every eye closed"?

Phooey. King David stripped off his shirt and danced through the streets praising God. Madeline can leap.

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