Ariella's First Amen

There's something sacred about seeing your child in church for the first time—not just physically present, but really there. Eyes wide. Hands wiggling. Heart soaking in the warmth of worship. 

It was a regular Sunday morning at Zion. Coffee in hand, diaper bag over my shoulder, an Ariella tucked into her soft leopard print blanket, I walked through the doors half-expecting to sit in the back and quietly survive the service. But God had other plans. 

As the band started playing and voices filled the room, I watched Ariella's tiny face light up. She stared at the worship lights, cooed during the sermon, and in a moment that nearly made me drop my coffee—let out a little "ah-men" babble just as Pastor Jason wrapped up prayer. 

It might've been baby gibberish. It might've just been good timing. But to this mama's heart? It was holy. 

Bringing her to church isn't always smooth. Sometimes the bottle spills, or I forget the burp cloth, or we have to sneak out halfway through. But every time we show up, I'm reminded: faith isn't about perfection—it's about presence. 

Ariella is already growing up in a place where grace sings louder than our chaos. Where people greet her by name. Where her mama learns week by week how to worship in the mess, with spit-up on her shirt and praise on her lips. 

Her first "Amen" won't be her last. And neither will mine.