I kneeled when everyone else did, but unlike the adults, most of my body was below the pew. Uncomfortable and bored, I hooked my arm pits over the wooden backrest in front of me and stretched out my arms to flop them about this way and that. Hearing the thumping sounds that I was making, one of the children in the pew ahead of ours turned around to stare at me.

Mom cleared her throat. It wasn’t a normal throat-clearing sound. It was a signal, and I knew I was in trouble. To meet Mom’s gaze, we both had to lean back a little to see around Daddy and one of my sisters who were kneeling between us. Mom didn’t frown. She just looked at me, but her gray eyes somehow managed to flip switches in my conscience. Her look made me feel ashamed of how I was behaving. Knowing I’d caused her to feel disappointed in me was like a heavy weight on my spirit.

Being a sensitive kid, Mom didn’t need to discipline me with spankings, angry scolding’s, time-outs, or suspended privileges. All it took to hurt my feelings and make me want to obey, was her giving me, “The Look”.

Since my childhood was a long time ago, it’s been a long while since I’ve thought about how Mom used stern looks to make me toe the line. Memories of Mom’s seemingly innocuous disciplinary “looks” came rushing back to me one night recently. It was bedtime and I was making my cats, Sadie and Jerry leave the main part of the house.

I am fortunate in having a house where a door separates the kitchen, dining room, living room and the bedrooms from the entryway and basement. When I sleep or leave my house, the cats live in the heated entryway where they have food, water, access to litter boxes and wonderful sleeping boxes with my brother’s old nylon winter coats for mattresses.

Jerry, the male cat, has black fur covering his head, ears and around his eyes. When I tell him it is bedtime, his wide-eyed stare is guileless and accepting. He purrs happily as I carry him to the house door.

Jerry’s sister Sadie can purr every bit as loud as Jerry. Her head has black fur only on her ears. Her white face appears to have frown lines on her forehead. The serious look in her eyes gives the impression that she is working on deep thoughts such as complicated mathematical computations or working on a way to end anger and aggression in this world. 

The other night, I realized that when I pick Sadie up to put her out for the night, she never purrs. She leans back to look up into my face as though she is farsighted. The disapproving look in her eyes fairly shouts that she is judging my behavior and finding it to be at fault.

Not a bit intimated by Sadie, who was grumpy about having to go to bed, I put my head against her and teased, “You’re such a sweet little girl!” Then opening the door, set her down on the entryway floor and firmly closed the door. This little white and black cat could wear a judgmental expression all day if she wanted, but she couldn’t make me feel guilty. Only my mother could successfully give, “The Look”.