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”.

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