Understanding Significance

Micah understands. Smiles, frowns, stares, joy, tension, relief, tone of voice: he soaks it all in like a sponge.
Seth's violin group had the privilege to play a song with an adult, community orchestra Sunday afternoon. We arrived early for practice, the kids buzzing around with excitement and trying their best to showcase various skills in front of the big guys. Micah thrilled, clapping his hand against his knee, laughing at the deep sound of the tuba. As we wheeled into the auditorium to scope out the seating, he waved his arms with glee. Unfortunately, the place was a bit old and stuffy. There was no special needs seating. The choices were to block the aisle and have others squeeze around us, stand as far as we could to the side, blocking the view of people who'd paid 12 bucks a pop to see their family members play, or peek from backstage. Since we wouldn't be able to stay for the whole thing, plan C seemed best. The crowd arrived. The bigger it got, the lower Micah's head sank. We settled quietly into a doorway in the narrow backstage hall, straining for a glimpse of Seth. He's waaaaaay in the back... ah yes! I see his ear. The orchestra began to warm up. Micah peeped through long lashes and cracked a tiny smile. The orchestra began to play. Up his head came as he recognized the song and began to sing along. The kids played very well. Relieved to be done, they emptied their seats, soon to be filed with the rest of the adult orchestra members. Pint sized fiddlers, filed past us with triumphant grins to happy applause. Micah grinned too.
"I'm going to need my case!" barked an impatient voice.
Oh. An adult member was glaring at Micah and me but there was nothing we could do. We were trapped between the case, the wall, and the never ending parade of kiddos, and so was she. Everything in her attitude said we did not belong, our presence insignificant to the task at hand. Her knuckles gripping the neck of her bass were white. Micah frowned, his eyebrows knit with worry. Quick flash of temper. Bite you tongue, Rach. I'm pretty sure I choked on it for a second, then concentrated on my "go to" verse for the moment: "Great peace have they that love thy law and nothing shall offend them."
"We'll be out of your way as soon as we can." Eeesh. That came out a bit louder than I'd meant. There we stood. Awkward and in the way, hoping for a break in the crowd. When it came, I jumped at the chance to scoot away. Micah's lower lip pooched out.
On the way home, my little musician patiently took turns spooning ice cream into little brother's now smiling mouth, and his own, when he confessed he had trouble keeping up with the group. "Why didn't they wait, Mom? I fell behind whenever I had to turn the page."
I explained that they couldn't. They had to stay together as a group, the show must go on. Seth fell silent. I could tell he was struggling with feelings of insignificance, just like Micah and I in the hallway. Thoughts ran through my mind of the many times I have made others feel that way, being so focused on my own agenda, that I left no time for common courtesy.
Now, at 3 am I toss and turn. All the biting things I'd love to have said run through my mind. Bleh. I'd have regretted them. Besides, with the way I felt at the time, it would most certainly not have been "speaking the truth in love." And the lady was just doing her job.
God, please help me to get over it. I don't like the way Micah and I were treated, but it is so wrong to stew over it. Help that lady, too. Who knows, maybe she's unhappy. I've no idea what her life is like or what she could be going through.
How different my Heavenly Father is. No matter how insignificant I may be to others, the creator of the universe takes the time to listen to my small prayer as if I were the only person talking.
And it is gone. Ahhhhh. Back to bed.
I'll explain this to Sethie and Micah later. And I know they will understand.