Snubbing at Communion

Two Sundays ago was communion Sunday.  It's an exciting day for my toddler, because I carry her to the front of the church when it comes time to take the elements.  This particular Sunday, as we were walking down the aisle, I noticed that no one was following behind us.  "That's odd," I thought.  We had been sitting at the end of a pew, and the next row behind us should have been  following us.  It was clear that there would be plenty of room at the front.  It turns out that the people sitting in the pew behind us didn't want to take communion next to me and my toddler.  The church frowns upon children being in the worship service, because it views them as a distraction from the pristine and holy silence that they seek on Sunday morning.  I understand, and I have come to accept that there are people at this church who will never agree that my daughter should be there.  But this was communion.  This is the great act of church unity, eating and drinking from the one Savior's body.  I felt pained, because the ushers had to scrounge to find someone who would take communion next to us.  The lady who finally came forward was very strict with my daughter.  When we kneeled at the kneeling rail, my daughter reached out curiously to touch one of the little plastic cups in the holes on the other side of the kneeling rail.  "No," this woman said firmly, taking my daughter's hand and removing it from the cup.  The lady kept a watchful eye on my daughter through the ritual, just expecting trouble.  My daughter has never caused trouble at communion.  I have really struggled to process what happened at communion two weeks ago.  How does one find comfort and joy and thanksgiving in the reality of communion in Christ when the the way in which communion happens speaks so strongly against this reality?  It is really disheartening.  My only comfort has been in remembering the truth that Christ is bigger than the church's manifestation of him.