Wow, it's been a while since I last put in an entry. No, I have not fallen off the face of the planet. I was given the challenging task of planning a disaster relief trip to New Orleans after our leader had a change of plans. I had a week to get most of the trip organized prior to leaving. I am happy to report that despite the stresses and complete flip-flop of "my plan" over God's divine will, all went well. Yes, the trip was exhausting. Yes, my body aches from the labor. Yes, my brains as maxed out and everything I had was seemingly sucked from my between leading to working to participating. But I honestly can tell you that I would do it all over again. I saw some amazingly hard things and I still have a lot of it to process. But rest and time will aid in my recovery.
I have two stories from today to share with you.
#1. I helped out in the 2nd and 3rd grade Sunday school classroom this morning at Apex. We met together with the other Sunday school classes to hear some words from God's word from Phil Depp. Prior to getting settled we played a "fill in the time until all the students arrive and Phil gets here" game in order to keep the children from killing each other.
"I'm going to say something that's bad that can happen here on earth and you tell me some way that God can make it a good experience," the "big kid" teacher spoke above the restless crowd. Everyone quieted down and waited with eager anticipation.
"A snow day. Well, even if you don't think a snow day is bad. But you have a snow day and you don't get to go to school," She began the game.
Hands shot up into the air awaiting acknowledgment.
"You could shovel the old man's driveway from next door." Offered Ethan after he was called on.
"Excellent! That's a great way to show Jesus inside of you."
A few more students were called on and then a second situation was proposed.
"Ok, how about if your mom makes a dinner and she's been working on it for a very long time and she burns it or she makes something you don't like," the mother spoke from within this teacher.
Only a few hands rose while confused and troubled faces filled the crowd.
"Yes, Clay."
"You could refuse to eat it," the small boy offered.
"Hmm... I don't know if that's making the situation good..." the teacher continued on to the next child.
"Yes, Aleck."
"You could go into the kitchen and make something yourself." He spoke proudly and confidently that his answer was supreme, afterall he attained the surpassing wisdom of a huge third grader.
"Well, maybe you could offer to make something. Not just walk into the kitchen and start cooking, but you could offer to help make something else." The teacher attempted to tweak the child's answer.
"Yes, Bret." The teacher's voice was a bit more fearful as she called on the little girl with the knowledgeable smile on her face.
"Well, you could tell mommy, 'Mommy, I have tried that before and I've put it on my tongue and my taste buds in the past haven't like it and I know my taste buds and they tell me that I still won't like it, so I'll eat a little, but maybe can I have something else in a little bit?" she grinned from ear to ear, confident in her response.
All us teachers choked down our laughter. Even Phil, who had now entered the room, struggled to keep a straight face.
#2. I've been asked to watch a small handful of little ones while their parents go to a class between the two church services on Sundays. I was overjoyed to discover that I had Kylie and Avery today for the Getting Started kids. I had the two of them a little while ago for Homechurch leadership training and I looked forward to watching them again this morning. Kylie smiled her little four year old shy smile and said, "I haven't seen you in a long while."
"I know, Kylie, I've missed you," came my response. She smiled, twirling her leopard-print dress.
We went to Kidstown (a family-oriented children's production filled with singing, dancing and Bible lessons). I love Kidstown and often go to watch it despite the fact that I #1. am not a kid and #2. don't have kids. I have a few friends who are involved in the Kidstown joys, so it's neat to see them serving the Body of Christ.
Avery decided that his two-year-old self would do well sitting next to Kylie on the floor of the theatre. I personally was concerned for the petite child when I saw his look of near-overload on his little face. After a few moments on the floor, he decided my lap was safer. Kylie jumped and participated in the regular Kidstown craze, while Avery clung to my arm. When the excitement seemed to calm down Avery suddenly remembered that Mom was not with him and turned to me with tears in his eyes, "I want mommy...." he mumbled as he pressed his face into my shirt.
"It's okay, baby. We'll see her in a little bit. We get to watch Kidstown with Kylie. Yeah!" I attempted to lean on the Kidstown excitement once more.
"Mommy, mommy, mommy...." he began to work himself further into a frenzy.
I held him close, cradling him like a baby, "Oh, but Kidstown is so fun, look, there's a girl in a yellow skirt," I played into the art of distraction. Avery quickly took his head from my shirt and looked up onstage. He was captivated once more in all the excitement, especially the girl in the yellow skirt.
Periodically Avery turned to me and shared his attachment anxiety with me through various "mommy" outbursts. So I began to watch the child for warning signs. At the slightest hesitation or slightest change of his stature, I'd rub his back or narrate whatever was going on onstage. That was all he needed to feel loved and prepared to sit quietly once again.
I think I'm like that sometimes; maybe more often then I'd like to admit. When I'm in an uncomfortable situation or a situation that I flat out don't want to be in, I desire to feel someone's hand on my back or someone's kind words in my ear. It's not because I am needing a narrator of the situation. But in the gentle encouragement, I feel that someone else is supporting me. It's not that God has abandoned me or that I'm throwing the towel in on the whole situation. It's just the comfort and support of someone else wanting to be there with me, even in the fix.
That same feeling overcame me this past week while in New Orleans so I called my best friend.
I was looking for that hand on my back... an encouragement to keep fighting.
Thanks again, Kelly.
Guess Avery and I have something in common.
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