Last week my second graders wrote their own verses for this poem, which we displayed in our hallway on colorful, sponge-painted “suns.” They did a beautiful job and I’d like to share them with you as a reminder that, no matter what your circumstances are, God is in control.
When I worry about scary movies, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m afraid of climbing high in a tree, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because people are mean, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I worry about a school test, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m afraid of nightmares, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because no one wants to play with me, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I worry about being stung by a jellyfish, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m afraid of thunder and lightning, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because I hurt my friend, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I worry about kids teasing me, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m afraid of wars, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because my friend goes to the hospital, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I worry about the world ending, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because somebody hurts my feelings, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because my sisters don’t want to play with me, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I worry about what’s going to happen, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m afraid of the dark, I remember, the sun will always float.
When I’m sad because no one wants to play with me, I remember, the sun will always float.
Communion is a sweet word. It evokes a sense of shared experience with others and the joy of celebration. When I have communion with someone, I participate in their life; we have an intimate connection with each other. I love the communion I have with my family and friends, but even more special is the communion we can have with God.
At church this morning we celebrated our communion with God by sharing bread and juice during the Lord’s Supper. This is always a special time for me, but occasionally I have the opportunity to serve the elements as a pastoral care elder. Each time I participate in this way I am so blessed.
In our church people come forward to receive the bread and juice. Elders and pastors stand together in pairs at the front of the sanctuary; one carries a platter containing small pieces of pita bread while the other holds a large wooden goblet filled with grape juice. As people come forward, they take a piece of bread and dip it into the juice and then eat it.
As I stood at the front of church this morning and watched the overflowing aisles, I was filled with a sense of joy for God’s love. I don’t know everyone’s name or the circumstances in their lives, but God does and He invited them all to come and participate - to have communion with Him (and each other). It was such a privilege to look directly at each person that came to me, touch his or her arm or shoulder, and give a personal message from God to them: “The blood of Christ was shed for you.” People reacted differently: some saying “Amen” or “Praise God” while others just nodded their affirmation. A few didn’t maintain eye contact and just looked down, and one woman looked like she was about to cry. People of all ages came forward and I wondered how God has worked in each of their lives. I felt a deep connection to each as I smiled at and spoke to them; I felt like a conduit, channeling God’s love to His people. It was a holy experience. Making it even more special was the fact that over 30 middle and high school students professed their faith this morning and enjoyed this special communion service for the first time.
I’m so thankful that God desires to have communion with us. The fact that he sent his son, Jesus, to die and pay the price for our salvation is amazing. That He wants to be intimately involved in our lives is comforting. And the way He uses the service of Communion to further develop communion between himself and other people is oh so sweet.
I see the panic in his face as he walks across the wet floor. His arms are crossed together in front of him as he shivers in the cool air. Cautiously he walks toward the diving board and the deep pool of water. Today is the day his swimming class jumps off the diving board for the first time. I know he is scared and doesn’t want to jump. I know he is afraid of the water. I know this is really hard for him. I want so badly to leave my seat on the bleachers, to open the gate that separates spectators from swimmers, to run and hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to jump. But I stay in my seat, lock my eyes on his 8-year-old body, and offer a silent prayer for him. He climbs on the diving board and walks forward, grasping a large orange swimming noodle around his waist. His teacher follows behind him. As he stands at the edge of the board, the teacher softly encourages him and, holding the edges of the noodle, lifts him off the board and gently drops him into the water. He did it! And he does it again and again. I’m so proud of him. I can't wait to give him a high-five after class.
As I watched my second graders go through their two-week swimming lessons at the Aquatic Center, I saw differences in their personalities and comfort level with swimming. Some loved the water and swam like fish; others were more fearful of the entire experience. My attention was most often focused on the “beginner” group, partly because that’s where I belong (I flunked swimming lessons as a child and now rely primarily on the back float and “doggie paddle”), but also because I know it’s difficult for them. As a teacher who loves them, I wish they didn’t have to do something that’s so hard for them.
I also feel for my students that struggle with some area of schoolwork or the social aspect of school. I love “my” kids. I want them to be happy. I want them to understand things the first time. I want them to have friends. I want life to be easy for them. But that doesn’t always happen. And I hurt when they hurt.
And yet, it’s often in the struggles that we learn the most. There is joy in finally succeeding and overcoming obstacles. Besides, I also want my students to learn perseverance and courage and compassion. These life skills are developed through struggles. So I continue to do my job: guide, teach, and love these children. Praise them for their successes and encourage them amidst their struggles. And pray for them.
I’ve just spent three delightful days immersed in literature at Calvin College’s Festival of Faith and Writing. Well, actually two of the days were delightful. By Saturday I had developed the typical “brain freeze” that usually accompanies conferences lasting longer than a day, and I walked around in a bit of a fog. But still. What a gift to spend three days listening to stories, poems, and essays by the very people who created them and learn about their creative process and life experiences. And even more, to hear how their faith impacts their writing.
Language is a gift from God. Words themselves are a gift from God. The very idea of communicating - both with God and other people - is such a wonderful and important gift from God. I enjoyed hearing from authors Wally Lamb, Lisa Samson, Peter Manseau, Scott Cairns, Avi, Kate diCamillo, and Sally Lloyd-Jones, as well as others. Although some write for adults and others write primarily for children, a common theme emerged: the interdependence we have with each other. We are relational people, and language - words - reflects that.
Kate diCamillo spoke about the fact that life is both beautiful and difficult and literature (for adults and children) should reflect both these truths. Lisa Samson shared how her novels portray her faith journey as she has learned to marry her belief and faith practices in books like Quaker Summer. Wally Lamb’s books deal with the theme of quest - his characters often search for the meaning of life, turning from some type of chaos to find order. And Peter Manseau and Dara Horn described how we find universal truth, even in books written about a specific culture or time period.
I come away from the conference with a renewed appreciation for the beauty of words, a desire to improve my own writing and the writing of my students, a recognition that published authors are “regular” people, and a challenge of recognizing who my neighbor is and how I impact them.
I also have a new reading list that will definitely last through the summer!
