5 posts tagged “church”
" -- It's Everywhere I Go..."
Saturday evening, we went to our church's Mission Auction. Long story, which I won't go into, but the important thing is, our crib didn't sell (bummer; and it is NOT coming back into this house!), and somehow we ended up with a foosball table AND a singing teddy bear.
The teddy bear was beloved of Precious Princess, and her grandma -- who also goes to our church and was at the auction -- was bound and determined to win it for her. She staked out her territory and hovered over that bear, ready to outbid anyone who even looked like they MIGHT want to get it.
Only later did we learn that not only was it VERY cute (hat, necklace, ribbon) -- which is why Precious Princess wanted it -- but it ALSO sings, when you squeeze its paw.
In two-part harmony.
Try topping THAT!
It also dances, nodding its head and bobbing its shoulders, and opening its wee little mouth in time to its song.
And what it sings is a sickeningly saccharine short version of the above song, "It's Written in the Wind."
(Not short enough!)
Shall I type out a transcript of the words? They're written on my skull, by now!
Actually, I don't mind.
I truly don't. By now it's background noise. When I do notice it, I tend to sing along, belting out the lyrics with a soulful vibrato, which charms Precious Princess and Littlest Brother. As I mentioned, I know all the words by now.
The reason I don't mind, is how unbelievably, utterly adorable Precious Princess is, loving this bear.
She LOVES it.
She hugs it, she holds it by the paws and dances along with it, she made a puppet show of it last night by turning the coffee-table over on its side and holding the bear up from behind it, so only its little singing face showed. She wanted to sleep with it, but I wouldn't let her, so she propped it up on her bedside table, and gave it a pillow for its back, so it would be comfortable. She's spent the day making food for it, and talking to it.
She is SO CUTE, that, well, I have to love it too. I just have to. Anything that makes her that happy, makes me happy too.
(Eldest Son wanted the Foosball table, so much that he was willing to bid his OWN MONEY for it, but Grandma kindly put up the purchase price for it too, once he won it.)
(He was pretty cute too!)
Cheers!
:-)
Today we had the ribbon-cutting and dedication of the COMPLETED Play Structure!
Ya-a-a-ay!!
Here, some pics of the event.
In short, a good time was had by all!
It rained during the night, and was still overcast during this event. However, we were fortunate enough that it did not rain during the event, and some of the P.S.T.F. (Andrea and Eric - thank you!) went out before the ceremony and dried off all the slides. So not even the first sliders got a wet bottom.
Yippee!!
Okay, today after services I snapped a couple. Two different views.
Sorry about the yellow caution tape; I mentioned how the poor little kiddoes can't play on it yet.
I didn't take my camera yesterday b/c I knew all sorts of other people were taking "official" pictures of the build, and we'd probably get a copy somehow. One of my friends actually did a time-lapse thing with her video camera, and condensed it down to a four-minute snippet that was shown in the service today. That was nifty. About 2 minutes out of the 4 minutes were spent digging holes, standing around staring at holes, and jumping in and out of them. After that the structure went up pretty fast. Then the last minute or so was spent in a cloud of concrete dust -- filling in those same holes, dadgumit.
I don't think any of us had any clue how much time we would be spending on the HOLES.
There's a metaphor in there somewhere...
Oh yeah! That we spent so much time getting THE FOUNDATION just right! Yeah, that's it!
;-)
Heard today at our church's play structure "community build."
Sort of like an Amish barn-raising, but more suburban.
No pictures, sorry, forgot my camera. D'oh! (In honor of "The Simpsons" Movie opening this weeekend.)
Yes, at last, at last we really did it!
I was on the Play Structure Task Force at our church, or the "P.S.T.F." as we came to be lovingly known. (Is that a Presbyterian thing, the acronyms?) We started meeting in February. Frankly, I am amazed we actually have a play structure built on our church property, as of today. I was, quite frankly, prepared for it to be NEXT summer before we actually had a play structure built. I thought we'd be lucky to have one selected, and starting up the approval chain, by now. I thought we'd have barely half our fund-raising done by now.
No way Jose! It's BUILT. It's THERE. It's standing on our church property, right now!!!
Woo-hoo!
It's just that the kids can't play on it yet. Kind of a bummer, but the concrete has to harden. And then we have to backfill the tops of the holes, and then we have to lay weedmat, and finally spread an unbelievable amount of impact-absorbing ground cover, in case the kiddos fall off it. THEN, they can play on it. (That was supposed to happen NEXT Saturday, but the delivery of the ground cover has been delayed, but don't get me started on that. Maybe some miracle will happen between now and then...)
The two-year-old didn't understand. He cried and cried when he wasn't allowed to play on it today. I'm sort of afraid to take him to services tomorrow morning, b/c he's likely to do the same thing when he sees it then.
Want to know what took the most amount of time and the hardest work? Digging the foundation holes. And they were even drilled out by power auger! But they were still full of the loose dirt, had to be shovelled out. Probably the one tool that we didn't quite have enough of, was shovels.
Twenty-eight holes, between eighteen inches and two-and-a-half feet deep, depending on the slope of the land. Fourteen of them fourteen inches in diameter, fourteen of them eighteen inches in diameter.
In case you were wondering, that's a lot of dirt. We had to buy about 3 cubic yards of concrete to put in the holes once the structure was built.
And actually, even though the digging itself was fairly strenuous, for a congregation whose members do primarily office work, the HARDEST part was getting them to be EXACTLY the right depth.
For this, the site supervisor brought a surveyor's tool which was totally fabulous. It was this little laser on a tripod. Then this other thing, I don't know what you call it, a laser-detecter? Whatever. It was attached to this like metal yard-stick thingy, and it was set to the right height, and what you did was, you stuck it into the hole and aimed it toward the laser over on its tripod, and if the little detecter was at precisely the right height, it would give a nice long tone to reward your achievement. If it was NOT at the right height, it would give a series of piercing beeps to chastise you for your failure.
We will all be hearing those beeps in our nightmares.
See, if it wasn't at the right height, then you had to take out the little board (we had these little plywood squares to put in the bottom of the hole, to prevent the play structure poles from settling funny before the concrete hardened), and you had to either take out a little more dirt, or put back in a little more dirt, and put your little plywood square back in, and wait for the laser-leveller lady to come back and try you again. She was very popular.
Twenty-eight holes, mind you.
Finally, we got the idea to jump in the hole and stomp down the board, if it was just a LEETLE bit too high when she checked it.
"Stomp it! Stomp it!" was heard all over the work site. "Stomp your board!"
Then we refined the stomping technique. Did it require a light touch, as might be performed by our slender assistant pastor, Cathi? Or did it require a two-footed stomp by a beefy six-foot-three guy? 'Cause if you stomped it down too much, it would be, pick out the board and put a little MORE dirt in. Ad infinitum.
Hence the instruction to "Stomp it!" was soon followed by a clarifying question, "Was that a Doug stomp or a Cathi stomp?"
We paid extra to hire the site supervisor for half a day, and extra beyond that to have him bring the bobcat with the auger and dig out the holes. I think he brought the surveying stuff for free. Tellya, it was some of the wisest money we spent on this project. Even if it did mean we ran out of money for a fence. Well worth every cent. Well, we'll sell a few more chocolate bars, and get a fence in a few months.
Turns out he's put in about 400 play structures. Make that 400-and-one, now.
He really knew what he was doing. Knew how to mark off where the holes should be, based on our site plan. Knew how to run the bobcat to drill them out. Brought the surveying tools and knew how and why to use them. Knew what had to be done in what order, what could be done in parallel, what couldn't. Knew what kind of bolts and washers went where.
We, the P.S.T.F., didn't really believe him earlier this week, when he told us we'd be done building the structure, and be pouring concrete by noon. But it was so. In fact, the concrete was delivered about 11:00, just when the finishing touches were being put on the structure, and we all broke for lunch then. About noon we started in on the concrete, and we were done by 1:00. Absolutely done, cleaning up and putting things away. Even though Dear Husband and I were among those who stayed to the bitter end (b/c I was on the P.S.T.F.), we were able to leave about 1:15.
Absolutely amazing.
We'd probably still be out there, wrassling with a rented bobcat, putting the wrong bolts in the wrong places, backwards, and redoing half of it now, in the dark, if we hadn't hired the site supervisor. Well worth every cent.
Now if we can just get that ground cover delivered this week...
PS - Anybody want some chocolate bars? ;-)
The Scene:
Christmas Eve morning at a mid-sized Presbyterian Church in a mid-sized Midwestern city.
The children will be ringing bells, and later participating in a silent reenactment of the Nativity... all the little sheep and angels and so on... They've all been scrubbed and tidied and put into their Christmas best.
Service is about to begin, and the place is packed. Only one service this morning, because of the 3 planned for later this evening; plus, there're all the people who only come on Christmas and Easter, and all the children and grandchildren of regular members who are "home for the holidays."
The service kicks off with the lighting of the Advent Candles. Today, the last Sunday of Advent, all 4 Advent candles will be lit by a nice little family, long-time members, cute kids, and all that. The parents will read the little presentation prepared by the Worship Committee as they light each candle, to help everyone prepare their hearts and minds with sufficient holiness to welcome Lord Jesus into our midst.
The Associate Pastor approaches the lectern, issues the Call to Worship. The family who will light the Advent Candles arises from their pew near the front of the church: Mom and Dad, mid- to- late-thirties, heavyset, too busy with the kids to get enough exercise; the kids, Eldest Son, age almost-6; Precious Princess, age 3-1/2; and The Baby, age 20 months; all dressed in adorable coordinating dress-up clothes, all recently bathed, shiny hair and no smudges on the face.
Mom holds The Baby in her left arm, along with the printed reading from the Worship Committee. In her right hand, Mom holds the microphone. Dad holds the candle-lighter, a long, elegant brass tool which brings a bit more gravitas to the occasion than an old plastic Bic lighter would. They arrange themselves on the altar steps, Dad nearest the candles, Mom next holding the Baby, the Eldest Son and Precious Princess standing beside her. Glancing at Dad out of the corner of her eye, Mom sees that Dad is lighting the first candle. She takes a deep breath, raises the mike, and begins reading:
"Jesus said, “I am the light of the world: He who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." The first candle is a reminder of the light of hope of the prophets."
Dad lights the second candle. Mom continues,
"The second candle is a symbol of the light that took Joseph and Mary into the stable."
The Baby takes a swipe at the mike.
Mom pulls it away from him. Remember, he's in her left arm, along with the reading print-out; the mike is in her right. She can hold it such that he can't reach it, far to the right; but she realizes, belatedly, that when she does so, she can no longer read what's written on the paper.
Dad begins to light the third candle. Mom reads on,
"The third candle reminds us of the great light and joy that surrounded the shepherds at the announcement of Jesus’ birth."
The Baby swipes at the mike again.
Mom has to choose: Be able to read what you're supposed to be reading, or hold the mike so that everyone can hear what you're supposed to be reading? You can't have both, Mom.
This time, Mom can't keep a smile off her face. The whole congregation is watching The Baby play hide-'n'-go-seek with the microphone, it's not like they can't see her dilemma. Mom bites her lips, but can't stop smiling at this thought. And when she smiles, she can't keep the chuckle out of her voice.
" Why do we light the fourth candle?"
"- Chuckle - Here --" she says, turning to Dad, who has by now finished lighting the candles, "You'd better finish." Indulgent chuckles follow her around the sanctuary; yes, everyone can see it's a losing battle she's fighting with The Baby and the mike. Better that Dad take the mike and finish the reading; yes; far better.
Dad reads on:
"The fourth candle reminds us of the light of the stars in the sky which guided the wise men to Jesus and which keeps watch over us by night."
While Dad is in the middle of this sentence, Mom sees out of the corner of her eye that foxy little mischief grin stealing across the face of Precious Princess. Clearly all that chuckling was giving her ideas... Making a hasty snatch, Mom manages to grap Precious Princess and capture her hand, RIGHT before she would have bolted. Thwarted, Precious Princess gives in without a fuss and stands demurely by Mom's side as if she had never planned anything untoward.
Now, here's how things stood with the little family up on the altar steps:
Dad holds the brass candle-lighter in one hand, the mike and the reading in the other. Mom holds The Baby in her right arm, having shifted her grip during the successful put-down of the Precious Princess rebellion, and the hand of Precious Princess herself is held in Mom's left hand.
Eldest Son, seeing an unparallelled opportunity open up before him, seizes it with both hands.
Mom, unfortunately being unable to extrude a third hand, is unable to seize HIM.
Eldest Son bolts away from Mom, hops up the last 2 steps to the altar, and starts skipping around the altar. Giggling all the while.
Dad, for his part, keeps reading:
"Listen to what Matthew wrote about the wise men: In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to , asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising and have come to pay him homage." Matthew 2:1
"We each in our own way come before Jesus. For some of us it is a long journey through life to come before the Lord. For others the presence of Christ is always near.
"No matter how long it takes us though, when we come before Christ, we come bearing gifts of thanks and joy."
(I see nothing, I hear nothing, my task is to finish this reading, and finish it I SHALL!)
Mom, dragging Precious Princess up the steps to attempt a better position to intercept Eldest Son as he goes his merry rounds (Skipping. And giggling), trips over her little foot. Finally attaining the top of the stairs, she shifts Precious Princess's hand to her right hand, already burdened with The Baby. In the present emergency, that'll do. And now her left hand is free to attempt a capture of Eldest Son.
He, however, wise to Mom's ways, dances just out of her reach, nimbly avoiding her snatch.
Mom, aware earlier of how silly she looked in her attempt to keep the mike from The Baby's grab, is doubly aware now of how even-sillier she looks in her attempts to grab Eldest Son. She bites her lips again, but again to no avail; the smile leaks out onto her face, irrepressibly. Another renegade chuckle bubbles up from the depths as Eldest Son continues skipping. And giggling.
Dad's voice, droning on, finally completes the reading:
"O God, when we think of Christmas we think of love and lights and gifts and happy times. We know the cause of this celebration is the birth of your Son, Jesus. The wise men traveled far to bow down before you and offer gifts. We bow down before you praising you with joy for the enormous blessings you have given us. We bring to you our gifts of praise and thanksgiving to honor and glorify you forever and ever. Amen."
Dad shifts the mike, the reading, and candle-lighter all into his right hand; and as Eldest Son dances away from Mom yet again, he comes into Dad's range. Lightning-fast, Dad's left hand shoots out and grasps Eldest Son by the shoulder.
"You're done!" says Dad, and removing Eldest Son from the altar and down the steps, sends him back up the aisle, where his Sunday School teacher is waiting to give him his handbells.
-- Remember, the little kids' bell-ringing is next, later to be followed by the (oh God, please let it be) SILENT Nativity re-enactment.
Yes: Eldest Son, along with other kids, is scheduled to be up in front of the congregation TWO MORE TIMES before this service is over. Um. Yikes. -- (By the way, just to cut the tension, both of these appearances will go without a hitch. Thank God -- literally.)
Mom, Dad, Precious Princess, and The Baby slink back down the altar steps to their pew, Mom still unable to keep the grin off her face or the occasional semi-hysterical renegade chuckle from escaping.
As their part in this morning's service, mercifully, comes to an end, the congregation bursts into spontaneous applause.
The Senior Pastor, coming to the lectern, says with a smile, "I want you all to know that everything that happens here today was planned. -- Just not by us. Grace abounds."
Now the whole congregation bursts into laughter, and Mom's chuckles are drowned out, for which she is thankful.
The Senior Pastor takes this opportunity to mention, "We are still looking for childcare for this evening's services. If you feel you would be able to give a small amount of your time to serve in this way tonight, please see E. H., Director of Children's Ministries, after the service."
Well, it seemed an opportune moment to make that announcement, to be sure.
Mom can't believe she has to sit through the entire rest of the service, after that. But, running up the aisle in tears didn't seem the thing to do, either.
How many people are thinking that this has ruined their Christmas Eve, this complete deconstruction of dignity right at the start of the service? How many people are thinking, "That kid is totally out of control, and all the mother can do is laugh about it!" The "spare the rod" constituency, as it were.
Thank goodness for the Senior Pastor and his sense of humor!
After thinking about this all day, Mom decides to heck with the "spare the rod" constituency, whoever they might be. That's not what Christmas is about.
*****
When the disciples wanted to keep the little children from bothering their busy leader, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, don't stop them. I'm telling you, unless you become like them, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven."
I don't think he meant, "Only the children who can behave like little adults."
I think, God has a sense of humor.
God knows, there's nothing decorous or dignified about the process of childbirth... which is, when you get right down to it, what we're really celebrating on Christmas Eve.
God, in fact, knows what it's like to be a boy. No doubt, as Jesus was fully human for all he was also fully divine, God knows what it's like to be a boy full of energy and joy, and yes, even mischief, on the eve of a much-longed-for event.
I decided to believe that Eldest Son skipping gleefully around the altar was a perfectly acceptable representation of the joy with which we should greet the coming of Our Lord.
And that, had I swooped down on him angrily and marched him off down the aisle with some conveniently-reachable part of his anatomy held painfully in my vise-like grip, to be soundly spanked in a bathroom, that this would have been what REALLY ruined Christmas for all who witnessed it.
Jesus is about love. And grace. And forgiveness. That's what he wants us to give one another.
That's what he came here to give us.
Jesus was not one to stand on ceremony; certainly not to the point where maintaining said ceremony would be worth humiliating a child. Jesus, in fact, tells us that those who maintain an outward show of ceremony while inwardly failing to love, are completely missing the point.
Okay, granted: In a perfect world, Eldest Son would have shown love for the rest of the congregation by showing respect for the ceremonies as planned.
Granted: The church is unlikely to ask us to light the Advent Candles again anytime soon.
Granted: Clearly, Dad and I should have done a LOT more rehearsing, not only of the ceremony itself, but of any consequences for failure to perform up to standard...
But, having failed to do that, in the heat of the moment, what should we have done differently? What would a punitive, spare-the-rod approach have accomplished, except to assuage our own feelings of embarassment? It was ultimately OUR failure to prepare him that led to that scene; should we have punished him for OUR failure?
No.
(And were WE punished sufficiently for that failure? -- Um... YES!!!)
The good-natured laughter that we joined in did more to defuse the situation than the spare-the-rod approach could ever have achieved.
I am quite grateful that our church, at least, is one in which grace does, indeed, abound.
