Preventing Grace
It’s Friday, so that’s Takes
One
It’s been a more than usually busy week. Monday I had to somehow twist the fourth child’s hair into a bun and produce her at the appointed time for the taking of pictures, in costume, with her dance class. We set off in plenty of time, hair spayed into oblivion, merrily trundling down the road. The gas gage did say there was none, but I figured we would get all the way out there, and then I’d stop.
Turns out I stopped in the middle of the highway, halfway to our intended destination, overlooking Staples and Olums for you locals, under a tree, with an angry bird screeching down at me from overhead.
The child and I gingerly crept out of the car, hoping not to be struck by oncoming traffic, and jogged down the hill to the speedway, where we came into the possession of a dumb and impractical, childproof gas can. So impractical I ended up dumping out a gallon of some other kind of automobile fluid onto the side of the road, pouring the gas into this other container, and sloshing it into the car in batches. All while cursing the darkness.
As I was doing that a lovely friend from Good Shepherd pulled up in front of me and stood shielding my sloshing efforts from the gale force wind and commiserating with me about God’s goodness and life’s terrible justices. Eventually the gas basically all made it into whatever part of the car holds it all, and we set off once more, though not merrily.
But the dance class waited and waited and Gladys, for that’s who it was, flung herself into place and got her picture with the group after all. I wasn’t going to order this picture, but I did, to remember all our fun times together.
Two
Fortunately, there is no ‘And on Tuesday I flooded the basement,’ or anything like that. Rather, it’s been a gradual narrowing down toward Synod, which is going on now. Good Shepherd is hosting, as we did last year, which means 200+ church people are milling up and down and wondering why it rains every time they come here. Our sanctuary is big, but our facilities are small, and so the men have to betake themselves to porta-loos set up in the parking lot for their, not exactly convenience, and not really comfort either, what shall we call it? Necessity? That sounds fair. Anyway, the tent to keep them dry from the rain that always comes with this ecclesiastical time, failed. Collapsed even. Great and annoying was its fall.
Three
For Synod this year I am missing the whole thing by (because literally no one else would agree to do it, even when implored with sighs and tears) occupying myself with the children, which really means that I stand around watching better and more engaging people organize games and excitement. My excuse that, “I’m not very good with children,” may seem absurd. But truly, having a lot of children in no way qualifies a person to be able to put together a game, or organize a craft to wile away the long rainy afternoon. My usual posture–go play and leave me alone–is not suited to this sort of venture. God is surely judging me for all my sins.
Four
Today I will be locked in communion with these children from about 8 in the morning, until probably around six. It’s going to be wonderful. “Let the little children come,” said Jesus, not even with clenched teeth, “and do not hinder them.” So there you are.
Five
There were a lot of things I would have liked to write about this week, things happening in the world and in the church, but there’s no way to jostle all those things around in a coherent way along with all the busyness of this time. Maybe I’ll get to them next week, or maybe they will pass me by.
Six
Meanwhile, my tree bloomed. Isn’t it glorious?
Seven
Go check out more Takes!
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In