big as the sky: Church and Such

Believe in me,
'Cause I don't believe in anything,
And I want to be someone who believes.
Who believes.
~Counting Crows

Children. Everywhere.

I volunteered again this year to help out at my church's week-long summer camp. It's one of those experiences that when you are in the middle of it, holding one kid and wiping the nose of another, you make a breathy, quiet pact with yourself that goes something like this. "Self, don't ever do this again. OK?? I know you mean well, but remember this moment of complete bedlam, and when she asks you to help again next year. BE STRONG. OK? Are we good? OK."

Then something happens. By Friday, everybody finds a groove, a routine emerges. You look back on the week and remember their little faces during snack time peeking over the table and licking the icing off their cookie. Their gleeful smiles as you gave them wagon rides on a beach towel down the hallway. The adorable little things they say and do. Their little shy smiles when they see you, open up to the experience, or sing that song. The loud, abrasive exuberance reverberating through the room. Oh wait, that was Bee. The decibel level she reached even made the teenagers wince. Anyway, like most things in life, the kinks get worked out, everybody relaxes a bit, and I am weepy with sentiment on the last day.

The highlight of each day for me was when the whole camp would meet in the room with all the pews and sing songs with hand motions. Toddler Law states that they must love songs with hand motions, and no one loves them more than Bee. One morning early in the week, voices rising through the air, "Our Goooooood is an awesome Goooooood. He reeeeeeeigns from heaven aboooooooove!" Then, out of nowhere and into my visual frame comes Bee. She spaz dances across the front row, arms flaying, toddler sing/screeching, and rips one of the display posters off the music stand with triumphant joy. In front of everyone. Apparently she wanted to add a little punk rock to the revival. I think I heard her say, "Hello Cleveland!!!! Do you want to rock!!!"

Everybody stared at me, but it didn't make me feel any more squeamish than I already feel at church. The whole church thing is new to me. Well, kind of new. I have been attending an earthy little Lutheran church for three years, but given I spent the first thirty four years sleeping in on Sundays, it all still feels strange. And I mean a strange most people don't comprehend. My family didn't go to church (heathens!!) and honestly, I never really noticed. Consequently, I am blissfully free of Catholic guilt, Christian paranoia, or religious judgment. As Forest Gump said, "One less thing."

But, being raised heathen, I also had no spiritual guidance to take me through the tricky parts of life. Things like forgiveness, hope, peace, love, and I mean when all these things are difficult. My parents did their best, and they did an awesome job, but let's face it, we can't expect to get everything from our parents. Most people learn these things in some spiritual community. In America, that means Christianity.

Now, being raised heathen, those church people can definitely talk them some crazy sometimes. Resurrections, miracles, burning bushes. It all seems a tad over the top for someone who doesn't know their Judas from their priest. BUT, I like the parts about forgiveness, peace, hope, love, compassion, service, helping the weak, serving the poor, not being materialistic, accepting the seasons of life, etc, etc. It's 'big as the sky' humbling to delve into these things.

So, I walk the church tightrope, being hypervigilant against the whole 'judging others' thing. But honestly, there isn't much, if any, of that at my church. And I hope my kids get something that, frankly, is not my strong point -- how to be balanced, forgiving, peaceful, hopeful. If they want to continue when they are older, fine. If not, fine. That's not my motive here, and I love 'em no matter what they do. I just want to do my best with them, and get some guidance for myself along the way.

My secret hope is that they can explain it all to me some day. Hmm, faith and hope? Maybe I'm starting to get it.

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Some fun pics from this week:)

Road trip!