Blessed Easter

photo credit Pamela Smith

Sometimes it is the smallest gesture that makes the biggest impression, especially from a child.  As I was leaving Sunday school on Palm Sunday, an 11-year-old boy ran up to me out of breath with a handful of flower buds.  I recognized him as one of the children who had joined our class that day because his teacher was not there.  He said, "These were for my regular teacher, but you can have them." Amused by his little-boy tact, I thanked him, taking them gladly.  He still had the tissue paper egg in his hand that he had made in my class.

I was a little concerned when the six extra students joined us last minute, hoping I had enough paper mache eggs for everyone.  I share art with my Sunday school students almost every week. One reason is that creativity and spirituality are inseparable. I sometimes offer up an example piece for the children to emulate, but more often I just offer thematic supplies and maybe a few suggestions.  I am always impressed and awed by what they create.  Another reason I bring them art is because there is not too much in the way of art class offered in public schools these days, particularly not in junior high. I think they really appreciate being able to play in a way that they haven't been able to since they were little.  I mean, what junior high curriculum plays with tissue and white glue? Or, maybe one week I might show them a new tool they have never seen before, like a crimper or an eyelet punch. Mainly, I love to provide something to keep their secondary attention occupied while I talk to them about their faith.  It seems a win-win.

Speaking of small gestures that mean a lot, there is this one little girl in fifth grade whom I see now and again on Sunday. I don't even remember how we met, but we get along famously and I can't wait until she is in my class.  I went by myself to the Easter Vigil to volunteer at the reception, and she was there with her family.  She saw me sitting alone at the end of her pew, and she had the two women between us get my attention.  She waved and patted the pew next to her.  My heart melted as I moved to sit with her and her mother and little brother.  She's so small that she couldn't see the baptism while everyone was standing, so I had her stand on the pew next to me.  And she told me I sing pretty.  What a sweet soul.

Those flower buds turned out to be yellow daffodils.  They bloomed that day, and stayed strong until Easter.  They have given me such joy all week on this holiest of weeks, that I think I'll write a thank you note to that little boy for his inadvertent gift.

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