Janice Robbins welcomes all to the table, including the little children
My granddaughter Mary Jane loves Sunday School at Church of the Good Shepherd.
Actually it’s called Godly Play, which is something she corrects me on when I take her.
In my day we called it Sunday School, and it was terrifying. Granted I was a terribly shy, scaredy cat and was afraid of everyone and everything in the world.
When I was a newborn and staying with my grandparents in Athens, Tn., my grandmother told my grandfather to take me to Sunday School. Technically I know I wasn’t a newborn, but I felt as helpless and clingy as one. I bet I was about 7 or 8, old enough to have all manner of friends and certainly be able to walk into a Sunday school class.
I don’t remember the details because I blocked them out, but I remember being put out in the hallway as punishment so I’m guessing I acted out. Big time.
As a hard rule, I tried to distract my parents on Sunday mornings by being extra pious or studious so one of them might say, “Honey, Ferris is reading the encyclopedia so let’s not interrupt her with Sunday school.”
But they made me go. I’m sure it was important and loving, but Sunday school was something I dreaded.
Not so with Mary Jane. The very first time she went, there were several children lined outside the hall of the classroom while they readied themselves for Godly Play. My granddaughter didn’t know them, but she bounded right up and stood with the row of children, all older than her. Her hands clasped behind her back like, she waited expectantly as Kathleen Crevasse spoke gently to everyone in her calming, grounding way, explaining how to ready themselves to hear God’s word.
Later, the children joined the parents for communion, and Mary Jane slipped into my pew, delicately eating Cheez-Its. I was nervous about letting her walk up to take communion with me, even though we’d practiced what she should do. I was taught there was no communion until confirmation, so I taught my granddaughter how to cross her arms over her chest for a blessing. Mary Jane and I went over and over this posture and her little fists were clenched tight as she bowed her head, ready to receive her blessing.
But at the communion rail at the front of the whole church, she stretched her arms out long, cupping her hands to receive as much as she could. Mary Jane immediately dipped the holy wafer in the cup like she’d been taking communion for 40 years.
I broke out in a cold sweat, looking up at The Rev. Robert Childers and The Rev. Janice Robbins to see how much trouble I was in for my irreverent grandparenting.
There were zero reproving looks. Instead, Janice beamed at Mary Jane, who was standing at the rail on her tiptoes. In addition to sharing the spiritual body and blood of Jesus, Janice put her hand on my granddaughter’s head and gave the most important, heartfelt, holy blessing I have ever heard. It brought tears to my eyes and to the woman’s eyes on the other side of Mary Jane. I wish I could recite it word for word, but the gist of it was that Mary Jane is welcome at God’s table, and that every hair on her head and every cell in her being is from God, and she is His and He will watch over her every day of her life for all her days.
And whether or not she totally understands Holy Communion, she knows she is welcome at God’s Table. And isn’t that the point?
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Ferris Robinson is the author of three children’s books, “The Queen Who Banished Bugs,” “The Queen Who Accidentally Banished Birds,” and “Call Me Arthropod” in her pollinator series “If Bugs Are Banished.” “Making Arrangements” is her first novel. “Dogs and Love - Stories of Fidelity” is a collection of true tales about man’s best friend. Her website is ferrisrobinson.com and you can download a free pollinator poster there. She is the editor of The Lookout Mountain Mirror and The Signal Mountain Mirror.
Ferris Robinson