Minutes to Memories

The picture is of Tristen, Connor, Freddy, Gavin, and Hillary this afternoon at the first Kids’ Club of the year! Kids’ Club was an idea my daughter had a couple of years ago, and they absolutely love it! It’s one afternoon a week after school for all kids from Kindergarten through 5th grade to come have a snack, do homework, have a Bible study, and then do something special and fun! It was my baby the first year, then last year’s storm put a damper on it for half the school year. Then, when we hired Trent to be our new youth minister, he took it over. It’s his baby now, and though I LOVE KIDS CLUB (!), I also love that he’s forming relationships with these kids at such an early age. They will have an AWESOME youth group when they get to be teens, and it’s approaching very soon.

Looking at the faces of these precious kids is a bit bittersweet today, though, after officiating a funeral of a stillborn child named Alex. There were four people at the funeral other than me: the parents of Alex, and a couple who are their relatives/friends. The funeral director (who after years of funerals now I know too well) stood in the back of the room while I talked for a few minutes and the young attendants cried. I keep thinking that Alex will never go to Kids’ Club.

What can you really say on occasions like this? I used my most comforting voice and said lots of very true and very wonderful things I’ve learned from Jesus, but what really helps? One thing might have helped: I told a story I’ve told a million times now that seemed to have an effect. The story goes that the jungle tribe was frightened of the river they believed to be filled with evil spirits. When the plague broke, the missionary did his best to convince them that it was safe to cross the river to find help, but to no avail. He splashed in the water, but they were not convinced. Eventually, he dove into the river, swam underwater to the other bank, emerged from the river and thrust his fist in the air. The jungle tribe cheered! Like Jesus, you see, who submerged himself in our greatest fear and emerged on the other side victorious, telling us that it’s okay.

Alex’s father smiled a faint smile at this story and looked me in the eye the whole time. It was obvious he bought the story. As do I.

I did my best to prepare two eulogies this morning: one for a baby who died after thirty minutes in this world, and the other for a sixty-two year old woman who left behind family and friends. I found it strange that the messages are so similar.

I’m blogging this afternoon because I want to get to bed tonight at a decent hour. It has been a rough week.

There’s lots of good things, too, in addition to the rough: Heath and Laura bought shrimp today and are cooking supper for us tonight. Hillary has her first “jazz” dance class of the year this evening. The NFL season kicks off tonight, and my fantasy teams have high hopes that Chris Chambers will catch a couple of touchdown passes and that Jeff Reed will kick lots of long field goals. Maybe I’ll get a chance to watch.

Another day of a full life.