Sunday Afternoon

Sometimes I feel like the world is moving too fast for me. Things like technology and fashion change faster than ever; and I ask myself how am I supposed to keep up with this?  I am a child on a moving merry go round, fighting to stay on. But today I saw something different, something that made me smile and think, not everything changes.  Today I saw something that since the dawn of time has never changed, and will never change.  Or so it seems.

After a long Sunday service of sitting still and quiet, the little children went out to play.  I was seated at a picnic table with my brothers and sisters, shaded by a huge pine tree and enjoying a familiar church meal: Sloppy Joe.  And then I saw them,  a crowd of boys and girls running across the yard chasing a frog.  I couldn't even count the number of screaming children.  Of course my little brother Isaac was among them, moving faster than ever with a styrofoam cup.

They cheered and chased: down the dry gassy hill, towards a low creek, and around a small pine tree.  Little boys had loosened their ties and rolled up their pants.  Little girls with long dresses held up their skirts and squealed with pleasure, following close behind.  The mob of children moved this way and that, with a long legged frog hopping for dear life. The whole scene was a chapter out of Tom Sawyer or To Kill A Mocking Bird.

I remember too well the long sermons that melted into long prayers.  O how I longed for the pastor to say You Are Dismissed.  Every Sunday afternoon was a new adventure of running through the woods, splashing in the creek, or climbing the huge birch tree by the south entrance.  Thankfully I find Sunday morning sermons a great blessing these days.  A sermon is often a cool drink of water, refreshing to the soul and mind.  Or like today, a reality check,  studying the wrath and anger of the Lord. Change is good when it's maturity and growing in Christ.  But some things don't change, like little kids after Sunday service. And to me that is a pleasant truth.