Like many other things in life, the number of young ‘uns we have for Children’s Time at church varies quite a bit from Sunday to Sunday. This last Lord’s Day, at least a dozen came up front for Dianna’s lesson. Sometimes there are only two or three.
Dianna sat down on the floor with them. She gave each of them a tiny little battery candle and talked about how light takes away our fear in the darkness. I thought about how good it is to see so many babies and small children in a church. Especially in a time like this when rural congregations are disappearing about as fast as pecan pie at a potluck.
The cries, the babbling and even the fussing are reassurances to the older members—and their preacher. The blending of elderly, middle-aged, young marrieds, teenagers and little ones gives notion of a future, a continuation of work and faith.
While one of the toddlers who could barely toddle wobbled her way around the rest of the kids, we all sang “This Little Light of Mine.” The young ones held up their glowing candles, some cautiously and some with wild, waving abandon. After the song, they each got a sweet treats from the basket we keep up front under the pulpit. They headed back toward their seats, some thundering up the aisle and some plodding along as if they were headed to math class.
One of the babies in the back fussed a bit and another one babbled. I smiled to myself and thought, “These are good sounds; this is the noise of hope.”