The Shepherd

I mention Awana often.  And how we help in Cubbies.  It all probably sounds kind of. . .cute.  Like it's some kind of program we are kind-hearted enough to serve in to keep the kids entertained with something wholesome. 

But it's not "cute."  It is a really, really big deal for our kids and for us as parents and, increasingly, for us as a married couple.

We take it seriously.  We really believe we are entrusted with these pre-schoolers and we really believe that what we teach them on Sunday afternoon has the potential to grow into something big and important in their lives. 


So.

This past Sunday, the story-time was about the verse, 'The Lord is my shepherd. . ."  Possibly one of the most famous verses ever.  Top 10, at least. 

I wanted to teach the kids a little bit about what a shepherd does for his sheep.  This is something people of Bible times knew very well.  But nowadays. . .

A book was written years ago titled something like A Shepherd's Reading of Psalm 23 in which the shepherd-author described his relationship to his flock.

I boiled this down for the kids.

I took one volunteer at a time to come to the middle of the circle and pretend to be my sheep as I stood with a scarf banded on my head and a tall bamboo pole as my crook.

A shepherd leads a sheep to green pasture.  (The first girl crawled to an area and pretended to eat.)

A shepherd protects a sheep from raging water and leads him to quiet waters where he can drink.  (The second kid--well, you get the point.)

A shepherd uses his staff to lead the sheep gently.  (Third kid. . .)

Here's where I decided to get clever:

A shepherd also uses his staff as a rod, because sometimes the sheep need to be whacked to be sufficiently deterred from danger.  The Lord disciplines.  We don't like to think about it.  We don't like to say that out loud.  But it's true.  The Lord uses a rod, sometimes.  As when we don't respond to the gentle leading.

The fourth kid --  No, not really.  I didn't strike any children with my rod.  I told them about it, though. 

Finally, the shepherd restores a sheep when, because of its massive wool, it falls over.  The sheep cannot right itself back to hooves.  The shepherd must pick it up and make it to stand again.  e.g. The Lord restores my soul.

It was fun acting that one out with little Roman who lay on his back with arms and legs in the air, wondering where this was going.

And then review.  We're all sheep.  What does the Good Shepherd do for us?  They all seemed to know the answers.  This was satisfying. 

One day, when they are older than 3 or 4 or 5 and know a little something about what it means to fall and be helpless to help themselves, maybe they will remember that the Shepherd wants to and has the powers to restore them to their feet.

See?  I take this story-time seriously.  I really want it to count for eternity.

***

Much later:


Over dinner, I asked Josh, "What's one thing a shepherd does?"

Joshua answered, "He uses his staff to beat the sheep."

Joshua's Song

He first sang it at the dinner table a few weeks ago.  Something like:


Da circle (click click)

Decision (click click)

He rocked his shoulders, repeated the couplet a few times, clicked his tongue rhythmically.


"Josh, what song is that?"

"My own song."


"Where it did it come from?"

"I made it up!"


The circle?  Decision?   It seemed. . .ominous, but the rhythm of it, his confidence in chanting it. . .it seemed somehow professional.


"Wait, sing it again?  What is it?"

Da circle (click click)

Decision (click click)


I cycled through recent memory.  In data collection of material related to what is on your 5-year-old's radar, it is best to set the search parameters for about 2 weeks.

What has been going on in the last two weeks?
Oh.

Uh. . .yeah. . .Gemma has been working hard to memorize a passage out of Ephesians.  It's not one that I'd have chosen for an 8-year-old.  Though it does have that key verse about being saved through faith and not through good works. . .  it also features some fairly. . .adult content.


"Hey, Josh, sing it one more time."

Da circle (click click)

Decision (click click)


Laughter.  The kind I should have stifled.  The kind that felt victorious, because I had figured out the puzzle. 

Bryan hadn't yet.  "What?  What is it?"  He was laughing a little already in anticipation.


And it's not that I want to build it up.  Maybe I've already ruined it for you. . .  

He was singing:
The circum (click click)
The cision (click click)

The circum (click click)
The cision (click click)

J Day

[Quick update before today's post:  Roberts The Boxer--see earlier posts--won his first round by knockout.  His next bout is tonight.]


Joshua is 5 1/2 now. 

(At which age did we stop counting the fractional parts?  The same age we decided that a nap in the middle of the day was a good idea?) 

A few weeks ago, we had our dog neutered.  This required Benziger to wear an E-Collar, as described on our vet receipt.  The "E"--improbably--stands for "Elizabethan." 

But our dog didn't look Shakespearean, or otherwise noble.  He looked. . .uncomfortable.  And decidedly helpless, which is the point of the collar. 

One evening, Bryan and I were in our family room when we heard a wretched, piercing yelp from the dog, followed by Joshua crying in a sudden burst, then running towards us.

He was hysterical.  Not funny hysterical.  Histrionics-hysterical.  What on earth?. . .

He couldn't tell us, such was his crying. 

"Are you hurt?"  He shook his head.

"Why are you crying?" Couldn't answer.

I thought of the dog yelp.  "Is Benziger hurt?"  He nodded.  Woefully.

"Did you hurt him?" He nodded again, he cried even harder.

"Well, what did you do to him?"  Josh resorted to mime.  He grabbed two ends of something, as though holding a pole, and then he bit down on whatever was in his hands as though--

No.  It couldn't be.  There's no way this means what it looks like it means.  But. . .what else could it mean?

"Josh!  Did you bite his tail?"

Even greater wailing ensued.



How long had Josh wondered what it would be like to bite the dog's tail?  Each time, did he think, "No, because then the dog will bite me"?  But now--with that collar on--the dog was defenseless.

Or was this the first time he's ever considered it? 
Was this something he really wanted to do, or did he figure, "Eh, why not?" 

I know I'll think this again, but right then was the moment I thought it for the first:  What goes on in that boy's head? 


Gemma was not around for this incident.  When we told her--girl-child that she is, wiser at age 8, as she figures it--she said, "Ew, Josh, you put his tail in your bare mouth?"