Aj Schwanz

Lately at church folks have often proclaimed, “Amazing gathering!¬† I felt the Spirit so powerfully!”¬† People share freely and frequently in open worship, and the messages have been very similar – that of Christ’s love for individuals and communities and beyond.¬† But I haven’t been able to participate fully:¬† something’s been off-kilter, a very uncomfortable sense of unrest and a call to something more.¬† But not having found a way to express it constructively (i.e. not throwing a tantrum), I’ve chosen to remain quiet in service and process with close ones.

But this Sunday — this Sunday was *good*.¬† Playing in the worship ensemble, Jason told me that the focus of the gathering was Faith Promise (equipping missionaries tied to NFC with monetary and prayer support).¬† But this time the sharing was different:¬† it was tied around a common element – all of these missionaries work with kids.¬† So we sang “kid” songs (man, if you want to work out your glutes, sing a couple rounds of “Allelu, allelu, allelu, alleluia, praise ye the Lord!” with the standing and the sitting and the standing and the sitting . . . though I did notice that the university president and his wife sitting in front of me abstained from the aerobic workout), young folks read the Call to Worship, folks shared about camping programs and mission trips to Thailand to help young people stay out of the sex trade, and then we closed with a corporate prayer.¬† No specific “sermon” was given, but through our participation, the message was received and experienced very clearly.

Being at this particular stage in life/motherhood, it was hard to pray the corporate prayer – not because I don’t agree, but because it’s so starkly real.¬† Particularly as Mother’s Day is approaching, I’ve been talking with God about how who the “parents” in my life have been and how God calls me to be a parent to the Little Ones that I come into contact with on a regular basis “for these children and all those in between.”¬† What does God say to you?

A PRAYER FOR THE CHILDREN (best when spoken aloud)

We pray for the  children
who put chocolate fingers everywhere,
who like to be tickled,
who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants,
who sneak Popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who’ve never squeaked across the floor in new sneakers,
who never had crayons to count,
who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,
who give hugs in a hurry and forget their lunch money,
who cover themselves with Band-Aids and sing off-key,
who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
who slurp their soup.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed,
who never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the school,
who squirm in church and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried,
and for those who must.
For those we never give up on,
and for those who never get a chance.
For those we smother with our love,
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to
offer.

~Ina J. Hughes, Mission Newsletter of Foundation for His Ministry, August, 2002