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Five Photos from our Work – December 14, 2015

Here are five of our Grace and Main’s favorite photos from the past month for folks who might be interested in getting a glimpse of community life and our shared life and work.

Also, you can buy a copy of our Grace and Main’s Prayerbook now at Amazon by clicking here. A portion of any purchases helps to support our work.

First place in the "best looking plate" contest at Thanksgiving

First place in the “best looking plate” contest at Thanksgiving

Enjoying the party and the couch at the new community house (donated by Ascension Lutheran Church)

Enjoying the party and the couch at the new community house (donated by Ascension Lutheran Church)

Our fourth year joining St Francis Springs Prayer Center for their Taize service

Our fourth year joining St Francis Springs Prayer Center for their Taize service

A leader and developing leader sorting through donated scarves, hats, and gloves

A leader and developing leader sorting through donated scarves, hats, and gloves

Our Thanksgiving Feast gets started

Our Thanksgiving Feast gets started

The Gospel according to a Pillow Fight

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This month’s story was written by Rev. Meredith Williams, the pastor of one of our partner congregations (Ascension Lutheran Church). 

***
There was a war going on. The sounds of battle intruded over the usual soundtrack of our monthly meal. We had gathered on the fourth Thursday of the month to have dinner together and celebrate one more month together. The usual soundtrack of the meal begins with anxious quiet conversation that fades to the sound of eating, before building to a crescendo of louder conversation over seconds and coffee. Each month, we’re treated to the beautiful sound of laughter and chit-chat rising and falling like music.

But this month, there were more people than usual, and that time after dinner where we savor conversation and sweets was interrupted by the sound of conflict. You see, the dozen or more children that ate with us that night were getting bored and wiggly. They couldn’t take anymore sitting quietly while adults talked, and they were doing nearly anything to encourage their parents either to go home or to let them loose to play. Finally, the parents gave in and the kids were sent upstairs to play in the “Youth Loft”. Now the music of our night changed again with the addition of the percussion of muffled footsteps above our heads. Though, frankly, it sounded like a heard of elephants.

So, as the pastor, I was asked to go upstairs to “deal with the children,” in the appropriate manner. I found the children running around and throwing things at one another. I put my hands on my hips and in my best authoritative Mom/Pastor voice yelled, “Hey, no throwing!” They stopped, turning to me as their faces fell. These kids who get told “no” so often gave each other that look that says, “another adult here to ruin the fun.” I raised one eyebrow authoritatively, pulled a cushion off of the nearest couch, and gently thumped the nearest 11year old. “We’ll have a pillow fight instead,” I intoned seriously. In the blink of an eye, the children caught on and all the pillows and couch cushions were used as soft armor, thumping and swatting, blocking and bracing. A dozen or so children and one adult were squealing and giggling, rolling on the floor and shrieking with laughter. Our play turned to a sweet kind of music to add to the ongoing concert of our meal—the beautiful and graceful sound of unfettered fun for the sake of fun.

Sometimes love means creating a little chaos and mischief, so grace can sneak in the back door while nobody is looking. Sometimes love means saying “yes” to the wild exuberance of children for no reason other than the chance to say “yes.” Sometimes, love means getting whomped by a nine-year-old with a decorative throw pillow, because you’re too busy trying to figure out how to use your own couch cushion to swat a twelve-year-old. Love is complicated, sometimes.

It was beautiful music, but apparently it was loud, too. Another adult was sent to investigate, “deal with the children,” and presumably to locate the missing pastor. He came around the corner to see our fantastic fracas and stopped in his tracks. We all stopped, innately knowing our space had been invaded. He slowly turned on his heel and walked away. The kids and I looked back at one another, the distinctive music of love and play resuming from its momentary rest with a perfectly aimed couch cushion to my back. The soft thump of cushion sounded very much like, “The Lord be with you.” I grinned and swung my pillow at her retreating back. “And also with you,” the sound of giggles and pillow replied.

***
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