Light upon little ones

I try to teach little Ben a bit of science, mainly that if he keeps drooling on my mirrors not only is that gross, but the drools hampers and distorts his reflection. This strikes a chord of sorts, because Ben tells me he wants to be a scientist/ninja when he grows up, and reflections are important in that field, he says, reflections help detect evil. Come to think of it, ninjas do tend to be astute in physics and powder-making, and regardless, I am glad that Ben, with food still crusted all around his mouth, thinks that my station is fun, experimenting with lights when he could be making party hats.

This is Messy Church, a pilot outreach program at Deepings involving young kids playing for a bit, then doing crafts revolving around a particular message, then singing and hearing this particular message, then food, then done. Ann is making party hats, Ryan lanterns, and I have a bowl of water with floating candles in it, looking at how the light from the candles bounces, how we can reflect it, see the backs of our own heads. While Ben is still there, Adam (not me) comes along--about 8-10 years old--and we bond over elementary physics, having an awesome name, and not wanting Ben to get burned by the fire.

It's a successful day, and Ryan brings it full circle with the unveiling that Jesus is the light of the world. Not that, I should clarify, when we enter a dark room we should look for a Jesus and hold it up to see where the obstructive furniture is, rather that he is the light to our life. The kids are squirmy, but appreciative, and the parents I think really liked having someone else play with their kids for a little while.


Two extra things are worth mentioning: I have trouble saying "no" to children in things that I would have done myself at that age... or still do. So when Ben is drooling on my mirrors, I take the opportunity to teach him about how, when we do something like drool on the mirror, or wipe our hands across it, we obscure ourselves, and the mirror doesn't work as well. In the same vein, when I see youth club kids running around with a ball like crazy, I rarely stop them, knowing that not only would I have one the same thing--and may have learned a lesson by running smack into a wall--but I would have felt lame not running around with the ball. Yet there's only so much drool I can take before having to say, "Hey, little haas, that's gross." Perhaps when I have my own kids I shall do this better, because while I don't mind them running into a wall (though I don't want it), I really don't want them to be über-droolers.

Second, I phone Trevor to ask for mirrors while I am collecting as many as possible. He asks me how much I wanted, to which I say "All that I can get," which is true. So he makes some funny comment about exchange rates and begins to count mostly in twenties until we get to a hundred-and-thirty-something. Through his hearing aids, he thought I said "Euros", and though England is on the pound, he incredibly gathers all of the Euros in the house so that I might be able to use them. He and Val had some good mirrors too, but today his goodheartedness makes me feel very silly.