December 2001

Why does an irreverent sin-bag like myself go to church? A simple answer might be to worship, to give thanks, to support and be supported, to learn. But I think what really keeps me coming back are the wild, unexpected bonuses, like last Sunday's safety glasses. It started with a young man in gray jacket and pants, fairly new to the church and fairly new to walking. He's the kind of person who uses the seat of each chair to steady himself because the seat is at shoulder height and very convenient. When it was time for the Children's Sermon, his parents gave him the go-ahead and he began working his way down the row towards the wide open spaces of the carpet.

Perched on his forehead were safety glasses, the big clear plastic kind with a black elastic band holding them in place. And as he comes to our end of the row, he looks up at me, and I'm looking right at him, and he says, softly, with a slight lisp, "Goggles." And then he pulls them down over his eyes, and heads up front, hands out for balance, for the story about the Baby Jesus. It doesn't get any better than that.