Category Archives: good faith
A surprising lesson from a kids game:
I played musical chairs with my Sunday school kids in two ways. First the traditional version with chairs numbering one less than the players participating arranged, music played, and when the music stopped the children scrambled to claim a chair. One sad-faced child did not find a seat and skulked away, excluded to watch forlornly while the other children played. One more chair removed, and so on.
For the second version, we started out with one less chair at the beginning, same as always, and we removed one chair on each round, same as always. The difference was no child was ever eliminated or excluded. When the music stopped, the children found chairs BUT everyone had to have a place, even if it meant sharing.
What warmed my heart more than anything? The kids shared their chairs even when they didn’t have to.
They didn’t evenly distribute themselves to claim space and only share when there were no more empty chairs. We removed one chair per round and when the music stopped there would be two or three left over. Kids reached out to take other kids by the hand to say, “Sit with me.” They were smiling and laughing and hugging. It was wonderful.
Including everyone was happier than excluding and rejecting. Sharing was more satisfying than staking out space alone.
The first time the kids played they did as they were told and followed the rules of the game. They didn’t question the dog-eat-dog nature of the game. The second time they also followed rules, but they were better thought-out rules, and it was way more fun. Inclusion is important in our affirming church. The kids lived that intuitively when playing a game.
How often do we follow dog-eat-dog rules without question when we could easily change the rules to a much more fun, satisfying option?
We must be careful and mindful of the rules we teach our children. What an awesome responsibility.
Seven years ago I wrote a post entitled I want to live like Alex. It was a tribute to a man I admired. Last week Alex’s wife, Jane, died and over the past week I have found myself thinking, “I want to live like Jane too.” They were a twosome in so much of the good they did in the world. Together the quiet but powerful pair took action instead of waiting for others to take care of things, they spoke up even when it wasn’t the popular option, and they fulfilled needs.
She died on her ninety-third birthday and, like her husband before her, it was standing-room-only at her celebration of life. Like her husband before her, the church filled with an overflowing multi-faith, multi-generational, multi-cultural assembly of people whose lives she had touched.
All those people were there because, if the world were full of Jane McKeagues, the world would be a peaceful, joyful, love-filled, strong, just place.
If I lived like Jane, I would greet everyone, always, with a big smile and make each person feel that he or she was the most important person in the room. I would travel often and engage in spontaneous, curiosity-driven conversations with people to get to know them and to get to know what I could do to help them. I would speak truths quietly so as to engage, not offend.
If I lived like Jane, I would embrace reading aloud to enrich the experience of books. I would think deeply about what I have read and lived, and I would tell stories to inspire people. I would speak when necessary, but only with the fewest number of the most impactful words.
If I lived like Jane, I would tell people how grateful I am for their friendship. I would challenge my body, my mind and my spirit throughout my whole life. I would honour myself, but care for my family with deep devotion they never doubt.
People have been known to ask “What would Alex do?” when faced with a difficult situation. Now they ask “What would Jane do?”
Because we want to live like Jane too.
Please read my other Alex and Jane stories and be inspired!