A Security Blanket of Clouds

My father recently shared a story in a sermon about a very perfect moment in time. It was a beautiful summer day when I was seven and we were lying on the trampoline watching the clouds role by against a beautiful canvas of blue. It was a moment when time stood still and none of the terrors and fears in the world existed. It was just me, dad and the clouds with nothing else around us.

I hadn't thought about this day for a long time, but as soon as he mentioned it, the memory was vivid in my mind. I could practically smell the summer air as he told the story and feel the sunshine burning my fair skin. I remember lying there and telling him that I was going to live with him and mom forever, but that is no longer the case.

I am off to college in seven months. I am no longer a seven-year-old on a trampoline, I am a seventeen-year-old who has experienced more than I knew existed ten years ago. I have had a friend commit suicide, known many people who have battled with cancer -some who made it and some who did not- and I have watched the world as it slowly crumbles.

The world is no longer still. In fact, it seems to be moving faster everyday. I am very aware of what America is facing, how students are feeling and how life cannot be perfect. It can seem quite grim, it really can. But when I look at those clouds fly across the sky, I am transported into a world where nothing is wrong and the world is beautiful. The clouds will always be there and no matter where I end up, my father and I will be able to look at them and remember the day on the trampoline. And then time will stop.

The Final Sunday

Yesterday was the last Sunday church service in the church building that I have grown up in. On the first Sunday I attended Bethany Community Church, I was five years old and it was to be my home for the next twelve years. Little did I know that over those twelve years I would have performed in seven children's musicals, participated in three different choirs, be baptized by my own father, light candles at the Christmas Eve service, be knocked out of my chair by a Sunday school teacher and make lattes for dozens of people every Sunday. A lot has happend, but now it is time to move on. Attendance has hit 1300 people a week and that space which has been home to so many memories will become a memory in and of itself.

Attending the last service in that building brought back so many memories. I sat in the balcony with my friends for the last time and I watched the sun shine through the stained glass behind the cross for the last time. But it was not sad for me. Instead, it was quite beautiful. It was amazing to think of all of the people who have been involved in making my memories at Bethany. 14 Sunday school teachers, dozens of youth leaders, 1 choir director, 2 small group leaders, and countless friends. So much effort is put into making your church experience a memorable one and it feels as though Bethany should win a prize.

I'll never forget the Sunday school classes and choir rehersals. I won't forget hiding in a closet with a friend to avoid children's church and I won't forget playing Sardines with the youth group when one boy clung to the underside of a car so it was impossible to see him. Of course, there was the time that every sixth grader experiences when Greg Collins knocks over tables to represent Jesus destroying the temple. And the two year olds who dress up as angels and sing "Away in a Manger". The list could go on forever, but there is no need for that.

The building is still there, but these memories are not so much about the building, they are about the church. More memories will be made in the new building and old memories will not be forgotten. Next Sunday will be an important one. Perhaps there will be someone there who will make Bethany their home for the next twelve years. And that's what it's all about. It is about creating a place of shelter and a home for anyone who will come. That is Christ's love working through us.