Godly Play: The Glitter Calls

Godly Play strikes again.
It's sneaky like that.
Capturing souls by seemingly ordinary means.
Wood and sand and felt.
Capturing souls by which I really mean freeing them.
To wonder.
To play.
To doubt.
To be silent.
The silence that is sometimes so very loud.
The silence that sometimes evades us.
And with faith we wash paint brushes and load dish washers.
The mornings when our only prayer is one of Thanksgiving.
That God loves the children more than we do.
Because we are at our wits end.
And if someone blows out the Christ candle one more time we will cry.
But even so, we will be here next week.
Same time.
Same place.
Like life, we can't be sure if there is more good than bad.
Or if the good is simply worth more than the bad.
However our hearts do the calculations, we are left with a earning for more.
The glitter calls.
The clogged glue bottles.
The spilled juice on the carpet.
The wet paint.
The tangled yarn.
The missing story pieces hoping to be found.
They call.
Maybe one day we will be too tired or too busy to hear their voices.
But this Sunday morning as we scramble to prepare.
Putting bread in baskets and searching for clipboards.
When moving mountains simply means putting the rock of Mt. Sinai back on her shelf.
As we count the tops of heads in church to make sure volunteers are accounted for.
As we recite the day's story in our heads during the opening hymn.
Praying the morning's marathon hasn't swept the sacred words away.
May this be our silent reply, "Here I am."