Sunday School is its own culture

I just got home from babysitting all morning, three sometimes adorable boys, each filled with an exuberant amount of energy.  We have a weekly playdate that consists of emptying every container and toybox, touching every toy for a few seconds before moving on to the next, semi-watching a Disney movie while simultaneously playing, practicing throwing the ball gently and not hitting our little brothers, and eating snacks. 



Traditional Noah's Ark



I watch them in a Sunday School nursery and I can't help but notice that almost every Sunday School nursery I've been in looks the same.  A swing, a few rocking chairs, lots of toyboxes and containers, and always a mural of Noah's ark on the wall.  You know the one.  The big picture of the cute ark and friendly Noah with his beard and robe, and all the animals smiling in pairs, the giraffes heads poking through the roof.



A bit ironic when you think about it_ having Noahs ark all smiley and cheerful in every nursery.  I mean when you really stop to think about it, the animals were in the ark because God was pouring out his wrath over all the earth and drowning everyone and everything that wasn't on that boat.  It was a world wide tragedy bigger than 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina.  And think about the animals.  They were forced to get on in pairs.  You don't think at least a few of those animals were saying "Noah... really... Geoffrey? Of all the giraffes... you stick me with Geoffrey? He's so geeky and always playing with toys and he can't even write his "R" in the right direction.  So juvenille."  Or "Noah.... seriously... Jimminy?  He is such a killjoy.  He is ALWAYS telling me what to do and that I should do the right thing.  He never lets me have any fun.  Major nag."  Or maybe "Noah... I can't take it anymore! I can't believe you picked Pumba!  He smells so bad it makes me want to faint.  And I just saw him eat three burrittos and chilli cheese fries.  He needs to sleep with Peppe La Pew tonight because I am so not sharing my mud pile with him."  Or "Noah. The rabbits are at it again.  This cannot keep happening.  I have children now to think about." I realize in each of these examples the female is the one complaining, but isn't that kind of how reality is anyway?



My personal favorite





I joke, but really I'm kind of amazed at a childs innocence.   Violence doesn't really seem to exist for them.  They know about it, but it seems to mesmorize them in a story-like fashion rather than hinder their joy.  The four year old today asked to watch Tarzan today and then asks me "Wait... is that the one with the baby? And the Cheetah? And the Cheetah kills the baby?... Awesome! I love that cheetah."  As I contemplated between laughing and being utterly disturbed,    he looked over to his younger brother and gave him a hug and said "I love you 'siah."  Precious moments.



I just love their honesty.  This morning for some reason the women decided to turn on the speakers in the nursery.  I babysit for a womens Beth Moore study and other than the two moms I sit for, most of the women are easily in their 50s-70s.  All of a sudden we hear this elderly woman start talking, and then she starts singing songs in a somewhat opera fashion like "Goooood said it.... IIIII Belieeeeve it.... And that's goooooood enoff for meeee... Yes Goooood said it... so youuuuuuu should belieeeeve it... and it should be gooooood enoff for youuuuu tooooo."  And "Goooooood loves me, so IIIII can risk loving youuuuu, and Goooood loves youuuuuu, so youuuu can rissssk loving meeeee toooooo." 



Seriously, Can't make this stuff up.  So as we're being serenaded the two year old looks at me and says "I don't like this song."  And I was like... "Well bud, me neither." I think it was the first time I've actually wished I could be listening to the Wiggles "Fruit Salad" song on repeat instead.   Then later as Beth Moore was preaching to us (If you haven't heard Beth Moore, think about those big black televangelists like Rev. TD Jakes, who yell things like "WE NEED TO REPENT! THE SPIRIT IS UPON US! CAN SOMEONE SAY JESUSSSSS!!"... but tiny and blonde and with a texas accent)  the four year old looks at me and says "Can you please ask her to stop talking.  I want to watch my movie, and she's very loud."  I love Beth Moore_I've read a few of her books_ but she was interrupting the epic cheetah coming after the baby scene, so I can understand his frustration.



I just love their bluntness.  Blunt and Innocent.  Two qualities I wish we held on to as we grew up.  Even at 1, 2, and 4 these boys all crave indepdence.  They want to be grown up and do everything themselves and any rule I give them like "Don't stick your finger in the electric socket" or "Don't use your brother as a chew toy" are just me taking away their fun.  I don't think that part changes much as we get older.  Our desire to know everything, to be independent.  Don't get me wrong, independence is great, but sometimes I think we stop growing simply because we feel there is nothing anyone else can teach us or show us. I think this is a horribly dangerous mindset. 



It's like a fruit tree.   When the fruit is green, it's growing, it's alive.  When the fruit turns ripe, it falls off the tree and dies.  There's nothing else for it to do once it's grown.  I think our lives work the same way.  As long as we're growing and we recognize that maybe someone out there might know more than we do, we continue to grow and learn and thrive.  Once we step into that mindset of thinking we know everything, there's nothing left. 



I love how much I learn just by hanging out with kids.  So much pure, bare wisdom.  Epiphany for the day- We're not as independent as we think we are, sometimes rules are there for a reason, and every Sunday School nursery has a Noahs Ark mural.