July 19, 2024
More than fifty four years ago, even before Linda and I were married, I pastored a small congregation in Alma, NY. The church building was tiny; 35 people in it would require sitting elbow to elbow. The people were wonderful; they took it as their personal mission to help young preachers get started. I know they helped this one get off the ground.
When we first started there, the congregation consisted of mostly elderly people (When you’re twenty, almost everyone seems elderly) who told us there weren’t any kids in the valley. We were naive enough to not believe them, and went door to door up and down the valley, looking for teenagers. In about two weeks, we had a youth group of twenty five or thirty kids who hung out at the parsonage, ate cookies as fast as Linda could bake them, and generally kept this young couple in prayer.
Last week, our grandkids started talking about holding an “ultimate Frisbee” night. This evening after dinner, they descended upon our backyard as friends started drifting in, bit by bit. They played for nearly an hour, after which they gathered around the campfire I had started, eating S’mores, watermelon, and popcorn, telling stories, and enjoying each other’s company. The laughter was almost non stop. As I write, remnants of them are sitting at our kitchen table playing cards.
I caught Linda walking from the house to the fire around which everyone was sitting. “It looks to me like we are finishing up the way we started,” I said. “Our place is filled with kids.” It’s a good thing. We’ve been in touch with quite a few of those kids from years ago. They are grandparents themselves now; some are still walking with Christ, following the decisions they made as teenagers. Some have overcome life obstacles we never knew about, inspiring us with their stories of resilience and courage. If we can build into our kids’ lives today as we were allowed to do fifty-four years ago, I will be able to die (someday—I’m not planning on packing it in anytime soon) a happy and successful man.
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