Last night, after arriving home late from a wedding, I quickly had a look at my Facebook. There, I found that I had been nominated, by my cousin, to share a Bible verse per day, for a week. These nominations are now quite common with social media & I don't always comply. I went to sleep knowing that I would, however, partake in this one.
I was awakened early this morning by the birds, sparrows to be exact, briskly chirp-chirping outside my bedroom window. And it is only now, as I type this, that I realize how fitting that is. God is magic. I couldn't fall back to sleep because closely followed by the chirp-chirping of the sparrows was the less pleasant, & much more bothersome, caw-cawing of Mr. Crow. The latter & incessant annoyance led me to compose this blog repeatedly, in my head, so I eventually gave in to the fight & just got up to begin.
I lay there pondering what scripture verse to begin with. It crossed my mind to use my favorite verse, & then for whatever reason, it came to me to start at the very beginning. Julie Andrews says, "that's a very good place to start." It's very early & who am I to argue with Julie, so here goes:
Matthew 10: 29 "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care."
My faith story began in my farm home & in my small-town, Saskatchewan, United Church. It is very sad that the little church no longer exists. I cannot remember if it was moved or torn down. However, the corner where it once stood, with its shiny steeple pointed toward heaven, now sits vacant. At least it did, the last time I passed by.
It's funny how big & ostentatious buildings seem to you when you are a child. I remember the stairs up to the main doors being so many & so high. The vestibule that greeted you was large & always inviting with a fluffy-handed grandma or grandpa waiting there to shake hands or invariably squeeze your chubby cheek. If you only arrived a little early, or on time, the church bells pealed loudly, as you entered, with Mr. Cowles manning the rope. The gold-colored wooden pews stood at attention lining both sides of the sanctuary. The plush red carpet ushered you in over the squeaky wooden floors beneath. In front, was all that seemed the "business" of the place; the pulpit, the piano, the communion table, what I thought was a big wooden throne for the minister...and on the walls; the large cross hanging front & center, the slotted frame filled with numbers representing the hymns we would sing that week, & on the side wall, a photo of Christ in a gilded frame. That photo, the iconic vision that is still Jesus, in my mind's eye, to this day. But...that which is most important, from my vivid childhood memory, is what sat on the corner of that communion table. A simple plastic piggy bank moulded into the shape of a church. I thought, it then, to be a replica of the very church in which I sat. And...on your birthday, you got to go up to the front & drop pennies into the slot, equal to your years, while the congregants sang. It was a special birthday song too, something about pennies dropping, if memory serves me. In all reality...the stairs were few & the vestibule small, but to the best of my recollection, the rest is fact.
It wasn't long after the birthday ritual that the children got to go downstairs to Sunday School. I began as a very shy & timid little girl & this was cause for much anxiety for me. Were it not for one lovely lady, I would have never ventured beneath, without my mother. Her name was Mrs. Beaunice or Beauller - oh how I wish I could remember for sure. She came to our pew, & coaxed me out from under my mother's wing with her smile & her kind authenticity. Honestly, I didn't even know she had a snack for us til much later! She led me down those frighteningly narrow stairs to what seemed the cavernous basement below. The smells of wax crayons, Sunday School papers & coffee, for later, overwhelmed my little senses. I sat down with a few other children, of whom I have no recollection, & heard this sweet story of the sparrows & of God's love for the birdies & for me. It was a simple message, followed by a snack of a purple plum.
I have never forgotten her (though of her name, I am unsure) the sparrows, or the plums. My Mom often sang a little song to me about the sparrows, after I told her what I had learned that day. It went: "God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets His tender view,
If God so loves the little things, I know He loves me too."
You say, "How can one Bible verse awaken so many memories?" I say, "It's just how I'm hard-wired."
I'm wired for words. You see a recipe, I see a completed dish shared with friends & memories made. You hear a familiar song, I hear words that shape a treasured memory & board me on a mind train to events both recent & past. You read a scripture & are moved, motivated or convicted - as am I, but those "words" are fortified with the memories attached.
I am not alone. I know there are many others like me. Others, who know the God of the universe, the God who sees the sparrow fall & sees you & me...
