Donut Fight

One of my goals for small group with my fourth and fifth graders is simply to “do life together.” Small group time is short – even shorter now than it was at the beginning of the year – so, some weeks, that isn't any more complicated than listening to stories as we walk along in the hallway.

One week it meant taking a field trip to go “spy” on the middle school worship from the balcony, so that my nervous fifth graders could see what they are soon to be thrown into. One week it meant bringing a stack of foam swords down to have a battle in the February sunshine. Sometimes it means splitting off into two and threes to just listen to each other.

This week, it meant taking the donuts they had earned by memorizing their verse outside into the weather that finally decided to play at Spring. It meant laughing together as they put more sugar into their bodies than they EVER needed, and, when they almost simultaneously decided that that was quite enough sugar, thank you very much, it meant tearing the unwanted ends into little bits and having a massive, laughing, running, falling over each other, donut fight out on the lawn.

None of it was planned, but it was GOOD.

It was connection. It was a chance to learn more about those kids and communicate more to them then we ever could have done sitting in a circle talking one at a time – or, knowing my group, talking six at a time, about twelve different subjects, while all trying to simultaneously hold eye contact with Jessica.

My kid who came two weeks ago, absolutely terrified of getting lost in such a big building with such a lot of people, ran and laughed and looked the farthest thing from worried as he walked with me to story, eyes sparkling, asking if I would be there next week, because he liked it here and wanted to come back.

My kids who came for the second time with a friend, fifth graders who tower a full head over my fourth grade boys but who want just as desperately to know that there is someone who cares them no matter what, crowded around after large group and burst forth with stories, real stories, the type that, ever so briefly, let you catch a glimpse of their soul.

My shyest fourth grader finally felt safe enough to reach up and bop me back when I tapped his head with a rolled up memory verse paper, opening up more with that one action than he has done all year.

Every single one of the kids sat closer during story than they ever have, a messy, irregular, tight sort of a clump that felt distinctly like family and like trust, the type of trust that allowed them to focus more on the video than they ever have and to look at me – and each other – and tell with their eyes when they got something because of that focus.

And on and on and on.

Next week won't look anything like this week did, because next week will be a different arrangement of kids and a different set of needs. Next week we might sit and talk more than we run and move. Next week the boys might not outnumber the girls by four to one. Next week, we'll figure it out as the kids show up and let their eyes tell the stories that their words won't.

Their virtue for the month is forgiveness. (Which, ironically enough, comes up quite a lot when just doing life together.) The “lesson” for this week , though, looked more like learning that God is love and God is safe (although not tame!) and that His Body can be those things as well.