The Swimming Lesson

by Tori O’Connell  10/24/09

  I signed my four-year-old son up for swimming lessons two years ago.  There was a window, a sort of developmental sweet spot I was told, wherein a child is receptive to swimming and I didn’t want to miss it.  I introduced him to the teacher, who was as gentle and respectful of my son as she was passionate about swimming.  I’d heard great things about her but after the first lesson or two I was confused.  All she seemed to do was gently float him though the water, supporting him confidently and whisper in his ear.  He was calm, relaxed and clearly enjoyed the water, but he didn’t appear to be learning to swim.  When I questioned her about her methodology she replied simply, “At this point I just want him to like the water.  It’s important that they enjoy simply being in the pool.” 

A year later, I decided I would bring my son to the church of St. Andrew and Holy Communion.  He was less than enthused but I’d sunk a bit of time into finding just the right church for me and wasn’t about to take no for an answer.  I enjoyed Reverend Sandye’s open manner, sense of humor and unpredictable sermons and had a hunch that she would connect with children on their level-- openly, honestly and with tenderness.  My son voted to stay home and build lego ships. 

                Our first Sunday morning before church, after a lecture about the importance of social respect and collared shirts, I coaxed my son into the car.  I was mindful of his first impression of church and wanted it to be a good one.  He was scared for some reason and couldn’t explain why.  Since I wasn’t the type to throw my kid off the deep end, kicking and screaming, we stopped short at the bottom of the driveway where we discussed love and kindness before inching our way towards the steps. We had further chats about how church is a fun place full of nice kids at various pit stops-- the door, the vestibule, and the back of the sanctuary-- before finally slipping into a pew.  It took herculean patience and forgiveness on my end, but since those where some of the major tenants of Christianity, I figured I’d better hold fast, stay calm and lead by example.  Boy, was it hard.

 I realized at that point, it was out of my hands.  Now it was up to Reverend Sandye to work her magic and do her thing.  I watched, hoped and prayed that he would like church because-- little did he know-- he wouldn’t have a choice.  And as it turned out, he loved it. 

 The format of the service was as open and inviting as Reverend Sandye herself.  It had the free-flowing vibe of a sort of family, mixed-ages, kindergarten class.  Yes, there was structure and routine, but there was also great opportunity for participation.  Imagine letting the kids collect the alms and take communion!  Imagine being invited to sit on a cozy plush rug and talk to the good reverend as if she were your teacher and friend!  At this service-- which lasted a very wise 35 minutes-- my son had a voice.  She asked the kids questions, invited them to pray out loud and lead them in song.  She showed them that a reverend can have a sense of humor and warmth without any measure of patronization.  These kids weren’t talked down to, they were exalted, and they loved her.

 For me, Reverend Sandye’s particular genius was apparent in the way that she was able to distill the early morning’s adult sermon into a kid-friendly morsel that each and every child, regardless of age, could understand and digest.  And like the great animators of our time, she managed to simultaneously entertain the parents and kids, spinning both plates at once, so that I could also come away from the service feeling refreshed, enlightened and loved as well.

 After a few weeks of my son skipping up the driveway with a song in his heart, it dawned on me: Even though the service was brief and devoid of lectures, even though he was slow to memorize the Lord’s Prayer and the larger lessons of faith and dogma, and even though there was so much to learn and he knows so little—he is happy there.  He has the rest of his life to apply the teachings and recite the saints.  For now, church is a friendly place full of nice kids and a great minister, where every voice counts and every one is loved.  He is comfortable, relaxed, and enjoys being there, just like church should be.  Just like the water.