Childhood's end: again, with balloons
My church has a lovely custom which we have performed the past several years in order to celebrate the children we have seen grow up in the church who are about to graduate from high school. A knotted fleece blanket is made for each grad in their high school colors, and they are draped over the rail at the front of the church through the entire service. At the end of the service, the students, each wearing a corsage, are called up, and they are joined by their families, Sunday school teachers, confirmation leaders, and any other caring adult who has gotten to know them over the years who wishes to come up, too.
Delia's school doesn't really have colors--it's a very small charter school--but their mascot is the dragon, and they are very LGBTQ friendly, and so the rainbow is welcome there. The church found exactly the right fabric to honor her ("my blanket is the awesomest!" she said). At the end of the prayers of blessing and sending forth, the parents and other adults who love the child drape the child in his or her blanket.
Out in the Narthex, a gift bag is set up for each grad, with a description of their plans for the coming year taped to the front (where they plan to go to college or trade school; what they want to study). The congregation is encouraged to write caring notes which are slipped into each of the balloon-decorated bags, and then everyone celebrates with cupcakes.
When we were walking out to the car, it brought another memory flooding back, which I wrote in my journal in 2005 here. This is the crucial paragraph, a description of a moment when I looked at her when she was almost nine years old:I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.
I showed the entry to Delia recently. She looked at me today as we approached the car, again with balloons bobbing over her head, and she said aloud just what I was thinking: "a childhood, with balloons!" Now her childhood is ending, again with balloons, and a lovely ritual to remind her that no matter where she goes on her journey from here, our love and our prayers go with her.
This entry was originally posted at http://pegkerr.dreamwidth.org/1704137.html. There are
comments on the post.
Delia's school doesn't really have colors--it's a very small charter school--but their mascot is the dragon, and they are very LGBTQ friendly, and so the rainbow is welcome there. The church found exactly the right fabric to honor her ("my blanket is the awesomest!" she said). At the end of the prayers of blessing and sending forth, the parents and other adults who love the child drape the child in his or her blanket.
Out in the Narthex, a gift bag is set up for each grad, with a description of their plans for the coming year taped to the front (where they plan to go to college or trade school; what they want to study). The congregation is encouraged to write caring notes which are slipped into each of the balloon-decorated bags, and then everyone celebrates with cupcakes.
When we were walking out to the car, it brought another memory flooding back, which I wrote in my journal in 2005 here. This is the crucial paragraph, a description of a moment when I looked at her when she was almost nine years old:I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.
I showed the entry to Delia recently. She looked at me today as we approached the car, again with balloons bobbing over her head, and she said aloud just what I was thinking: "a childhood, with balloons!" Now her childhood is ending, again with balloons, and a lovely ritual to remind her that no matter where she goes on her journey from here, our love and our prayers go with her.
This entry was originally posted at http://pegkerr.dreamwidth.org/1704137.html. There are
comments on the post.