Tag Archives: Children’s Spirituality

Interview With Tanya Campen, Author of HOLY WORK WITH CHILDREN… Plus a Book Giveaway!

When I first noticed a new title pop up on my radar called Holy Work with Children, I was immediately drawn to it. And once I saw the cover, I knew I had to read it. I was NOT disappointed.

Ever since being introduced to Godly Play, a Montessori-based curriculum method of exploring the mystery of God’s presence in our lives, the whole topic of children’s spirituality is one that I have fallen in love with. It is such a delight, then, to welcome the author of Holy Work with Children, Rev Dr Tanya Marie Eustace Campen to my blog today.

Read on to hear her thoughtful answers to my questions and be sure to enter a giveaway of Holy Work with Children, generously sponsored by Wipf and Stock Publishers.  Continue reading

Where’s Your Two-Year Old on Sunday Mornings?

So I’m perched on the front pew at Lake Harbor United Methodist Church in Muskegon.

I’d already known it was going to be a wonderful morning… what could be better than:

  1. Being together with my ‘tribe’.
  2. Walking into the sanctuary under a huge sign that read ‘WELCOMING ALL’ (and in the United Methodist Church, that really does mean welcoming all NO MATTER WHAT.)
  3. Being able to read my new books to lots of wonderful children there.
  4. Witnessing the consecration of their brand new Grace Space (a welcoming area set aside in the sanctuary where young children can play.)
  5. Listening to the witness of four-year old Lillian, as she loudly tells the congregation that her least favorite part of Sunday school is when she has to leave.

But the best part was yet to come…

It’s time for communion. As I perch on that front pew, I see a family come forward, not to receive communion, but to offer it. It’s a whole family… of five. There’s Mom and Dad, and three little (and I mean little ones.)

So, naturally, I grab my phone. I have to take pictures of this… it’s a new thing for me (and I don’t know it at the time, but it’s a new thing for them too.)

And as the people come forward… some in wheelchairs, some slowly pushing walkers, some skipping, some running, to receive their bread and wine, I’m watching this family… Continue reading

One Of My Favorite Books From 2017, and a Giveaway!

Out of all the wonderful children’s picture books I read in 2017, one stands out.

Maybe God is Like That Too, written by author Jennifer Grant and published by Sparkhouse Family, is a lovely little tale of a boy who wonders where God is and his wise grandma, who shows him.

Maybe it’s because I have ‘God conversations’ with my little six-year-old grandson, just like the characters in the story, or maybe it’s because I was lucky enough to meet the author at a Writer’s Conference where she signed my copy, but either way, this book is a favorite.

Told by a young boy, the book begins: Continue reading

What Could a Two Year Old Possibly Learn from Girls’ Love Letters from God?

Meet Sarabeth. This sweet little girl is only two years old. Here she is, reading to her teddy bears as they sit side-by-side on the sofa.

The book she reads is Love Letters from God: Bible Stories for a Girl’s Heart.

It’s not been released yet, but Sarabeth’s mama is one of ten bloggers who will take part in the upcoming book launch. This is her advance copy. And this little story is my first amazing glimpse into what God will do through its pages… Continue reading

Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors. And the Children…

It’s the first time there’s been no room for me to sit on the steps with the children as they gather to hear me read.

I look around, at all those little ones peering up at me, and somehow, it feels totally appropriate to kneel, in front of them, under the cross and flame. You’d think, with all those children, I’d be in a huge United Methodist church, perhaps in the big city of Grand Rapids. But I’m not… Continue reading

Where’s God?

So my husband said something from the pulpit that bothered me. Don’t get me wrong…. his sermons are great (okay, I’m a little biased).

He was talking about where we find God and how, with the advent of Facebook, we’re able to share our precious God-given moments with the world.

Our sweet granddaughter in Portland, Oregon, just started walking. He said. She’s adorable! Her parents post pictures all the time, and when I look at her, I think I see the face of God.

Of course he does. So do I. Just look at her….who couldn’t see God in those blue eyes and that big, toothy smile?

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But last week on Facebook, I saw another child’s face.  I didn’t want to see it. (That’s the trouble with Facebook…you end up seeing things you never wanted to).

It wasn’t my sweet smiling granddaughter. It was the boy everyone’s talking about, the boy everyone’s writing blog posts about, the Syrian boy covered in dust and blood, sitting motionless with haunting eyes. The boy who didn’t look like a boy at all.

When I first saw that image as I scrolled through my news feed, I just quickly zoomed right along. What on earth was that? I thought, in shock. Was that a doll? That couldn’t possibly have been real. I pushed it to the back of my mind. I didn’t want my thoughts filled with horror like that, I didn’t want my mind seeing those images. I didn’t want my nice, joy-filled day interrupted like that. So I didn’t even read the headline.

His name is Omran. The image of him, bloodied and covered with dust, sitting silently in an ambulance awaiting help, is another stark reminder of the toll of the war in Syria.

Whatever that was, it must be someone’s idea of a sick joke. I thought, and continued scrolling until I came to my smiling granddaughter again.

But it wasn’t a joke was it? It was real. This little boy is real! His name is Omran Daqneesh. He was pulled out from under the rubble of his home in Syria. He is five years old, the same age as my eldest grandson, the one who just moved to a beautiful new neighborhood surrounded by trees where he rides his bike with his brother.

Omran’s brother died yesterday from his injuries.

And even though I’m a strong believer I just can’t help asking….. where’s God in all of that?

Why do some children die and some children live?

Why is it that my grandchildren can ride their bikes in safety while other children are blown to bits in Syria?

It’s so easy for me to see God in the happy, smiling face of my granddaughter, but where’s God in the haunted face of Omran?

If I believe that God is in every child, (which I do), then God can’t just be in the face of the happy – God has to be in the face of the hopeless, and the haunted, and the hurt. God IS there… in the face of little Omran.

God is there, crying in silent agony for what was meant to be a beautiful world where babies die and children are bombed.

I don’t know the answers to all my questions. But I do know that I can help.

I don’t understand God. But I understand my responsibility.

I cannot turn away. I am called, ALL believers are called, to be part of the healing in whatever way they can.

Only healing can take away the hurt.

*****

Sign this British PETITION to help 300 refugee children who are stranded in Calais.

Sign the petition or donate to the WHITE HELMETS.

 

Why Your Church Needs to Celebrate Children’s Sabbath

She could have been at home, watching cartoons or playing outside.

She could have been out shopping with her mama, or enjoying a pancake breakfast in the restaurant on this Sunday morning.

But instead, she’s here, this little girl with the blonde hair and the big pink bow. She’s here, breaking the bread, and smiling, holding it out at arm’s length well before we’ve even reached the altar, as if it’s really important, as if to say:

Come and get this! It’s just for you! Its special!

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And it was.

In fact, my whole morning was special.

It was Children’s Sunday in this United Methodist Church, a special day set aside to celebrate the children in our midst.

Everything about this service said: We love children. Children are special to us.

From the bulletin cover,

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to the Call to Worship…

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From the prayers of blessing,

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to the benediction…

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everything involved children, and told them, over and over again:

You’re important here.

And so it’s not really surprising is it, that the little girl with the blonde hair and the big pink bow should be here at all? Because isn’t this the place where she knows she’s welcomed, and loved, and needed, and important?

I’m watching this little child.

I notice how she crouches down to one who is smaller than her.

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I see how she fixes her eyes on one who is older than her.

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And when it’s my turn, she gives me the biggest smile and tears off the biggest piece of bread, and she tells me, quite confidently and with no doubt in her voice:

 Jesus loves you.

I don’t know how many people received communion from this little girl.. but she managed to make me feel like I was the only one who mattered that morning.

I don’t know how she did that.

But she did.

No wonder that the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

***********

Eight easy ideas to include in Children’s Sabbath:

  1. Have a child design the bulletin.
  2. Use the Call to Worship included in this post.
  3. Have children read the scripture.
  4. Invite them to extend their hands during prayers of blessing.
  5. Have children lead the benediction, ‘Go in peace to love and serve the Lord’ in sign language.
  6. Let children serve communion.
  7. Decorate the altar with balloons and toys.
  8. Before the service begins, hand musical instruments out to every child and invite them to play along whenever music is heard.

My thanks to Pastors Mary Ivanov and Erin Fitzgerald for these wonderful ideas, and for reminding me in powerful ways to whom the Kingdom of God belongs.

Who Knows?

On a snowy afternoon in a little Michigan town, a blue-eyed three-year old with wavy hair opened an early Valentine’s day gift from his grandma.

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She took photos of him as he snuggled with his mom to read his new book.

He lifted the flap to read his love letter from God, and his little face just lit up when he saw his own name written inside. IMG_20160122_174607And who knows how God is at work in young hearts and minds as they open those books, and read their letters, and hear God call their very own name?

Who knew that when God called the name of Moses from within the flames of a burning bush, an entire nation would be rescued?

Who knew that when God called the name of Samuel in the quietness of the temple, that little boy would grow up to anoint kings?

Who knew that when God called the name of Mary in the stillness of a Jerusalem morning, when all hope was gone, hope would be restored to the world?

Who knows when God calls the name of Austin through the letters of a little book, what that young boy will do?

Who knows?

Visit the link below to read 50 ways for your family to celebrate Valentine’s Day, and enter the giveaway to win your own copy of the little book that Austin holds.

Valentines Traditions & Little Love Letters from God!

Blog Stop #2!

How exciting for me to participate in a tour for the release of Little Love Letters from God from the comfort of my own home!

Little Love Letters Cover

This week’s stop in the virtual world is with Jenn, a homeschooling mom of eight! (Did you know that I’m one of eight too?)

Jenn blogs at Treasuring Life’s Blessingswhere she agreed to post a review of the book. Be sure to stop by to read the wonderful review and enter the book giveaway too!

Jenn started writing during one of the darkest times of her life, when she found out that her baby son was going to die. Jenn and her family held little Noah for just nine precious hours. So it’s really not surprising that her favorite story in the book would be this one…..

Inside Noah's Ark

I know that Jenn has already claimed the wonderful words contained in God’s love letter for that story, which say:

Just like I carried Noah, I will carry YOU too.   With All My Love, God.

No matter how long or short our days, God carries each one of us, in those big strong arms that hold us tight, even when we don’t know it.

Sam and the Red Balloon

It’s Sunday morning, bright and early. I’m excited to be here, in Portland, Oregon, to meet my wonderful new granddaughter and spend time with her big brother.

Sam is not yet two and a half. He is utterly adorable, and utterly sweet. I didn’t realize quite how sweet he really is until I got to spend seven precious days with him.

Sam in tree

We arrive at Montavilla United Methodist Church and jump out of the car. It’s cold and rainy in Portland this morning. We pull our coats up around our ears, put our heads down and get ready to scurry inside.

But Sam has seen something. He pulls on my hand, makes a squealing sound and points upward. He can’t quite say airplane yet, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s seen.

We all turn to gaze upwards, and we see a tiny red balloon, floating far, far away, being carried on the wind through Portland’s cloudy skies. It’s only there for a moment, and then it’s gone.

Wow Sam! We say. Good job! You saw a balloon!

And that’s it. That’s my little story. Except I think there’s so much more to it than that. I’ve thought a lot about that tiny red balloon since Sam saw it, less that a week ago. And I got to thinking:

Why did he see that balloon?

How did he see that balloon?

He was the smallest person there. My husband is over six feet tall, my sons are taller still. But Sam is only two feet tall. You could argue that us grown ups were closer to the balloon, and therefore, shouldn’t we have been the ones to see it?

But we didn’t. Sam did.

And the only possible explanation, the only possible reason, is that he was the one looking up. And why would he be doing that, if he wasn’t expecting to see something… something surprising, and wonderful?

And that makes me think about God too.

We grown ups, we think we’re the ones closer to God. We think we’re the ones who know more, who read the Bible, who know how to pray, who study the scriptures.

But maybe, just maybe, our children are closer to God….because they are the ones looking up, the ones expecting to see God, the ones knowing that God will show up in surprising and wonderful ways.

Like little Sam, who looked up one Sunday morning and saw that tiny red balloon, as it floated across Portland’s cloudy skies and far, far away.