Saturday Class

Friday afternoon found me back at Waterford after an inspiring educator convention in South Bend. While I was tempted to shop in the many stores, I decided to spend Friday afternoon and Saturday morning with my father.

“It’s like I am in class and you are the teacher,” he commented. “But it’s okay,” he quickly added.

His comment referred to our writing class. We decided to work on Christmas cards and an acrostic poem to include inside the card.

At first, he resisted. ” I don’t know what to write,” he complained. Undeterred by his comment, I persisted.

” Come on, Dad. It will be fun,” I encouraged. We worked together to write an acrostic poem about Christmas. The creativity bug inspired him to add more. ” How can I shape the words in a different way so that they are slanted?” he inquired.

Maddie, the nursing aide, overheard our conversation and told him they would work on it during their Tuesday session.

Our next class: Music. I wheeled him to the piano where I sat down at the familiar black instrument.

After playing many hymns, he indicated two songs he remembered: “Count Your Blessings” and “Now Thank We All Our God”. It surprised me that he didn’t know more, but music was never one of his hobbies.

His last comments made me stop and think.” Why do you suppose the church is called the communion of the saints and I cannot get another person to take me to church?” He was referring to the fact that Joan takes him to church once a month, a hired person takes him to church twice a month, but nobody takes him the other Sundays.

I had to stop and ponder this question. He saw my hesitation and persisted. ” I mean, if there are 160 people in a church and only 1 person picks me up, what does that say about the church?”

Choosing my words carefully, I explained to him that it may be difficult for families with young children to pick someone up for church and also pointed to my own brother who could also pick him up once a month. ” He wants to go to his own church,” my father explained. I secretly think that there is really no reason why my brother cannot take him to church one time per month, but I do not live there and should not judge. Should I make more of an effort to include this in our Michigan visits?

” I think I need to write an article for the church newsletter and title it Practical Christianity,” he decided. “One of my tips will be picking up people for church.” “Okay,” I answered. ” Maybe next time.”

I left him, thinking about this important question. Are there people in my own church who need someone to give them a ride?

Again, spending time at Waterford prompted me to think about life in a different way. It’s one of the many blessings of visiting my father.