Last week it was my good fortune to sing with sixty children. How could I be so lucky? The occasion was a summer bible camp, and it's a gig I have enjoyed since the seventies. They have thrived under a variety of banners, including Pine Needles, Maple Leaf, Laurel Leaf, and now Cathedral Summer Camp.
My guitar seems to capture the kids' interest, and I have a repertoire of songs that swings from Joseph's Coat and The Little Lost Lamb to Boom Chicka Boom and No Laughing in This House. The age range of campers is in the "life is magical" phase, and they join in with abandon.
Being with children helps me believe that the tap for playfulness has not dried up, no matter how heavy the news gets. Their faces when I sing the I Like Song, which highlights each of them for one brief chorus, gives me enough joy to leap over any animosity that dares to elbow its way into the rest of the afternoon. My prayer is that the moment in time stays imprinted on their hearts, that everyone in the circle likes them.
This year there happened to be a group of all boys. They are five and six, and were surprisingly calm. One of the songs, Jenny Jenkins, invites them to name a color, and their hands shot up no less than twenty times, making as many verses. Perhaps it was fun to challenge me to invent rhymes for orange and silver. The Zoo song feeds off of the animals they name and that too stretched out to a dozen rounds rather than the usual three.
The oldest group adores The Elephant Song, and danced around on a spiderweb with grace and inclusion, as they invited others to join in the fun.
The youngest set leaned in to hand motions depicting boats, and the construction of houses. Plus they enjoyed the mischievousness of No Laughing in This House.
Each day included snack, and worship, as well as projects and games. There were special times too, like a magic show, a treasure hunt, and visiting animals. But I was happy to stick with singing.
As I gazed into their faces, I felt a surge of love for them. Many are the children of people I sang with thirty years ago. In some families, I love their grandparents, and great grandparents.
John and I have a litmus test for the afterlife. If we find our eternity consists of composing and playing music, we can rest assured that we are in heaven. But if by chance our assignment is to record, edit and market those songs, we will know we are in hell.
