The care we bestowed on children during the conference each year was a priority for me. Twenty five bucks per family for eight hours of care included gluten free snacks, a magic show, an animal show, stenciling your own shirt, an art project and lots of free play. The care givers were a cast of teenagers and middle school girls who happen to like drawing, and pushing riding toys across the floor. 

 

One of the marvelous features to me looking back on thirteen years of doing this was that no child ever got hurt. What are the odds? Well there was a little boy who fell off the swing, and was tucked into the arms of my daughter while he cried. But maybe that is not such a bad outcome after all. He got back on the swing. There was an exciting time when the art project triggered the fire alarms and the whole building was evacuated into the snow until the chief gave the ok to go back in. Another year a grown up, not a child, gave his workshop, then felt enough abdominal pain to head to the ER. 

 

He even returned for the last session. 

 

My twins were four years old at the first conference. As part of the throng of the watched, they ate their share of pretzels, and petted the snakes and chinchillas. But in final years they were among the watchers, steering kids away from harm, and peeling fresh mandarins. It embodies for me the larger picture of what we were creating. Those who first come to be served in their own relationships become those who serve. 

 

There was a couple that came a handful of years back during a bleak spot of their own history. They were replenished, and continued to come. Later they sponsored friends who were struggling. 

 

A different couple that had been blessed by these events in the past brought someone else's children, in an effort to support them. 

 

The conference no longer happens, though we are enjoying other ways to bless couples. John and I lead four groups on zoom each week. My mind is playing with fresh ways to rejuvenate relationships running on empty.