March 13, 2012
That the generations to come might know,
and the children yet unborn;
that they in their turn might tell it to their children;
So that they might put their trust in God,
and not forget the deeds of God,
but keep his commandments; Psalm 78:6-7
I sit on the rug and tuck my feet up under me. The storyteller begins, and while it is a familiar tale, I am drawn in. I watch with fascination as with practiced expertise she moves the wooden figures, props that illustrate her narrative: the sheep, the wolf, the shepherd, the sheep pen with its gate.
When my children were small I sat on other rugs with them for story time—at school, at the library, at church, at home. Sometimes I was the storyteller, sometimes the mom with a toddler tucked safely in my lap.
Now I am the adult who is invited to take the weight off my feet and set aside for half an hour the cares I carried with me to this day. There are no children here this time—only grown-ups people this story rug. We gather for hospitality and conversation, planning and visioning, sustenance on our journey. We gather to carry on the narrative in which we live and move and have our being.
I listen to the story. And once again I name the wolf at my gate and once again I am brought up short by the love of the Good Shepherd and once again I set aside the doubts that assail me and remember where to put my trust.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012
