Onward Christian Soldiers
Driving around this time of year and seeing all the banners inviting kids to come to VBS brings back many fond memories for me. I never missed a childhood summer without attending Vacation Bible School. It makes me hope that the kids who are going to the VBS’s of today are making unforgettable memories and having half as much fun as I did!
Our little church had the same routine year after year and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This was way back when most moms didn’t work so VBS was always during the day and nearly all of the teachers and helpers were church moms. As the kids arrived they were to wait outside along the sidewalk beside the church. Most of the kids were the regular church kids but there were always plenty of new faces to wonder about. We would start out in the mornings when it was still cool and damp and the sun was just beginning to peek over the trees and shine on the church.
Of course my mom was always one of the VBS teachers. We lived nearby so we would get there extra early and were privy to all the morning preparations. This would involve everything from teachers scurrying around to make sure their classrooms were in order to helping in the tiny kitchen with collecting the cookies and making the koolaid. Oh, those glorious sugar cookies and the red koolaid!
Back out to the sidewalk and the waiting. Part of our VBS ritual was to sing a song and march in to the church following the lucky couple of kids whose turn it was to carry the flags. We were filed in by age; youngest to oldest and were seated in the sanctuary accordingly. We did our pledge of allegiance to the American and the Christian flags and a pledge to the Bible. There were songs both old and new which were lead every year by the same lady from our church. Her name was Charolette and her voice was strong, very identifiable and definitely unforgettable! Our songs almost always had motions to go with them. You can’t sing a VBS song without motions!
We always had a missionary who would talk to us and show slides of where they came from. Our own congregation had a family who were missionaries in Africa so there were a couple of times that they would come back home and be there to show us what they had been doing. It was always fascinating to see slides from real people who had came from places so far away. One year the little church building that Dad had made was displayed and used during the missionary part as a teaching tool. I delighted in the fact that my daddy had made that.
It’s no surprise that my favorite part of VBS was craft time. And boy, did we make some fantastic crafts! I still have a few of mine. The painted brick with felt shapes that were once glued over the holes is still in use. Not quite as boldly displayed as it once was but still a useful doorstop. My tile trivet looks hideous but was such a joy to create. I feel sorry for whatever teacher had to oversee the grouting of these jewels! And in my kitchen drawer will always be my beautifully hand crafted little towel apron. It looks as nice as the day it was made (because it’s never been used for some reason) One of my favorites which is packed away somewhere is a glass bowl that we glued postage stamps on and then covered the outside with felt. No popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners for us! We had the real deal crafts. The heirloom quality stuff!
Probably my next favorite VBS thing was snack time. Oh, those glorious sugar cookies and the delicious red koolaid. What a perfect combination. But it doesn’t taste nearly as good unless you’re sitting behind the church on the sidewalk with the sun beginning to heat up. Knowing you only get the one or two cookies and one small cup of koolaid made it necessary to savor every bite and sip slowly. I was much more interested in that than running around and burning energy.
As I got older VBS was to be replaced with Sunset Bible Camp. This was a week away from home at a remote location far, far away. The buildings didn’t have air conditioning. The showers and toilets didn’t have doors (Yikes! No way!!) We all slept in a huge room on military looking beds. It was like Gomer Pyle like stuff but not at all funny. My first year at camp was miserable. I tried to fake sick and all I got was my first shot at Pepto Bismol. And on my first bus ride to the swimming pool I had a daddy long legs crawl up my leg. It was horrific. Amazingly I did return each year and I came to love the old camp with its stone buildings and no air conditioning. It’s a place that good, spiritual things happened.
As I look at the photograph of the sanctuary of my church it seems like home to me. I know each pew and I can visualize each family and each pew they occupied each Sunday. I can hear in my mind the distinctive voices singing their favorite old hymns. I can recall the faces and voices of the various ministers who preached from the pulpit. I remember being baptized in the cold water under the cross on the wall. I know each of the classrooms with the felt boards and cold metal chairs. And I can remember the smell the ink and hear the noise from the old printing press when Mom would create the church bulletin by typing and literally cutting and pasting in small pictures. And I remember proudly marching down the aisle behind the flags for VBS year after year. I can get lost in the memories from inside this building. They are more than comforting.
And I am ever so thankful to all the moms who helped out each year and especially to those who supplied the VBS sugar cookies and kooliad.
