god's purpose on the job

(I will now break all cardinal rules for the internet by talking about work. I have never done this before.)

I'Gorgeous flowersm having a hard time at work. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't environment. I strive to rise above the annoyances, abuse and negativity. Last week I failed utterly. Failure is tough when you take being an example seriously. I don't know how my work struggles will end. Sometimes I think I should get out while I still have sanity or while I can still get a good reference. On the other hand, when things are going well - which they are more than they aren't - I love my job, really love it. But it's a volatile environment governed by values I abhor.

Last week was horrible. I felt antagonized and abused and a co-worker is driving me absolutely bonkers. I snapped. I said nothing "bad," but I totally abandoned my convictions about letting stuff slide.

Years ago I had an epiphany that almost every struggle I gohad boiled down to pride, my pride. Since that revelation, I have made "let it go" a personal commandment. Last week I let nothing go. I behaved no better than my colleague and am quite ashamed of myself for being as small as she. (Work aside, I had some significant issues going on at home and that made my tolerance level pretty low. That's not an excuse, that's simply a fact. I was running on emotional fumes.)

At work, people are not appreciated or esteemed. I'm in a position of influence and think my purpose in being there is to improve the lives of those I work with. This is counter to the whole environment. It's a mission I take seriously; a mission I think God placed in my heart. I want desperately to make a difference in the lives of those I work with. When the going gets really tough, I try to remember God gave me a mission to improve the lives of my co-workers and that seems to make my resolve stronger.

Yesterday Pastor Serge spoke on God's purpose in our lives. ("David served God's purpose in his own generation." Acts 13:36) I was reminded that I have a purpose and an assigned job. Improving the lives of those I work with is a significant purpose in my life. It's far behind my relationship with God or my family, but nonetheless a God-given purpose.

Points from Pastor Serge's sermon that I will remind myself of regularly:

- When God gives a purpose, He equips us.

- God works in our desires. (My desire to better the lives of those I work with is a God-given desire.)

- He empowers me with certain skills.

- He is always with me, even when I mess up like I did last week.

- He provides development. Part of the development I see working in my life is last week's screw ups. He used that to remind me how badly I want to be better than that; how badly I want to be an example of joy, peace, patience and humility.

- It's not in vain and it will be rewarded. I may never know if I made a difference, but God knows my heart and my desires and He will reward my efforts.

- The reward will be based on my faithfulness. This is more encouragement to carry through with the mission and not succumb to the pride that wants to destroy me and that God-given purpose.

- My work will be tested. And it was. Last week.

- Works are an expression of my faith. My whole life is an expression of my faith. I want the work I do, the way I act, my smile, my concern for others, my casual greetings to my co-workers, I want it all to express my faith; to express that I am different.

- God is with me to fulfill His purpose. I was renewed by this reminder. I can go back to work tomorrow with a clean slate (in my heart) ready to continue the commitment to make a difference.

- David wasn't rejected by God when he sinned. Even having sinned big time, David served God's purpose in his generation. I can too.

(Disclaimer: This post by no means indicates I will be at this job forever. There will come a time when I leave. I don't want to leave prematurely and I want to leave knowing I have served God's purpose in my being there.)

a gordon quip

Gordon makes a friendWe, as a family, have a tendency to sit right up next to each other in church. I don't know why, nor had I really noticed it until a friend pointed it out. We bunch right up.

Every so often when we sit after singing, Gordon will practically be left with nothing but half a chair. The first time this happened, he leaned over and whispered for us to shuffle down. I was surprised thinking he was saying, "give me some space". I looked quizzically at him. He whispered, "I just want to get my other butt cheek on the chair too."

church visit

Black choir Recently I heard an ad on the radio for a church that sounded fascinating. I wanted to know more. I can't say what I had in mind because it was way on the southside of Edmonton. The ad said - Gordon and I both heard it - that church was at 12:00 - 2:00.

Off we went. We started to enter the service when a black man blocked the entrance and said, "What do you want?"

My first thought was from one of my favorite movies, The Out-of-Towners, where Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn go into a church thinking it was "church" and then learn it is a sex addicts' meeting. The group facilitator asked Steve about himself and he said, "We just came here to worship, but this is the wroooooong denomination." 

When Mr. Welcoming Committee greeted us with "What do you want?", my first thought was, "We just came to worship, but this is the wroooooong denomination." Gordon, however had clarity of mind, something I'm prone to lose. He realized that the African gentleman was speaking his second language and didn't mean his question quite as harshly as it sounded.

Gordon told the man we were there to attend church. The usher-lady welcomed us into the main room and escorted us to the FRONT ROW. On the stroll up to the front row, we couldn't help noticing we were the ONLY white folk there. A bit awkward.

And the final awkward was this: seconds after we sat it became obvious we were at a business meeting not a church service. Turns out the ad on the radio was old. Church started at 10:00. We arrived for the 12:00 service which actually was their annual business meeting.

Extremely uncomfortable, I leaned over and whispered, "I think we should apologize and leave." Gordon said, "No way, I have all kinds of things to say." I sank lower in the chair. (Gordon didn't add anything to the meeting.)

I'm still curious what their church is like. I guess I'll never know. Their business meeting was pretty average though.

yesterday when she was young

Old photo To be truthful I don't feel like writing today. I don't feel like doing much. But as we all know it's good for character to do something even when we don't feel like it. After all, contrary to my most popular feeling, it's not really just about me.

I pondered what to write and couldn't think of a blinkin' thing. So I asked myself what are some things that made me smile recently. Awwhh. Now I can think of a few things to say.

Several years ago when we got a new pastor someone came up with a brainy idea of having a bulletin board in the foyer at church with every family or person represented. An organized gentleman was the bulletin board overseer and he regularly brought his camera to church to capture some Kodak moments. Right after he took my family's picture he went over to an elderly lady (she was 87, I believe) and tried to coax her into letting him take her picture for the bulletin board.

She wanted no part of it. "No, no, no, you can't take my picture," she told him. He tried to talk her into it and she persisted. NO was the final answer. However she was willing to bring a picture from home. He was delighted and she was happy too.

The following Sunday I was a greeter so I watched Ethel waddle in with her walker, purse and a package. I asked if I could help her by taking something for her. She handed me the package and told me to hang it on the bulletin board.

I did just that. Beside the rest of our snapshots, I hung Ethel's 10 x 13 black and white framed photo of when she was 23. She looked lovely.

churchy chuckle


Several years ago during the singing portion of church a lady near the back started wailing. Wailing loudly. Her sorrowful moans and groans permeated the sanctuary.

The young music minister had a deer-in-the-headlight stare. Clearly, he didn't know what to do with the emotional outburst that interrupted the music.

After a few awkward moments of this lady's bellowing dominating the air, the minister spoke. "Let's take a few minutes to pray. I sense in my spirit that there is someone here in pain."

As per usual I nearly lost composure. I whispered to Gordon, "You reckon?". He never appreciates my comments at moments like these.


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sometimes sin feels good

In church yesterday Pastor was talking about finding yourself in the middle of sinful situations and thinking, "This isn't so bad..."

His theme reminded me of an incident back when I was a pastor's wife. Gordon had just preached a sermon similar to the one I heard yesterday. In his sermon Gordon said something to the effect of "When sin feels good . . ."

An honest person will admit that sin feels good for a season even if that season is only a few seconds long. If sin never felt good, we'd never sin. Gordon was not promoting sin, he was promoting the higher "feel good" of doing right and following God.

When church was over Gordon and I stood at the back greeting folks as they left. A notoriously hoity-toity parishioner made her way toward us. I could tell before she opened her mouth that her nose was out of joint over something.

When she got to Gordon she rebuked, "Gordon, sin never feels good and I think what you said could be damaging."

She walked off looking much lighter having set him straight. She was just out of ear-shot when I said, "Well, obviously she's never done some of the things we have."

The folks next in line nearly collapsed laughing.

churchy chuckle

My aunt tells the story of a minister (who was also a relative) preaching on how bad habits become like a ball and chain. During the altar call he said, "Why not come and bring your balls to the altar?" You can imagine what that did to the invitation. That comment beat him to town. He stopped at a convenience store immediately after church and heard all about it from guys who hadn't been in church.

I love churchy chuckles.

light bulbs

How many Pentecostals does it take to change a light bulb? One, since his/her hands are in the air anyway.

How many Calvinists does it take to change a light bulb? None. God has predestined when the lights will be on.

How many Brethren does it take to change a light bulb? CHANGE?!!!

How many Charismatics does it take to change a light bulb? 10, one to change it and 9 others to pray against the spirit of darkness.

How many TV evangelists does it take to change a light bulb? One. But for the message of hope to continue to go forth, send in your donation today.

How many Roman Catholics does it take to change a light bulb? None: Candles only.

How many Amish does it take to change a light bulb? What's a light bulb?

How many Polygamous Mormons does it take to change a light bulb? Five. One man to change the bulb, and four wives to tell him how to do it.

How many Jehovah's Witnesses does it take to change a light bulb? Three. One to screw in the bulb, and two to knock on your door and ask you if you've seen the light!

How many Unitarians does it take to change a light bulb? We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, in your own journey, if you have found that light bulbs work for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your light bulb for the next Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.

And finally, how many psychiatrist does it take to change a light bulb? One, but it will be expensive, take a long time, and the light bulb has to want to change.


gordon sings joyfully

Today was the first Sunday of Advent and the first Sunday to sing Christmas carols. Gordon loves Christmas carols and always belts them out louder and more fervently than every one else. Our opening hymn was Joy to the World, a personal favorite of Gordon's. As usual, his powerful baritone voice rose above all the others.
Between vers060_60es one and two, the musicians played an instrumental interlude. Gordon of course was caught up in singing his heart out. The whole church waited for the usual direction as to when to begin singing. Everyone but Gordon. As the interlude began and all voices hushed, Gordon belted out, "Joy to," before realizing it was an instrumental moment. Chuckles abounded around us, the girls and me chuckling the most. Not easily embarrassed, Gordon smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

By this time, the interlude was finished, or so Gordon thought. Once again when it sounded as though the new stanza was beginning, Gordon rose to the occasion of leading out. Clearly, with much worshipful gusto, his voice rang out, "Joy to," before he realized again that this too was part of the interlude.

This time the girls and I moved beyond chuckles to all out laughing. Gordon is the only person I know who could do this without being humiliated. But again he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. After that he waited for others to start singing before he opened his mouth.

I, for one, was thankful.
(This picture is Gordon in his university days.)


Today was Communion Sunday. After communion there is always a benevolent offering taken to help people in the community who are in need.

An elderly woman and her upper middle-aged son were sitting behind me. As the offering plate made its way towards us, I heard the lady scrambling in her purse for her offering. Then I heard the son say, "Don't put that $20 in there. Give it to my benevolent fund."


Regarding "church," we've been through a rough year. There were lots of lies, deception, manipulation, and God only knows what else. We, along with many dear friends, have been burned. Gordon particularly has grown skeptical and cynical about church. He is a godly man, but is struggling to come to terms with all we've experienced the past year. You know the expression, once bitten, twice shy. Well Gordon won't be jumping into any churchy relationships anytime soon.

I'm really enjoying our new church and am ready start anew. The kids are loving it. Gordon is non-committal.

During our evening cup of tea, I asked him how he was feeling about church. With a heavy sigh he said, "Oh who knows? Who the hell trusts church anyway?"

Wanting some kind of assurance we were "on the same page," I asked what happens next. I was expecting a time line, a line in the sand, "If things go well, we'll commit in....."

What I got instead was this snippet into his psyche: "Oh someone will have us over for tea, then we'll sign on the dotted line and hand over the money."


My dear sweet Rachael went to youth group for the first time on Friday. She was so excited, yet innocently apprehensive.

When I picked her up, I could tell she was happy and at ease. As soon as she got in the van she announced, "Guess what? There's a girls' Bible study on Wednesday night."

Then on Saturday night I walked into her room as she laid out her clothes for church. She confirmed once again why I think we've found our new church home when she said, "I can't wait till tomorrow."

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

another gordon moment

Last night Gordon and I were discussing the recent near-demise of our church. A segment of the people in our church, mostly women, want to have a "closure meeting" where we all air our feelings about the recent abuse from, and subsequent dismissal of, the pastor. As these folks have persisted in requesting this type of meeting, the chairman of the board has been equally dismissive of the idea. He is a retired businessman and quite professional.

As Gordon and I hashed out the different ideas, Gordon concluded, "Yeah, to a business man, I guess the idea of a 'closure meeting' is pretty demented." Then he conducted his own mini-version of a 'closure meeting' in the business world: "We fired Joe. Anyone else here have a problem with Joe? Let's talk about how we feel about Joe."

bedroom update and turn signals

I've had a busy weekend. Hannah and Rachael went to Winter Camp. We had to fight the weather to get there, but we went and returned today safely.
(Hannah and Frodo, 2005)
Hannah and Frodo in Hannah's bedroomWhile they were gone, I gave Hannah's room an update. A friend had remarked that Hannah's room was babyish, and that didn't set well with me, so I made it more 9-year-oldish. The whole makeover cost $4. Isn't that amazing? I left the initial yellow paint but painted glow-in-the-dark pink, orange, lime green dots in varying sizes. Now one wall is polka dots. It's so cute and Hannah loves it. We need that bratty little friend to come over again. This time she will be green with envy. That project dominated my weekend.

Church was painful this morning. 36 people were there. 18 months ago we had at least 100, and it was vibrant. It's anything but vibrant now. Pastor preached about being in the wilderness and he might as well been speaking straight at me as that was how I felt. Church isn't what it was. I pray this wilderness period doesn't go on a long time. I was encouraged by the sermon, very encouraged.

On the drive home, Gordon got side-tracked in the middle of changing lanes. For some reason he kept driving in the one lane but his turn signal was on. I crankily said, "You need to pee or get off the pot." Just as crankily he retorted, "You need to be kind or shut-up."

church according to little house on the prairie

William Faulkner said something to the effect that he couldn't know his own thoughts clearly until he had written them. I can identify with that thought. Therefore I shall try to work through some of my thoughts, in writing.

My church is going through a difficult time. Our pastor (and good friend) resigned under less-than-ideal circumstances. Over the past couple years a number of wonderful people have left. What I use to consider a vibrant, alive church now seems dry, and even lonely.The spirit of love and concern for each other is very strong. I love these people. We are like a family. However, my own excitement for going to church is gone.

When I was in Arkansas, I saw little churches dotting the countryside. They were simple, white, old church buildings. They reminded me of my grandmother's church when I was growing up. I was impressed by their simplicity and wondered what their services were like.

I thought of the church services on Little House on the Prairie. By our standards today, church on Little House on the Prairie was dry and stale. But the essentials were there; praise, prayer, teaching/exhortation, and love and care for one another. There were no programs.

As I drove past these country churches, I knew they each one had their problems, but wondered if they were closer to the target than our more polished churches. (Certainly they are closer to the Little House on the Prairie model.) Perhaps we've complicated things with our programs and our technology.

This morning before others arrived, I sat in my church sanctuary praying. I felt discouraged and lonely. So many friends no longer attend church with us. Our music can be pretty rugged, whereas it used to be full and alive. There are few programs left that my family can participate in. As I thought about these things, I recalled again how they did church on Little House on the Prairie. I remembered the commitment of the people to be there; I remembered their participation in un-glamorous song; I remembered the sermons by the un-dynamic pastor.

Two times now, the Little House on the Prairie model has come to mind. Could it be that God was speaking to me? Henry Blackaby said that any encounter with truth is an encounter with God. Could God be leading me in these Little House on the Prairie memories?

This morning after my thoughts on Little House on the Prairie, I lowered my standard and tried to emulate the congregants on Little House on the Prairie. It helped. I prayed, I sang.

a good day

It's been a wonderful day. Our church service was uplifting. There was a spirit of unity, peace and anticipation. I have a really great church. As I sat there this morning, I looked at the faces of those around me. They seemed interested, involved, engaged. What a blessing. I read 1 Peter 2:9, "... you are a chosen people....This is so you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light." I saw in my faith community a chosen people who show the goodness of God. From my pastor I received this snippet of truth: "What you believe will be reflected in the things you do."

Lucy 2010 5 yoYesterday there was a large fire in Edmonton that took out three businesses. I could tell it was pretty close by, so the kids, Lucy and I started walking to see it. Those kinds of things are what set a small-town girl apart from a city girl. Not many city folk would have cared to walk that far to see it. But we walked 1 1/2 miles to see it firsthand. It was a cool experience. When I got there it was extra fun, because Gordon was there for work and he was directing traffic. I heard him long before I saw him. I said, "Hey, Daddy is somewhere over there." Sure enough. The girls wanted so badly to talk to him. I told them we couldn't bother him.

He never would have known we were there if he'd not heard Lucy. Lucy started barking and he turned to see. He said he never dreamed it would be Lucy, he just wanted to see the dog that barked like Lucy.

church bloopers

My Uncle Paul played the role of Sunday School Superintendent for a number of years. He always gave a small devotional at the beginning of his Superintendent ritual. One particular morning he said something that he has yet to live down. His family continues to pass the story on.

As he spoke briefly of the Apostle Paul, he asked the congregation, "Does anyone here know the meaning of the name Paul?" He waited patiently for a reply, but no one did. With a kind smile that defines him, he said, "Well I didn't either, but my wife told me." Slowly, precisely, and with his hallmark kind face, he continued, "Paul means 'small'. My wife says I'm small." My aunt gasped in shock at his faux pas and quickly looked around to see if others heard what she'd just heard. She saw a sea of teeth. Yes, everyone had just heard him say, "My wife says I'm small." He tried to recover, but the smiles didn't fade.

A couple years ago, a woman was giving announcements at my church when someone asked for donations of egg shells for a craft in children's church. Without realizing where she was headed, the announcer asked, "Do they need to be cleaned?" The second lady said that she did prefer them clean. The announcer turned to her microphone and said clearly, "Don't bring eggs to church unless your cracks are clean".

remember me

I've never really understood "The Lord's Supper". I grew up with it being such a sober experience that I always got the nervous giggles. The silence was deafening. I was amused by the production of folding the tablecloth that was atop the elements. The deacons removed the cloth and together folded it in the most sacred way as if it was the burial shroud itself. It seemed a contest of who could look the most pious; who could work up the greatest feeling of "Poor Jesus". Everything about it tickled me to the point of giggling (and snorting, no less) at the most inappropriate time.

I recall how quiet the sanctuary would be as the pastor told us to eat the bread (no yeast of course). Crunch, crunch, crunch. It was too much. Inevitably, I'd start to snort and giggle. I couldn't understand how everyone kept such a straight and serious face when something so funny was happening. I would pull myself together in time to hear the pastor drone on about the blood of Jesus, and then once again the silence would fall. I looked down in effort to look truly affected by the seriousness of the moment. But it didn't work. Since I found such amusement in the deathly serious faces all around me, I always sneaked a peek and got tickled again. Then we partook, "ulk, ulp, ulk, ulp....." Oh my goodness, I would just about lose it every time.

The giggles were always a part of the Lord's Supper for me. One particular night, my mom and sister shared my giggles. My mom often smiled during the Lord's Supper because she too saw the funny side of it. But this night she was more than smiling, she was laughing. And then, of all things, the pastor called on her to pray. We tried our darndest to be reverent, without success. As Mama prayed, Stacie stood beside her whispering, "Say Amen. Just say Amen".

All that background was to say, I've never "got" communion. I didn't doubt we were supposed to do it, but I never really understood the significance. But this morning, I think I started to get a clearer understanding. I'm not through developing it, but I know something clicked.

I realized that by taking communion, we are welcoming Jesus once again into our lives. Instead of thinking "Poor Jesus, look what he went through because of how bad I am," my thoughts should be more like an active re-acquaintance with Jesus. "Remember Me," he said. "Remember how I loved, remember my humility, remember what I said, remember how I loved the children, remember what I taught,...."

By taking the elements that represent the body and blood of Jesus, I am saying that I need his very being to be my sustenance. When I receive him as my sustenance, I will be equipped to love like him, be meek like him, see what is important just like he saw the important. The better "I remember him," the better I understand what my life is about. My life is about being like him.

good friday service

Our Good Friday service wasn't as somber as it's been in the past. Pastor Shaun is very gifted with the ability to set a worshipful tone and today was no different. Before the service the power point projected a picture of three crosses. The sky behind them looked like a phenomenal sunset of oranges, pinks and purples. I was reminded that even in death, "The heavens declare the glory of God." (Ps. 19)

A homemade rough wooden cross stood predominantly on the stage. On it was a lit candle, a draping of purple cloth and a barbed wire wreath (crown). In front of the cross, the same purple cloth weaved among twelve candles symbolizing the twelve disciples. As the scriptures were read of his followers betrayal, the candles were extinguished one by one. Finally all that was left was the candle on the cross. A powerful reminder of Jesus' aloneness in his death. Our last scripture reading was of course of Jesus dying. As the words, "and he breathed his last" were read, the last candle was extinguished. It was a poignant moment.

For communion there was only one cup of juice and we went forward to partake, dipping the bread in the juice. "The flesh and blood of Jesus sustains us. Take unto you the death of Christ," we were told. Afterward, we left the sanctuary without saying goodbye to our friends or waiting for the others to finish. I appreciate the seriousness of our Good Friday service.

When we left we brought Ron home with us. Ron is our homeless friend. We bring him to our house once a week for a shower, lunch, and a nap. He gives me his laundry and puts on clean clothes that I've washed for him during the week. I cannot say that I trust Ron. He could very well rob us blind. I hope he doesn't, but I remind myself that he could. I've read of desert fathers who were robbed and they chased down their robbers and said, "Look, you missed this and it's the most valuable thing I have." I desire to be that kind of person. I'm far from it. But I think it's a noble goal. I want to hold material goods with an open hand, not a clinched fist. Today I learned that Ron was once married. His wife committed suicide in 1993. Another reminder that everyone has a story to tell.

good friday

It's 6:30 on Good Friday. Before I moved to Canada I had never observed Good Friday in any way. It was just another day of the year. Since moving here, I've much appreciated that Christians and churches honor the day. We will go to our church service later in the morning. Pastor Shaun is extraordinarily gifted in the way he prepares for these things. I have never known a pastor who "prepares" the sanctuary for worship. But our pastor does. He sets the tone for worship and it truly makes a difference for me.

Our Good Friday service is of an incredibly somber tone. Whereas there is usually music playing when we enter the sanctuary, today, most likely, we will enter a dark quiet sanctuary with candles lit near the front. The purple cloth that has been on the cross through Lent (another season I never observed before moving here) will be replaced with a black cloth. When we sing, if we sing, our songs will be mournful; if we sing songs of the cross and Jesus dying, we will NOT sing the last verses of his resurrection. Today's service is intentionally void of hope, resurrection, joy. When we leave the dark sanctuary we will be acutely aware, even if minimally, of the disciples and followers of Jesus' despair on that first Good Friday. I've observed over the past several years that even after leaving the sanctuary, people hardly speak to one another in the foyer. There is such a somber atmosphere that it feels incredibly out of place to say, "You wanna go for burgers?"

People usually avoid all niceties. We simply go home after the service, hardly even saying hello to our friends. Over the next day and a half, we will remember the sorrow of the early days when the followers of Jesus were without hope. Their Master who was supposed to save them from oppression had died. He turned out to be helplessly void of all power. We contemplate their despair.

But on Easter Morning our service will be full of life. There will be bouquets of fresh flowers everywhere. JESUS IS ALIVE will be the joyful theme. It is far beyond any Easter I experienced in my life prior to Canada.

Deborah's Easter party at school was sweet. My girls are in a private Adventist school. It's a wonderful school and I'm so thankful we are able to send them there. It's about a 1 1/2 blocks from our house so that is remarkably convenient. When I got there, the kindergartners were having a quiet communion service. They had little pieces of pita bread and little glasses of grape juice. The teacher read the Scriptures and explained why adults take communion. It was cute to see these little five year olds drink "the wine" and eat the bread.

After communion, all the children wanted to know if it was true that Deborah got to pick out my clothes, shoes, earrings, etc..... Evidently she was so excited that I was coming to her party that she even told them she "dressed me". They were all kind of puzzled. I don't think they believed Deborah when she told them, so they wanted to know. I was proud to vindicate my sweet Deborah.

The girls in Deborah's class adore me. They argue over who sits next to me and try to get on my lap. In another setting I'd love to have them on my lap, but Ms Long is a bit harsh and I'm afraid she's inclined to think that five year olds are too big for laps. However, they climb on my lap, me feeling any minute we will be rebuked; them for being on my laps, me for treating kindergartners like babies. The girls would intentionally lose in Musical Chairs to run over to me. When the music stopped they would yell at each other, "I was at Deborah's mom first." Once there were three empty chairs and I had four girls arguing to stay with me. Again, I was afraid of a rebuke from the teacher. Fortunately it never came.