Yesterday evening the youth group gathered for an evening of planning and fun. We planned the Easter Sunrise Service. I went in with the Easter story from the Gospel of John and asked the kids to reflect on the reactions of Mary Magdalene, Simon Peter, and the Beloved Disciple (now nicknamed BD by the kids). I asked them which one they identified with, and what they thought they were feeling. I wrote down notes, planning to turn their ideas into something we could use later. But three of the kids volunteered to be Mary, Peter, and BD for the service, and they wanted to write a conversation between the three of them immediately. I was impressed.
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The four of us went upstairs to the office, and the rest of the group played games with Advisor while we all waited for the pizza to arrive. Mary, Peter, and BD created a short skit in contemporary teenage language. They were really excited about it and into it. I was impressed with their ideas and the ownership they took of the process. I was their scribe, typing things into the computer.
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Downstairs Daughter was going into pathetic mode. Advisor ignored her. She demanded attention from Advisor, telling her she didn't feel good. Advisor looked at her blood sugar and said, "Well that's good. You can have some pizza when it gets here." When the mom brought the pizza from town, we went back downstairs to join the group. Daughter tried to engage me in how sick she was, but I wouldn't engage. She could only eat part of one piece of pizza because she felt so bad. Not my problem. She ended up going upstairs and hiding in the women's restroom for the next 3 hours. One of the kids went upstairs to invite her to come back down (after asking my permission), but she refused. I checked once to make sure she hadn't come home.
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The rest of us had a good time. They got me on the drums on Rock Band, and my score wasn't very good. One of the boys told me it was okay, his first score had been worse, and he was in band!
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Daughter didn't wet the bed last night. She's done pretty well today, especially considering we put Cat down. Maybe by ignoring the behavior and refusing to offer sympathy, we're beginning to short circuit it. I certainly hope that is the case.
3 comments:
I'm sorry about cat. It's sad that our pet don't live as long as we do.
As for contemporary teenage language to describe the resurrection, I imagine it going something like this:
"Dude, He's, like, not in the tomb."
Thanks for your sympathy. Sister went through the list of dead pets with Daughter yesterday, and assured her Cat would have fun with them. I'm not going to examine the theology too closely....
Teen language on the resurrection:
Whatever—but hey, who is telling the story here? I mean, as if it wasn’t enough that they crucified him, they’d gone and stolen his body. Talk about ridiculous.
So sorry about Cat. These losses are so sad and so real for animal lovers. Remember, you supported him in his final illness and gave him the gift of letting him go.
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