From the Mouth of Babes

Once upon a dream, I was talking with my friends saying good-bye to them, and a neighbor offered to take me home, since they were going my way. I hopped in their car grateful for the ride, only to realize the catch was I had to attend church services with them. The walk was a good six miles and I thought about hitting the road, but I decided to see how this church differed from the one I attended. I was in for a shock.

Not so much happened before or during services, I pretty much stayed to myself. The sermon was the usual sermon coming from the lectern, as I sat in one of the pews with my arms folded. It was after that I received a lifetime full of wisdom.

The church was a huge church with the services held in the middle of this great building. There were rooms all around the hall. To the front left of the stage was the classroom held for all the Sunday school children. To the front right of the stage was a larger room for all the priests and elders to gather to pray and meet before and after the services. In the back of the hall to the left was the area by which we entered the church. This was a small foyer that led to a hall where the dinners were provided after the message had been given. This is also when all the children were dismissed for classes, and the priests to council.

I noticed one small lady around her eighties dressed in a soft mauve gown wandering around the crowd as if she was looking for something. Every so often she would stop and ask somebody a question and frowned as if they couldn’t help her. I recognized her as the woman who had earlier come before the crowd and gave a testimony how God used her to fulfill an experience that turned into a great mission for her. As she neared where I was standing I finally heard what she was asking the people, for she stopped a lady on her way toward the table to lay down a casserole dish.

“I was wondering if you could tell me how the speech I gave was.” Said the old woman.

“Frankly,” said the woman who appeared to be in her thirties, “I thought it lacked taste. I mean you really could have done a better job if you had tried.”

I was appalled! This woman I thought had done a beautiful job in expressing how she felt and how moved she was in how God worked in her life. The old woman frowned and walked off again. I felt it was my duty to inform her that unlike the rest of her patrons I enjoyed her speech and how grateful I was for her boldness to get up in front of the crowd and be willing to share a part of her life.

I walked toward her as she started to walk toward me, right past me. I stopped her and said, “ You know I couldn’t help overhearing what this other woman has told you, and I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed you getting up there to share with us your experience.”

Immediately the woman’s visage brightened. She stood a little taller, her eyes were a little brighter, and her smile was a little bigger. “Thank you, my dear sweet child.” She said. “Are you from around here?”

“No.” I told her. “Actually, I’m new here. I’ve never attended before, but—“

“Oh.” She said and patted me on the arm. “Well, thanks anyway.” She frowned as if what I said meant nothing to her. She stooped over once again looking distressed that no one had found her worthy.

I was confused. Why had I meant nothing to her? Why was it that because I was new, a stranger, what I said had no worth or meaning?

I walked toward the front of the table where the food had been laid out, and leaned against the wall. Others were starting to crowd toward the delicious smells emanating from the many delectable dishes spread out over the table. Others began getting their napkins and forks and digging into what their favorites might have been, when a gentleman stopped and asked me something. I was still confused by the conversation I had moments before, so I did not catch what he had said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Quite right.” He said. “I said, since you are not seeming to get in line, I’m sure you won’t care if the rest of us just jump in front of you.” Not waiting for my answer he just started gathering up his silverware and the line moved in front of me. Before I knew it I was standing in the back of the line. Feeling as the old woman had earlier, alone and confused, I stepped toward the opening doors and looked out at the road. Here was my chance to walk away. So why didn’t I? I felt very uncomfortable and awkward, and decided I needed some place to make me feel at ease. This was a church, God’s holy place, why had I felt so condemned by these people? I looked into the hall. The place was empty. I saw a piano sitting in the corner and decided to play.

My footsteps were soft on the red worn carpet as I marched down the left aisle toward the front of the stage. I touched the upright scuffed piano as if it was my only friend. I sat down on the bench, placed my fingers over the keys, and softly, but assuredly, began playing a comforting tune.

The people in the back could not hear me for they were too busy eating and talking and dishes clanging, which is the way I preferred it. I closed my eyes in the song that spoke volumes in my mind. I would say I was there for at least five minutes before I noticed some of the priests and elders coming from the back room. Assuming they were done with their meeting and gathering together to go eat, I kept playing, consoling my thoughts and emotions as I went.

However, after a few short minutes I noticed they were still stuck in that corner talking among themselves. I began to consider that maybe I was too loud for them and played a little softer. When I did this I overheard what they were saying.

“Someone needs to go tell her.” One short man said to another.

“Doesn’t she realize we’re trying to have a meeting in there!” Spoke another priest in the back of the crowd.

“Well, who’s going to tell her. You?”

“I can’t believe she’d be so inconsiderate as to not realize that this is the time for us priests to pray and gather.”

“Where is she from? Who brought her here? And who is going to stop this?” said a tall thin man who robes seem to hang off his shoulders.

As they were murmuring I thought about stopping, but something inside me said to play on. If they wanted me to stop they would come over and ask me. One gentleman priest came from the back room and walked out in front of the others and came toward me. I thought, “well here it goes, it was good while it lasted.” But he stopped when he reached toward the center pew and sat down.

“You see what he’s doing? He’s waiting for her to stop. The audacity she has to keep playing.” Said the black cloud of priests still fidgeting over in the corner.

Finally moved to action, the tall thin priest made his way from the clinging comfort of his friends toward the far end of the stage where I was playing and humming to myself.

“Excuse me, miss,” said the thin pale man, “but, it would be appreciated if you could save your playing for another time. We were trying to pray in there, and. . .well. . .you can play next week. Now is not an appropriate time. But thank you for being so enthusiastic with your talent.” Then as quickly as he rode over he glided back to the little corner that he had come from, his robes slightly dragging on the floor as he went.

I felt not so chided. After all, he did put it nicely, though it took long enough to find someone to tell me to stop. I took my hands off the keys and placed them in my lap. I sighed staring down at the keys and pretty much made up my mind that this is where I was going to ask my neighbors either to take me home or I was walking. I pulled down the old wooden cover over the piano and turned around on the bench and stood up.

“Why did you stop?” said someone whom I didn’t see. “Why did you stop playing?” asked the voice again.

I looked around and noticed it was coming from the man who had quietly sat down in the front pew. Upon further inspection, I realized it was the main messenger who had given services that day.

“I was afraid that I was disturbing you, and one of your fellow leaders asked me to stop.” I replied.

The tall lanky man slowly walked over to announce to the priest that it was okay to go back to their meeting now, satisfied that it was he who had the boldness to step in front of the other elders.

“Why did you tell this young lady, who was playing beautifully, to stop?” asked the priest still sitting down.

The older man standing just looked around himself as if he was looking to whom he was speaking. He lifted his hands limply toward his chest as if shocked to suggest it was him. Then as quickly as he paused, he leaned over to the left side of the sitting priest, resting his hand on the back of the pew and said with a low voice, “I thought it was best since it was so distracting to our meeting. But now I have resolved the problem and we are ready to listen to you once more.” Then looking for support on this one, he stood up and waved his hands toward the other priests still huddled in the corner as if ready to run at the first sign of trouble. Whether or not he was extending his hand toward the door to wish the the head priest first speed back toward the meeting room or whether he was showing that his fellow priests were with him on this decision, I’m not sure. But either way, the head priest looked toward the door and saw all of the priests nodding up and down as if they were puppets on a string.

“I see.” And that was all he said for a moment.

I wasn’t sure whether to walk away or stay, so I just stood there waiting for the head priest to make the first move. Calmly he turned to look at me and extended his hand toward the piano, and said, “Please, have a seat, and play for us.”

I wasn’t sure what to do, so again I just stood there.

The pale man leaned over his shoulder once more to interrupt, but before he could say anything, the older man peered toward the black cloud and said, “Please our meeting can wait, have a seat and let’s listen to this beautiful music. It’s not often we can hear something so sweet on God’s holy Sabbath. You too, Jeremiah,” he said looking at the priest standing in front of him. “Let’s enjoy this lady’s company. I have noticed she is a stranger in our church and she has offered to play for us, so let us be kind and embrace her kindness.” Then again he looked at me where I had not moved an inch from my position, and smiled. “What is your name, my dear?” he asked.

“Amie.” I blurted out.

“Amie, won’t you please play for us?”

“Okay.” I said. Now I had no idea what to do. I sat back down at the piano, lifted the lid, and stared at the keys. Before I had just played to console my feelings, comforted by the fact no one was listening. Now this. What should I play? I thought. But something inside me said, “You’ll find the movement.” And as I had done before, I placed my hands on the keys, and began playing as serenely as if I had never stopped, somehow comforted now by the smile this gentleman had given me.

After a while I had heard a shuffling of footsteps behind me. The members in the back of the hall, where they were eating, had finished their dinner and began congregating back into the sanctuary. Either that, or they noticed through the doors that the priests were finished. One by one they began entering the church and noticed someone playing at the piano, which would be me, and one by one they sat down as the other priests had done. Before long, I heard them commenting among themselves.

“She plays so gorgeously.” One woman said.

“I wonder what the name of that song is?” said another.

“Who is she, anyway? Do any of you know her?”

“Why hasn’t she played for us before?” a gentleman’s voice questioned.

“Is she trying to take over Eliza’s job?” voiced an older lady.

“How come we weren’t told that they were going to do this? How come the priests get to hear this, and we don’t?” said another.

“Perhaps, dear, this is part of their meeting and we have interrupted. Maybe we should leave.”

But before anyone could be convinced of this latter notion, I had ended the song. I paused before starting another.

“Excuse me, dear.” Said an older lady I overheard just a few minutes earlier. “What was that that you were playing?”

I turned around to view the crowd. There sat the whole church body staring at me intently.

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I just made it up.”

“Just made it up?” she said confused. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Oh, Eliza.” The one sitting next to her said. “Just because you don’t play it doesn’t mean it’s not pretty. And just because it may not have been titled doesn’t mean it’s not a song now.”

“What is the meaning of you playing like this?” said another woman from the center aisle of pews. “I would think you would have figured out we eat while the ministers are in session. Now, for you to play a no name whatever, do you not realize even the children become distracted very easily?”

“I’m sorry; I was not aware I was causing such a disturbance. I believed it was adding to the grace of these holy walls.”

“Yes, well, services are over, and I for one need to make sure dinner is handled properly.”

I looked over at the minister as to what I should do, as he spoke without turning around to face the crowd, “If you all are so concerned about the servicing of your stomachs, why did you follow the music and sit in the pews? Did you not find it inspiring?”

“Well, I said it was gorgeous, so he’s not talking to me.” The gentleman who had spoken earlier consoled himself.

Then Jeremiah’s wife, spouse to the elder who had previously tried to usher me out, stood up and said, “Frankly, minister, I would have thought you of all people would be more concerned with your prayers than the sound of this woman playing. Why stop when some of us has a schedule we must attend?”

As I watched all the people murmuring among themselves, the woman who had dismissed me earlier stood up. What was she going to add to the conversation that didn’t already plainly tell me that I was not welcome at the piano or even in their House of Worship. It was ironic really; I didn’t want to be there in the first place and now all I wanted to do was stay. Speaking of which, where was the neighbors I came with? I looked among the crowd and saw them no where. Not that I could blame them.

“I have you know she is a stranger among us. She admitted it to me in the corridor. Don’t we have a policy or some sort of doctrine that she must counsel before she can be considered responsible to handle our equipment?”

It figures that’s the only thing she’d remember about the conversation, I thought. I told the minister it was okay as I stood up from the piano to leave. What I didn’t expect was the next question he asked.

“Why did you sit down to play?” he asked.

I froze in my tracks. My back was too him as I looked out the windows and saw all the cars parked in their nice neat rows. The wind blew the leaves between the vehicles as I considered what was the best answer to give him. I didn’t really want to turn around and face him, but he was the only kind individual among them who had greeted me with any warmth. I turned around as I heard some whispering, yet when I saw the minister’s face a voice in my head said to just speak how I felt. So I did.

“Dear Minister,” I began. As I walked toward him past the piano to the center of the stage. I oddly felt if I was about to give my own testimony.

“She’s trying to get on his good side.” Some said.

“She’s going to butter.” Another said.

“Would you be quiet, I’m hungry.” A man elbowed his wife in the ribs.

As I cornered the left aisle of pews I looked at the man and his wife, and realized that the only person’s opinion I truly cared about was the minister’s. For a moment, in my mind, everyone else had disappeared, and it was just him and me. I sat down on the pew next to him. He smiled.

“This is a beautiful place to worship God.” I replied. “Often when I can’t express in words what I want to say, I play it instead. I find I can be freer in my expression. It is true I am a stranger among your people here, but I meant no harm. You see, it is truly a blessing the surroundings you have to worship in. The architecture of the walls, the stain glass design of the arched windows, the velvet carpet you have lied down on the floors, the pews by which you all gather together as one entity create such an incredible sacred space. Even the acoustics here are amazing the way they lift up all the voices to our Heavenly Father. I didn’t want to come here today; I confess. I came with some neighbors. They told me it was the only way I was going to get a ride home and my house is several miles away. Through the sermon I sat with my arms folded, even though, I thought the sermon was good. I sang the hymns I knew softly. Even afterwards, I shied in the corner than to fellowship with others. I expected them to come to me, after all they would, if they called themselves Christians. What I missed, as I looked into the empty sanctuary while others were getting into line to eat, was that this was a room of worship, and I had not treated it as such. I was a voice in a choir that refused to let the Holy Spirit come in. I did this because it was not the church I attended, and I just couldn’t see how anyone else could favor God righteously like my church could. I didn’t want to leave with that understanding. So while everyone else was busy, I thought I would offer a prayer up to my Lord in repentance and in thanksgiving that I had the opportunity to make things right. It was very fulfilling for me. This is why I sat down to play.”

“Heathen!” said the short stubby elder under his breath.

“Self-righteous that one is!” said a female in the far right corner to the person next to her.

“Well, I want to know who her neighbors are.” Said another.

“She has no business here, she needs to leave.” One deacon said to the group of ministers with whom he was sitting. He stood.

The deacon was to the minister’s back, yet he didn’t have to turn to hear him rustle behind him or to say, “Sit down, Reuben.” The deacon stared at the minister’s back appalled, but he sat back down. I wondered why such a kind man and teacher seemed to have no effect on his congregation? To me, his affection was contagious.

“And now how do you feel? Are you still glad with your decision, though now you face this opposition?” the minister asked gently.

“Begging your pardon, minister,” I said, “but I did not play for them or for you. I certainly didn’t mean to cause such conflict but my worship has never been a debatable question. I would have stopped, but when I was encouraged to keep playing I did so in celebration of the old tradition of incense. Like the wind whirling around outside, I thought prayer and praise could swell to the top of these timbers. I had not anticipated such opposite views, but no, I do not regret my decision.” I fixed my eyes onto his, my blue to what seemed to be his transparent crystal hazel eyes. They were hypnotizing. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed them up until now.

“Minister, don’t you think this has gone on far enough?” a gentleman in the back row stood up to speak.

“Quite right. Quite right.” The others raised their voices looking at the gentleman with approving nods as their newly appointed spokesperson.

“Yes, it has.” He replied in answer to them. He wavered not his eyes at me as he held out his hand. “Please, “ he flourished his hand toward the piano. “The meeting is adjourned for today.” The minister spoke to the others. “We must not let our food go to waste, so you may go and gather your plates. But those who would like to continue and hear this charming woman play, we’d ask that you do so quietly.”

As if in character, many began to do the opposite, moving about noisily. To which he replied, “Although I wonder why you came and sat in the first place? Did not the music stir your souls? Did not her swaying move you to sway? Did not her prayerful eyes lift your prayers from your mouth? Why do you not embrace the love she extends so freely, although your heart has longed for and commanded your feet to follow?” Some stopped in their steps, the minister’s words tugging at their conscience. Others murmured and continued to the aroma of their dinner, and still a few remained in their pews. The room was silent except for the clanging of silverware against the dishes in the next room.

I stood and once again curtsied in front of the keys as I positioned my sitting. I looked toward the minister who, still sitting in the center front pew, nodded his head in agreement to begin. I looked at the others who just stared back at me. It was harder and harder to play with so much tension in the air, but as I looked up to the cross of Jesus my fingers bowed in humility and began dancing to the never-ending book of thoughts in my head. For an instant I was surprised that my fingers had started as if they were of their own accord, but then I realized God was acting out a more important scene around me, and I was to be the centerpiece of this table. I was the topic of conversation, but the main course was about to be presented.

As if on cue, the door to the children’s classroom swung open. Like a flutter of birds off a rooftop, the children came running and skipping out. Their little ruffled and lace dresses and clip-on ties blowing like windsocks in the air. In each of their hands they held a piece of construction paper with some sort of design, the artistry of their lesson. They swarmed around the piano and behind me as a river would divide flowing around a boulder. Some of the children went to their parents who took them by the hand, scolding them for running, or sat them on their laps, but most of the children gathered around the minister and sat with him on the front pew. It was amusing to see eight or nine little children squirming their way onto the cushions, folding out their clothes, and elbowing one another to get the most comfortable position.

Some of the parents horrified that they should be bothering the minister and not behaving themselves quickly began to shuffle toward the stage to reclaim their kids. “Michael!” “Sandra!” “Billy!” “Tisha!” “Chandra!” A chorus of names filled the room.

A few of the parents picked them up in their arms, but the children seemed oblivious to what they had done, instead they were trying to show their Mommy or Daddy the picture they had created in class. The parents, however, were preoccupied with their embarrassment and duty to care about their child’s creation at that moment. “That’s nice dear we’ll look at it afterwards.” Or “I don’t care about that now, how many times have I told you not to bother the nice minister?”

Even while playing my music I could hear the children’s hearts sink in disappointment.

“Please.” Said the minister. “Do not usher them away. Let them sit with me.” Before the parents could decide, the children squirmed their way out of their arms, ran toward the front, and plopped themselves back onto the cushions. With the go ahead, the other children raced to the front eager to join the rest. When the pew was completely full the rest sat on the stage still just as content.

I smiled as I finished one song and began another. The teachers came walking out of the back room surprised as to what everyone was doing in the sanctuary and who was I to be playing? They looked at each other in wonderment as if they were asking the other if they had missed something on the schedule? The parents scooted themselves back into their rows and sat down while the children were buzzing in the front with their usual energy. The scene in front of the piano reminded me of the old lady who feeds the birds in the park on the corner of the street. The pigeons would sit on her hat and around her feet and over her shoulder and she would feed them from her faded apron and smile as if she was the happiest and at home when among them.

“So what did you learn today?” asked the minister in genuine curiosity. The kids gathered around him and showed their pictures to him. His face shone with pride as if they were his own. Some of them bent over and whispered something into his ear and he whispered something back into theirs. They shied a quick glance at me and turned back to him. His whole countenance lit up and assured them with a nod.

I became ever-increasingly intrigued.

They put one foot in front of the other as if to put their whole thought into what they were doing as three little children walked my way. Once they reached the piano they divided into on either side. They asked if they could play, and one little girl on my left, who couldn’t be more than two, asked if she could sit on my lap.

I gathered her up in my arms and sat her on my lap. I told them we were all going to play a song together, but we had to listen to what I was going to say. I explained to the little boy still on my left, who was earlier referred to as Billy, that on the low chords he was to hit these two notes when I said okay. Chandra, who was on my right, I told her that she needed to play these three notes in succession, which meant when I said okay she would start and not stop until the end of the song. I asked the little girl on my lap if she wanted to play, but she shook her head furiously. When I counted to three I nodded my head to Chandra who began playing her three notes as I began to play my own tune in the center of the keys. Billy at first began to play the notes I picked out for him whenever I nodded, but he soon got the rhythm and continued without my signal. I was even more overwhelmed with the fluidity of the song than I expected. I looked up at the minister and over at the parents who were all lit up like a Christmas tree. The other children, like toys, seemed to wind up and waddle their way to the piano too, in fascination.

The little girl on my lap began to squirm and say, “Me play! Me play!” I smiled and ended the song. Billy and Chandra started clapping at themselves and begged for more. I, again, instructed Billy and Chandra on their parts and then the told the little girl she should hit this center note which was called “G” when I said now. However, once we started she was so excited she began to hit it out of rhythm, speeding to her own tempo.

I stopped the song. I bent over and asked, “What is your name?” but she wouldn’t answer she kept exclaiming, “Me play! Me play!” I smiled and Billy told me her name was Kaylie. “Well, this time we’re going to let Kaylie play and we will follow her.” Though some of the adults cautioned me I assured them it would be all right. So Kaylie playing the only note she knew began to sing and play in unison, “G! G! G! G! G!” The parents began to giggle and the rest of us joined in key and followed her lead.

At the end when everyone in the sanctuary was clapping I thought it was the most beautiful song I had ever played. Yet, I also found it amazing that these loving and care-free children belonged to such cynical parents. When the adults could do nothing but exclaim my intrusion, the little ones joined in and celebrated. Even around the minister the tiny faces electrified when others didn’t seem to understand him. Somehow the people began to forget about their hunger and the children their shyness. The teachers stood up and walked to the front of the stage as if their solo performances were next and began to gather the children into a group.

“Why don’t we show them what we learned today?” the teacher encouraged. She lifted her hands as a conductor would motion to the choir to lift their sheet music. The kids raised their projects high over their head. Some as far as their elbows would bend. Still others, like a blinking signal light, would show it to the families and then they’d turn it around and view it for themselves as if they had never seen it before and then back again.

The minister turned in his seat to speak to the people. “In Matthew, Jesus Christ encourages us to become as little children or we shall by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. I wonder if any of us understands what that truly means. I have not been with you but a few short weeks, and notice how the children gathered around my feet and welcomed this stranger with open arms. How much more have some placed qualifications and investigations? Is Jesus not speaking of the love and vulnerability and the trusting nature of a child? Does he not also refer to their ability to see things without the clouded view of painful experiences? The Lord knows you hurt. He does. But until you can let go of the bitterness and skepticism that you carry with you, you’ll never be able to truly worship or grow, or prosper like this stranger and your children already know. Do not forget what else has been written for you, ‘And whosoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.’”

As I was listening to the minister’s words I stood up from the piano and sat down in the front left pew to get a better look at the children’s handiwork. Their pictures were the pictures of little kids, the colors not really creating any form but somehow charming anyway. Then it hit me. An extraordinary puzzle lied before my eyes. As the minister was finishing, I stood up and began to rearrange the children. The teachers were a bit confused, but were too stunned to shoo me away. Once I placed them in their proper places I stepped back in awe and satisfaction. I sat back not taking my eye off the masterpiece that had to have only been created by the Master’s hand. The people gasped and I looked at the minister for his impression and he smiled in contentment.

The display before us took the pictures of every little child and created a singular uniting image - the peace symbol with a dove soaring through it.

The parents asked the teachers, “Did you show them that?” But they stood as dumbfounded as the rest of us.

Before the shock could ease the dove flapped its wings and jumped out of the picture soaring above our heads.

It was some sort of amazing daydream we were all witnessing, and yet, it was real. We were glued to our seats. When I turned to look at the minister, he was gone. I jerked my face back up to the bird and in its eyes were the same color transparent crystal hazels that I had noticed before. I heard the children giggling and humming and pointing at the bird. The dove hovered over us for a few minutes then flew out of the sanctuary and out the door.

Once upon a dream soon faded into sleep and sleep soon came to morning. As I stretched and recalled my dreams, the intensity of this one shot back into my mind. Trying to figure what the little children were humming I walked into the next room and tried to pick it out on the piano. Before it registered in my head I began singing . . .

“Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”