The Case of the Rotting Pumpkin

About a month ago, I came to work and saw that a pumpkin had been decorated to look like a face. It looked like a Mr. Potato Head--lips, ears, nose, and a hat. It was really very cute but it was something that I did not make. I assumed that it was something that CB had decorated at some event and left on the table. I didn't think much of it over the last month, other than it was a cute harvest addition to our information table.

Today, Robby and I are moving some things around and notice that some papers look like they've had coffee spilled all over them. I then notice the pumpkin head is looking a little droopy. When I go to move it, the whole thing squishes in my hand like a sponge.

Here's the part where you go, "that's disgusting."

After we stop laughing/choking/crying, we go to let CB know that her pumpkin has died. To which she responds, "that's not mine, I thought you made it!" Call Nancy Drew, we've got a mystery to solve!

My Love/Hate Relationship with Mailboxes

When you're a kid, when you get mail it's usually a card for some great holiday like birthdays, Easter, or Christmas. This card usually contains money.

Now, when I go to the mailbox, my cards don't contain money. It asks for my money. I get mail every day--mostly junk, bills, more bills, and well.. more bills. It's a broke life for the Smallings. I dread getting the mail because I have to drive to my mailbox, get out of my car, take my key, unlock the box, get my mail, and then open. It makes me tired and I avoid it at all costs.

A couple of days ago I went to the mailbox and began the routine of shuffling through the contents--bills, junk, and then there was a card. With my address written in child-like scribble and when I opened it, I realized it was a handmade card from one of my kids at church. For your viewing pleasure I have included the inside:

Dear Nikki,

Thank you for letting me have a part in the play. I was worried that I wouldn't get a part. I like that you teach us now. Thank you for being my friend.

From,

Kaitlyn

The best part was the drawn picture that was included--a little girl holding the hand of a big girl walking down the street with balloons on all sides. This card now resides in a prized place on our kitchen bar. I think I'll keep this forever.

Arrrrgh

Part of my job requires that I do randomly awesome things. Tonight was no exception, as I ran around in a pirate costume for 2 hours telling pirate jokes to any bloke who would stop to listen. The other part of my job includes me being a rock star. Last week, Allen asked me, "Are you in a band?" to which my little heart fluttered as I responded with how I've always wanted to be a rock star but never got my break.

Let's face it. I'm not really a rock star. Or a pirate. I'm just a girl who desperately wants to be both of these things. And somehow I managed to stumble into a job where all of my wildest dreams have come true. At least for tonight.

The Case for Kids

Our desire is to reach these kids with entertaining, fun, relevant messages. We’re fighting to win a generation that is over-stimulated, overwhelmed, and under attack. Marketing campaigns are designed to reach kids; television channels like Disney and Nickelodeon can sustain themselves with shows about preteens and tweens; and the High School Musical franchise has set the standard for what our kids are expecting from everyone else. Somehow we have to tap into that mentality and do a bait-and-switch with the messages. If our Worship Teams sound like Miley Cyrus but sing about the redemptive power of Jesus Christ; if our room looked like the set of iCarly but centered its design around the 3 Basic Truths, we would be getting somewhere.

But shouldn't the message be more important than what it looks like?

Well sure. But how often are you going to go into a restaurant that is dingy and falling apart? It doesn't matter how good the food is, people will not walk through the doors to find out. The Church is dealing with this same identity-crisis: the message is amazing, the image is lacking. Let's look at my cable channels for example. On any given day I can flip through at least 45 channels that have their own specific identity--Lifetime uses a lot of colors that are pleasing to the female eye, Spike uses a little bit of an edgier image that reminds me of a construction site... all these things subconciously tell the viewer, "This is where you belong."

Then there's the one channel that is a Christian TV channel--it features commercials by churches that look like something out of 1987. The discussion panel sets look like the inside of a Goodwill. I'm watching these channels wondering, "who is really going to listen to what's going on if they are so distracted by what it looks like?" That is not a channel that screams out to 23 year old me, "This is where you belong." But I'm a Christian, so immediately I feel like I need to support this channel, but I can't. It's boring.

But Christianity is not boring, our messages are not boring, we're not even a boring group! We're individuals who can design, dream, build, and create with the best of them. But how am I going to communicate that to someone who, when they hear the words "Children's Ministry" immediately think of flannel boards, goldfish snack crackers, and the song, Father Abraham? The Church needs a makeover. Not a makeover that compromises the message of Jesus Christ, but a makeover that encourages the Seeker to give us a second chance. A makeover that will appeal to the overstimulated masses. A makeover that makes it okay for a messy-heart to belong? A makeover that screams, "This is where you belong."