Tiki Room Church

Our congregation's Wednesday night services begin with a little devo-ette in the auditorium (kind of like homeroom, if you will, to get everyone caught up on announcements, etc.) and then everyone breaks off into classes. Except that in the summer there isn't a lot of choice. They usually put all the adults into one class and call it a "summer series," which is kind of a euphemism for "we've got so many folks on vacation we don't have enough people to teach a class," I believe.

This summer we have a guy showing slides from Israel doing lessons on the Holy Land. I've only been in the class once, however, because the rest of the summer I have either been in missions committee meetings, on vacation, or called in as a substitute two-year-olds helper (now *that* was an interesting night).

Last night I was exhausted and didn't think I would stay awake through the slide show. After the devo-ette I noticed some friends of mine making a move towards the back of the auditorium. Wondering if there had been some sort of contraband singing class set up in the basement, I hopefully whispered, "Hey, is there a singing class somewhere?"

One of them smiled and beckoned with her hand, "Follow me."

So I followed her down the stairs and found myself in a room of 4th-6th graders. But the room was decorated with tiny white lights, ferns, beach chairs, and palmetto tree wallpaper with faux bamboo accents. We all piled into chairs or onto the floor. I snuggled up next to a decorated fern. Someone handed me a songbook, and I opened it discover songs I hadn't sung since my last youth rally in Scotland. Some I had not sung since I left Harding. The kids were generally well-behaved and did a beautiful job singing. We had a nice, practical little lesson about the Parable of the Talents and then, when the bell rang, broke for cookies and Capri Suns.

It was refreshing. It was different. And last night, it was a reminder that God knows just what I need, and He provides just when I need it most.