A few weeks ago, Ben and I celebrated 10 years of marriage.  The time has flown by.  To mark the day, we sat down with Fred (age 8) and Bea (age 4.5) and watched the video of our wedding.  The kids were surprisingly and charmingly interested by it all.  They recognized a number of their family and friends.  And they were trying to guess who the young kids on the screen were from among the grown versions they know now.  And then they had LOTS of questions: Why was I wearing a white dress and Daddy a black suit?  Who was the guy in the funny hat?  (That would be the bishop if you’re wondering)  What was that church we were in and had they ever been there?  And they wanted to know who all the key players were – the ones they weren’t so familiar with. 

So, when Ingrid Hoyle walked up to the lectern to read the psalm, they asked, “Who’s that?”  And I had the sweet pleasure of telling them that that lady was a grown-up in the church I attended as a girl.  Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Hoyle (as they will always be to me) were members for most if not all of my life at St. Dunstan’s Episcopal Church.  They watched me grow up and they – like so many people at that parish – were part of the furniture of love in my growing-up.  Perhaps I didn’t see them every day, but their presence in my life was nonetheless constant, a sure thing.  And as I got older and took greater part in the life of the parish, the Hoyles’ role in my life took on more significance.  I served as a youth member on various committees with them and I distinctly remember that, upon my high school graduation, they gave me one of the most useful gifts I have ever received: a small toolbox with a number of basic tools.  I still own that toolbox and some of those tools get daily use in my house even to this day. 

I told Bea and Fred this as Mrs. Hoyle’s voice carried on in the background on the wedding video.  And then I said, “Just think: one day, if and when each of you gets married, maybe a few of the grown-ups from our church, from Thankful, will be there.  Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Now, the sad truth is that some of the stalwarts of my children’s experience of the Church at Thankful may very well be dead by the time Fred or Bea gets married (sorry, y’all – sad but true).  Still… one can always hold on to hope!  And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that whether or not some of our dearest Thankful Ones are able to be physically present at my children’s weddings twenty or thirty years from now is somewhat irrelevant.  Because the role that these people play in the psyches of my children right now will live on with them forever. 

Fred and Bea have been attending Thankful Memorial Episcopal Church their whole lives.  They don’t really know any other place as the embodiment of “church.”  When I’ve been on maternity leaves or sabbatical with them, we’ve gone most Sundays to the local Episcopal parish, but even at their young ages, my kids know that that church isn’t our church.  Our church is the place where there are people who have loved them from before they were born, while they were still within me. 

In Psalm 71, the psalmist states: “For you are my hope, O Lord God, my confidence since I was young.  I have been sustained by you ever since I was born; from my mother’s womb you have been my strength.”

In that sense, the people of Thankful have most certainly embodied God, incarnated the loving Lord, for my children.  For since their birth, they have always known that they can count on the love of this community, that such love will sustain them. 

And though they may not be aware of it, Fred and Bea – and even little Toby too – are having their young psyches imprinted even now with the best examples of ordinary righteous human beings.  And they will carry such imprints with them throughout their lives:

The faithfulness of Jane

The generosity of Bill and Anne

The intelligent kindness of Lynn

Monica’s easy-going but unflagging work ethic

Eric’s non-anxious presence

John’s steadfastness and reliability

Tom’s humility and humor

Linda’s personal dedication

And above all, the abundance of love with which the whole community surrounds them.

And, lest anyone thinks, “Of course parishioners love their rector’s children,” a couple more thoughts about Thankful Ones:

1. It’s not true that congregants always love the children of their pastor.  I’ve got many ministerial colleagues whose congregations have not been so welcoming of the news of the rector’s pregnancy and/or who don’t support the well-being of the pastor and his or her whole family in the way Thankful Ones do.  And
2. It’s not just my kids.  Over the years, Thankful Church has attracted more and more young families.  Even though our children’s Christian education program is pretty limited, even though there’s not much for kids outside of Sunday morning worship, about one-fifth of our regular Sunday attendance is made up of little ones.  And it’s because they (and their parents) learn very quickly that they are truly welcomed and wholly loved by these people. 

So, I’m hugely grateful for the Ingrid Hoyles of this world – wherever they show up in the church and in children’s lives.  And I’m hugely grateful for the fact that so many of them seem to have shown up at Thankful.