The Rev. Carol S. Wedell

       In mid-November I attended a preaching workshop led by Brenda Grauer.  She shared a story which immediately caught my attention and grasped my heart.  This is what it means to be called and claimed by God!  With her permission, I share her story with you this morning.    

         Years ago, Brenda worked as a teacher in a small private elementary school in a suburb of Baltimore, Maryland.  Ruxton Country School was housed in an old, rambling, three-storied house in a quaint, narrow-streeted, neighborhood. The children who walked and carpooled to this warm, intimate, nurturing place were, by-and-large, children for whom large public school classrooms didn't work well.  Many of the children needed special assistance with their learning, either because they were very, very bright or because they had had life experiences which caused them to need a special, caring environment in which to grow whole again.  Here at Ruxton the maximum class size was nine children; the school as a whole was an extension of the child's family.  It was a very special place to live and work...teachers and children together worked and learned, ate, sang, played, and laughed side-by-side, day-by-day.  This is where the story of Joey took place.  (As Brenda spoke in the first person, I will be speaking in her voice).

            "Joey was a handsome, lanky, athletic-looking second grader, who each day would run into our basement classroom, throw his book bag under his desk, stop by my desk for a quick hug...and then, as if a whirlwind had just pushed open our door, make a quick swush around the room...he would then exit, slamming the door behind.  The entire circuit took Joey less than twenty seconds!  Energetic, fast, not wanting to miss anything ...especially not anything out in the school yard...Joey had a smile that stretched from ear to ear and a voice that in it's exuberance could be heard three blocks away!  He was tall for a second grader, but then he was also older than most of the children in my class, for Joey had encountered more than his share of bumps in the road of life.  And so he was needing a little extra time at Ruxton School to catch up with second grade academic skills; he was also needing a lot of practice in developing the social graces that would help him make and keep friendships with other children.  Each day Joey's adopted father would drop him off at the street's edge, get out of his car for a good-bye hug and kiss, and then drive off, leaving Joey to make his whirlwind trek from car, to classroom, to school yard, where he would burst into whatever ballgame was in progress, arms and legs excitedly flailing throughout the trek. 

            I think of Joey often these many years later.  When life is just a little out of control; when someone is trying to manage just a bit more than is humanly possible, I see Joey there, trying to reign in those long arms and legs that were almost always in the way of someone else, and impeding his own progress.  Or when a situation feels just a little awkward, and I wish I would know just what to say, there's the memory of Joey looking beseechingly up into my face saying, "help!?"

            It was Joey who reminded everyone in the class to say "thank you", and "please", and "I'm sorry", for Joey desperately wanted to please the others in his world.  But things didn't always go just right.  There was the day Joey presented a huge chocolate cupcake to a classmate he wanted as a friend.  When the treat was half eaten, Ellen - another classmate - found a chocolate cupcake mysteriously missing from her lunchbox!  At Easter time, Joey presented me with a whole dozen beautifully-dyed Easter eggs, still in their cardboard carton.  As I hugged him, commenting how wonderful they were, he confessed that he'd gotten up early that morning to dye them all by himself....but he hadn't had time to cook them yet!  Sometimes no matter how hard we try to do the right things in life, something makes them go askew.

            But the most helpful lesson Joey - with the help of his adoptive Dad -  taught me, happened one Thursday afternoon.  On the wall of our classroom I had mounted a chart with each of the children's names on it.  When they had passed the week's spelling lesson, a star went up on the chart.  When homework had been done with care, a star went up on the chart.  Stars symbolized academic effort, accomplishment, and were a source of pride.  (They also presented the teacher with some bargaining power!)  After saying "goodbye" to my class, I went back into my classroom this particular Thursday afternoon, only to notice that during my absence, someone had altered the chart.  Behind Joey's name the stars - which had numbered six earlier that afternoon...now stretched to the edge of the chart, made a sharp bend and continued around the chart's perimeter.  Horrified, I swung into action.  Down came the chart from the wall; Joey's name and fictitious accomplishments were sliced from the grid, and a new insert was adapted, displaying the name "Joey" with only one isolate star.  By the time Joey arrived at the door minutes later, exuberantly dragging his Dad in to see this wonder of wonder in his classroom, the chart was re-anchored onto the wall and I was quietly seated at my desk preparing the next day's lessons.  My previous horror was now transferred to Joey, who crestfallen, embarrassed, and angry at having been discovered, broke into uncontrollable sobs.  At a glance, Joey's Dad surmised the situation.  He stooped down eye to eye with his son, gathered the sobbing child into his arms, and allowing him to calm in the tender warmth of his embrace, he kissed the top of his head.  Then, when the child began wiping the tears from his face, his Dad, with not one bit of retribution or condemnation, put his hand firmly on Joey's chest and said, "Joey, you are my beloved son.  I will always love you.  I love you just as you are."

            That my friends, is what baptism is about.  It is God's own tender, loving, spirit, kissing us on the top of the head, and reminding us that no matter what bumps in the road we encounter; no matter how imperfect our efforts, God claims us in love; in all of life and in death we belong to God."

            Today, we invited to recall our own baptism.  God has called each one of us by a new name:  beloved.  Like Joey, we are set free from all that would weigh us down, from all of the voices that would tell us we are not enough, from the voices that urge us to be more, do more, have more.  One voice echoes above all of the others:  "You are my beloved child."  We don't - we can't -- earn that love.  It is a freely given gift, never to be taken away.  Remember your baptism - and be thankful!