Forever a Child by Jenna Vick Silliman

If heaven was giving out awards, I think I would be in the running for winning the award for “Biggest Kid”. After all, I’m five feet eight inches tall—that is a pretty big kid! Some of my best friends are children. I don’t have very many peers that like to goof off as much as I do—they are probably embarrassed to be seen with me! I like to load up my car with kids and go to the beach, go swim at the pool, go folk dancing, or go to the park. I turn the radio up nice and loud and sing at the top of my vocal capacity. I don’t wanna get a speeding ticket, but I really like to drive fast. What I do is “hug the turns” whenever possible and as fast as possible. It is so fun to make the kids squeal! As a result of hanging out with kids a lot, I get invited to their birthday parties. My favorite one so far was Angelina’s princess party. I am pictured here, dressed as a princess, surrounded by my little friends. I told you I was the biggest kid!

One way I am childlike is that I like to have fun. If you ask me what one of my goals is, I will probably say, “To have fun!” To be funloving is a character quality I admire and hope to develop more and more. I like to goof off with kids because they really know how to have fun. When they go to the beach or the park, kids don’t think about their list of things to do or how much money they have in the bank or about their next appointment—they just have fun. My youngest child, Peter, and his friend, Michel and I went shopping one day and I was having a good time with them skipping in the parking lot, telling jokes, and looking at stuff to buy. Michel paid me a high compliment that day. He said, “You know Jenna, you are more like a kid than a mom!” I said, “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”

I like to make people laugh. Laughing is SO fun and it is contagious too. One of my favorite scenes from a Disney movie is the one in Mary Poppins where they all start singing “I love to laugh—hahaha!” and they all float up to the ceiling. Wouldn’t that be fun?! Children laugh on an average of 400 times per day! Adults laugh like about 15 times a day. Whew--what a difference! I think I’d rather be a kid, wouldn’t you? If you listen carefully, children call adults “dolts”. So that’s what I’ve started calling them too. Hahaha! I’d rather be a kid than a dolt!

Another way I’m like a kid, is I love to sing silly songs. It is common for me to break out in song and the silly ones are my favorites. (With a last name of Silliman, I can’t be too serious, now can I?) For some examples, you might know this song: “I know an old lady who swallowed a fly…I don’t know why she swallowed a fly; I guess she’ll die!” Do you know this one? “I had a little sister; her name was sister Sue, we put her in the bathtub to see what she would do. She drank up all the water, she ate a bar of soap, she tried to eat the bathtub, but it wouldn’t fit down her throat!” Here’s another favorite: “If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops, oh what a rain it would be! I’d stand outside with my mouth open wide, singin’ ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah!”

Don’t you love the way children are full of wonder and amazement at the world? They chase butterflies, blow dandelion seeds and watch them float on the air, and they love to run and jump and dance around. I love to go swimming with kids and play games in the water. That’s a blast. I like the way kids will get enthusiastic about things too. Why do we have to be so dang reserved all the time? To be childlike is to be more trusting and loving and spontaneous and honest. I teach a children’s dance class and my students never cease to amaze me at how loving they are. They run over and hug me and tell me they love me. They skip and frolic around with carefree abandon. I want to be more like that. Yesterday one little girl told me, “I like your colorful blouse, but I don’t think it matches your twirly skirt very well.” Hahaha! That made me laugh! Kids are so honest. They tell you when they like something and when they don’t.

When I was a girl I was often scolded for daydreaming. My hands would slow down at the task at hand—such as washing dishes, folding laundry, or doing a math assignment. Instead I would stare off into the distance, lost in my dream world. I wrote creative stories about make believe lands and enjoyed reading and daydreaming about what it would be like to be one of the characters in the book. Even now, at age 54, I like to dream. You’d think I would have grown out of it by now, wouldn’t you? No, I like to dream about all the possibilities in life, such as where I’d like to travel and what I’d like to do. The Bible says, “Nothing is impossible with God.” We have an unlimited God and so we need not limit ourselves or our lives either.

As long as I am faithful and responsible and dependable and all those grown-up things, I don’t see anything wrong with being like a kid. In fact, the Lord Jesus said, “Be as a little child to enter My kingdom.” Now I have a new dream. I can picture the Lord saying, “Here’s your award, Princess Jenna.” Jesus walks towards me in a trailing purple robe and in His hands is a golden crown all sparkling with diamonds and jewels of different colors and He places it upon my head and says, “Good job on being childlike! Well done—you have entered into My joy everlasting!”

My Dad, Jim Vick by Jenna Vick Silliman

My father, Jim Vick, has positively influenced me in many ways. Like my father, I love music, dancing, singing, and laughter. Growing up, whenever my dad was home, he would have music on the radio or stereo or he’d pick up his guitar and play music. He liked to have fun and make us laugh with whatever jokes he’d heard, by telling a story, or by singing a silly song. Now I am like that too! I’m such a silly mom (The name Silliman fits!) that one of my son’s friends said to me, “You are more like a kid than a mom.” I took that as a compliment!

Dad likes to sing and whenever the mood strikes, he sings out with gusto. He sings all kinds of songs. Last summer we visited him in Northern California and I told him about some of the songs we sang at the nursing homes in our sing-a-longs on Wednesdays. As I knew would happen, we ended up having a sing-a-long right then and there. We sang, “Take me out to the ball game…” It didn’t matter that we were in a restaurant! Hahaha!

I like to think about how, as my dad’s firstborn child, I influenced him and “broke HIM in” to the world of babies, bottles, diaper-changing, and sleepless nights. Dad likes to tell the story of the first time he saw me. I was born at St. Joseph’s Hospital in San Francisco, four days after Valentine’s Day. Dad said, “They put you in my arms and you were all red and squallin’ and you had this big wrinkle of skin on your forehead. I thought to myself, ‘What have I done! I’ve created a monster!’”

We lived in San Carlos, about a half an hour south of San Francisco, and Dad commuted on the train to the city. He sold insurance bid bonds to contractors for a living for almost thirty years. Though he didn’t particularly enjoy selling, he did what he had to do make a living and provide for his family. That attitude of sacrificial giving of your life for your loved ones has been a shining Christ-like example to me my whole life. I was a “Daddy’s Girl” and sought to please him every chance I got. This has served me well in life because now I’m my Heavenly Father’s “Daddy’s Girl.” I delight in His Presence and seek to please Him.

After school I waited on the sidewalk for Daddy to walk home from the train station. I roller skated, played with my Barbie doll, or bounced my red, rubber ball to pass the time till Daddy got home. Many was the day I didn’t see my father because he left for work before I woke up and he worked late and didn’t get home till after I went to bed. When I spotted him I squealed with glee, ran to him with open arms for a hug, and put my little hand into his big one to walk him home. I loved to see his monthly train ticket—a long strip of paper with multi-colored squares and little holes punched on the dates. At the end of the month I was thrilled when he gave me his expired ticket. I collected them in a scrap book and still have them to this day.

Some of my earliest memories of dancing were rocking out with Dad in our living room to music on the radio. When I was little, my dad would pick me up and spin me around. Maybe that’s why I like twirling around so much when I dance! He now watches old movies of musicals and dance performances more than he dances himself. He’s 80 years old now and doesn’t boogie as much as he used to. However, on a recent visit we all went out to eat and there was some rhythm and blues playing and I noticed he enjoyed a little dancing down the hallway on the way to the men’s room.

Whenever there is a teachable moment, my dad takes the opportunity to give a lesson. I still think of him when I fold a letter into three equal parts, when I tie my shoes, or when I introduce myself to someone and make a point to say upon leaving, “Nice to meet you!”

I learned to love the ocean from my dad. Some of our happiest memories were Saturdays spent at the Pacific Ocean beaches near San Francisco. There is something so refreshing and invigorating about breathing in the salt sea air, listening to the roar, feeling the wind in your hair, and watching wave after wave crash and smoothly slide out onto the sand. I also love rock hunting along the shore like my father. I never get tired of picking up a rock that catches my attention and marveling over the beauty of it. Rocks rock! I learned that from my dad.

My father is a very positive man. He taught me to try to always say something nice about people. He told me you can always compliment a person’s smile. My father is very charming and in his day you would describe him as tall, dark, and handsome. Though he is stooped over and white haired now, I see him through love-filled eyes as one of the most good-lookin’ men you’d ever meet. I love you, Daddy!

The Bride and the “Broom”

Linda Maynard is without power from the storm that ravaged the East Coast.  Being a trooper, she got her blog to us.  As you read it, pray for her and all those on the East Coast without power and dealing with the aftermaths of this storm.

Sometimes, when people have said to me…”I always knew I wanted to be…” OR when asked “ What dreams did you always have?”, I have sometimes been stumped.

Not having a lot of stability growing up, it was hard to dream when I was just trying to survive.
As this topic was presented for the Kingdom Bloggers, faint and almost hidden hopes and dreams came back to me.

I remembered a very little girl who attended summer camp.  Rainy day activities centered around a box of crayons. Year after year, I drew and colored the same picture…a Bride and a “Broom”. Yep, that’s what I called him in those days. I was sure that is what people were saying.

This couple was always happy, that I remember. I wanted to get married…but I wanted more assurance that the marriage would be a happier one than the ones that I saw.

As I got a little older, say 6th grade or so,  I started to get stirrings of becoming a nun. I told my mother I wanted to become a nun. I felt that I had the “calling”. I could have joined the convent in 8th grade and finished my high school there. My mother, in her wisdom said “ Let’s wait until you graduate from High School and we will cross that bridge when we come to it” I even had a name picked out…Sister Mary Catherine.

The fact that these two desires focused on being a Bride is not lost to me today. A desire to be a Bride spoke to me of happiness and fulfillment.

Years later, in my adulthood, I kind of made fun of my desire to be a nun. I sensed the Lord did not share the “put down” that I experienced when I thought of it. At that moment, I realized that my true desire was to be as close to God as I could. He knew what was behind my longing. I viewed nuns that way. Also, they even wore a ring symbolizing that they were married to Christ.

I have lived out the dream to be a Happy Bride with my husband of 41 years. Never the perfect life in marriage and yet nothing could ever separate us, except death. We both realize that we are truly a blessed couple.

As far as being a nun, I have since realized that I can be as close to God as I want to be. Scripture tells me that I AM the Bride of Christ.

My capacity for ministry was not lost because I didn‘t chose the convent. I truly love the Lord. I minister in so many ways, that I couldn’t even imagine back then. He is my Bridegroom and I am His Bride.

This remembering and revelation brought front and center that the Lord gives me the desires of my heart…not give me the things I randomly want, as some think…but HE is the one who puts the life giving desires in my heart in the first place.

The words of wise men are like goads...(Ecclesiastes 12:11a)

I was very blessed to have Rye Fleenor as a pastor growing up in a small country church.

Affectionately known to most everyone as Preacher Fleenor, I did a post on him shortly after his passing in late 2009. That's him in the picture holding his now teen-aged great-grandson Andrew, who coincidentally preached this past Sunday at that same small country church. I hear he did a wonderful job too. What an impact and legacy my beloved preacher left behind after his promotion to Glory.

During an annual Bible School one summer in my own pre-teen years, I was introduced to our new pastor, Rye Fleenor. At that time, Bible School was a week-long event and brought kids to the church from all over the local area. Now I'll admit...I was never a shy kid, and my mom would probably goes as far as to say never met a stranger. Meeting Preacher Fleenor was no different for me. While the political posturing to gain any type of influence with the new pastor was ongoing among the adults that week, I took right up with him and Mrs. Fleenor for my own reason...they were both very, very nice people who listened to my stories and opinions.

For a kid, being listened to and taken seriously is pretty important stuff. By week's end, I found my place sitting right between the Fleenors at the closing picnic of Bible School. She cut my corn off the cob for me, and he made sure I got my fair share plus of the homemade ice cream. I had certainly made two new friends and become a big fan of them both.  

So common in most Southern churches, there were many dozens of additional picnics, cookouts and covered dish dinners at the church through those years I was growing up. And let me tell you this too...the ladies at that church could cook (and still can)! As I reflect back over those years, I realize now that Preacher Fleenor had a very unusually long stay as pastor of that little country church. The United Methodist Conference doesn't leave a pastor in the same place for much past a few years, and they have almost complete control over the placement of pastors within the denomination. I'll leave that subject matter alone for now despite my rather strong feelings, and since I attend and belong to a church of a different denomination today.   

I guess God had different plans for Preacher Fleenor, and after all, He still ultimately calls the shots in all church matters (Oops...bet I just offended a few people with that statement).

When I think back across the many memories of sharing a slice or two of watermelon with Preacher Fleenor while we discussed any number of topics (but most always included sports), I realize just how much of an influence he has truly been in my life. No... I've not seen or talked to him in well over 20 years, but the memories are so strong and the positive impact has been...eternal.

Thank you Father for your love and for sharing that love with me through people like Rye Fleenor. I ask you bless the path of Andrew with Your ever righteous and holy touch so that he may have an impact for You on others, like his great grandfather, and always for Your glory. In the precious name of Jesus, Amen.  

Being Pinned

So many things about my childhood and church evoke the warmest of memories.  If I were to give you links to other things I’ve written about from my childhood and church, they would probably fill this page.  If I were to write about everything, it would fill a book.  The task today is to pick one.  Now if you saw my blog on Sounds of Hope yesterday about personality inventories, you can surmise that picking one takes excruciating analysisJ!

Sunday School Parade-I'm on the far
left, the first one in the second row.

I could write about the orchestra and playing the Melodica - I played it long before Casey on this season's American Idol.  I could write again about Christmas pieces, Sunday School programs, Released Time, being a Sunbeam at the Salvation Army, or a Pioneer Girl at the 59^th Street Lutheran Church.  I could write about the magnificent sounds of the choir.  I could tell you about trips to the Lower East Side of Manhattan to tell the “poor” children about Jesus.  Little did I know that we were just as poor, we just didn’t live in a tenement. 

I could tell you about Sunday School parades where I pushed my doll carriage, or proudly carried a Bible, or road my tricycle behind women pushing decorated baby carriages.  Or I could tell you about sitting on a small folding chair on the toddler float while men pulled us down 4^th Avenue.

Sunday School Parade
Toddler Float (no that's
not me)

I could tell you about Sunday School picnics at Prospect Park in Brooklyn.  For us it meant an early ride on the city bus with our food.  Soon those with cars would arrive with ice cream packed in "hot" ice.  A morning game of paper plate Frisbee was followed by an afternoon of egg on the spoon and the annual drenching of the Sunday School teachers as they tossed water balloons until they broke.

I could write about Camp.  Oh how wonderful to pack for Camp Challenge our own church's camp.  And of course I met Jesus on the Island at Jack Wyrtzen’s Word of Life Camp.  I even found Jesus at Camp Ashford, the Salvation Army camp in Connecticut.  I still remember the scratchy Army blanket they gave us for the bed that had to be made to perfection for morning inspection.  Yes I could write a book about my unusual church childhood. If you want to see some pictures from the golden days of this church you can here.

But no, today I am going to write about Sunday School jewelry.  Yes, you got that right.  There is such a thing as Sunday School jewelry.  I suppose it’s purpose was not adornment.  After all, many Pentecostal’s did not wear jewelry.  Fortunately, we were not that kind of Pentecostal.  I must have gotten my first pin before I was a year old.  My mother taught the cradle roll class.  As soon as she thought it feasible, she would bring me to the church prayer room where the class met.  With the other mushy brained children, our brains were being conditioned to love Jesus.  The original cross and crown pin was given to me when I became a member of the Sunday School.  I don’t know if my mother pinned it to my baby clothes, but I do know, it was a kept in safe keeping for me.

My collection of SS pins
There are 2 Lutheran, 2
Methodist, 1 Pentecostal.
One Methodist has the star,
the other the cross and crown

After the cross and crown pin was awarded, for the first year of attendance, you got a wreath to go around your cross and crown pin.  Each year a bar was added.  By the time I was old enough to understand, my pin had four or five bars.  I remember wearing it almost every Sunday.  As the wooden folding doors opened and the wooden partitions taken down, a sea of adults emerged.  Big fur collared coats, with stylish hats, carrying big Bibles, the women made their entrance adorned with the testimony of their faithfulness.  Their Pentecostal cross and crown Sunday School pins started at their shoulders and went to their waist.  They had been in Sunday School for 35, 40, 45 years.  Men’s suits spoke the same message. 

My pin never went past eleven years.  The church stopped giving them out in favor of a simple Sunday School pin with no bars.  Later we left that church and eventually Sunday School pins went the way of hats and furred collars. 

I have a small collection of Pentecostal memorabilia.  My Sunday School pin was long gone.  I remember it’s honored place in my teenage jewelry box.  It’s honor was shared with the Sunbeam Commissioners Medal I had received as a child.  I wanted to hold in my hand a Sunday School pin once again.  I found some on Ebay and bought them.  I could have bought a new one, but I wanted an old one.  I wanted one that said someone was learning faithfulness in Sunday School. 

I don’t go to Sunday School anymore.  I haven’t gone for years and years.  Nevertheless I thank God for faithful people who taught me well.  Did you ever wear a Sunday School pin?  If so, what kind?