It was about the scissors.
Back in September I’d sent two tubs of art supplies, including a stash of those coveted youth-size scissors, up to Portland Friends for the Quaker Oats Box Party. I was eager to get them back. So, when Maggie Fiori offered to deliver them to Framingham Meeting the day of the Young Friends Retreat two weeks ago, I was thrilled. Friends at Framingham graciously agreed to be the holding station. I was sure it’d be a piece of cake to retrieve them.
Unbeknownst to me, the town road leading to Framingham’s meetinghouse was being repaired. The day I stopped by, the road was completely closed. Multiple dump trucks, front-loaders, and construction workers made even wrangling my van into the driveway impossible.
Now what?
After multiple drive-by’s, where I tried to figure out what to do without causing an accident, I decided the situation called for drastic measures. I parked just off the road at the bottom of a very steep driveway, prayed that the parking brake would hold, ran across the street and through the woods behind the meetinghouse, remembered the code for entry into the building, quickly retrieved the tubs—right where Maggie had left them—and retraced my steps, hoping it had all been quick enough that no one was inconvenienced.
My determination was fueled by the contents of those two tubs. They held some of the most essential tools I use for helping children and teens become more aware of the presence of God and all that is sacred: working glue guns, bright duct tape, drawing tools, paintboxes, clay, yarn, pompoms, origami paper, and good scissors. I see craft tables the way others see meetinghouse foyers—as a Way into worship.
Over the years those tubs have helped us make a "Catalog of God’s Toolbox" and a book entitled "What are all those people doing with their eyes shut?" We have made hundreds of clothespin dolls, friendship bracelets, God’s Eyes, and secret wristwatches that connected directly to God. Several years we made "Keep Hope Alive" boxes for each other, and every year we’ve made so many paper cranes to leave in meetinghouses that ornithologists should create a name for flocks of them.
In and around this creativity, we have giggled and chit-chatted, unleashed wonder, relaxed our bodies, and deepened friendships. We’ve talked about how our Quaker friends are different from school friends, about parents and siblings, about what keeps us up at night. Meditating with Sculpey clay and music have dropped us into some of the deepest worship- sharing we’ve ever experienced. Theologians would swoon. In the midst of the silliness and pony beads, opportunities to be creative together have enriched our spiritual journeys both individually and collectively.
I love Friends’ form of unprogrammed worship. Its simplicity is beautiful. But Simplicity is not the end goal. Sensing the presence of the Divine, and being faithful to our sense of its guidance and Light, is where our yearning hearts lean. Over the years, I’ve become convinced it’s okay—even essential—that we use the tools, activities, or practices that help us get to that vast spaciousness of Spirit. Whatever gets us around the roadblock in our being so we can arrive and live from that Center is worth tromping through the woods to retrieve.
Much love from the craft table,
Gretchen