{"id":68,"date":"2010-08-03T01:49:00","date_gmt":"2010-08-03T01:49:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katiepolski.com\/?p=68"},"modified":"2010-08-03T01:49:00","modified_gmt":"2010-08-03T01:49:00","slug":"it-takes-a-community","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/katiepolski.com\/?p=68","title":{"rendered":"It takes a Community"},"content":{"rendered":"<\/link><\/link><\/link>\n
I\u2019d like to rephrase the common saying:  \u201cIt takes a village\u2026,\u201d to, \u201cIt takes a (church) community.\u201d  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
Not as smooth, I know, but true, non-the-less.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
Growing up in a pastor\u2019s home, I know this to be the case.  My parents were often busy on Sunday mornings with various responsibilities, so sometimes we were left to fend for ourselves.  That was the idea, but the reality was that the church came along side my parents and took to heart the vow that each member takes when a child is baptized promising to \u201cassist the parents in the nurture and admonition of this child.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
There was a couple in our church who faithfully sat with us each Sunday while Dad preached and Mom sang in the choir.   They helped practically.  And then there were Sunday school teachers, children\u2019s church leaders, and others who helped in nurturing us spiritually.   <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
It was my younger sister, though, who experienced the sweet necessity of this community in a truly unique way.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
Shortly after returning home from a long morning at church, there was a knock at the door.  A church member stood on our front step, looking curiously at my dad.  \u201cRodney, did you forget anything at church today?\u201d  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I will never forget his response:  \u201cDid I forget my Bible?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she was totally trying not to laugh.  \u201cYou forgot your daughter.\u201d  And in walked the poor soul of my younger sister \u2013 forever scarred by being forgotten and all Erin and I could do was laugh\u2026.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I\u2019m telling you, it takes a community.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I will never forget the chills of emotion that ran through my body upon each of my own children\u2019s baptism\u2019s as the congregation faced us raising their hands promising to help us in the nurture of our own children.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
If only each group knew what they were really getting into coming alongside the Polski clan.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
My oldest two kids were young when we moved to St. Simons Island, Ga., where Chris took his first job as a Sr. Pastor.  I embraced the fact that there were many young mothers in the church when we began there, but I was also drawn to the particularly refined nature of those who lived on the Island; even the children seemed consistently polished.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I tried to learn the fine art of refinement, but somehow I never seemed to quite get it.  What I remember about my daughter\u2019s first day of preschool, for example, is a picture of six girls with big bows, smock dresses and curls and then my daughter, right in the middle, sticking out like a sore thumb, with her shorts and t-shirt. <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
On one Sunday, still fairly new to our church community, I pulled a fellow mother aside and asked her if I could get some advice.  She seemed very willing.    <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I got right to the point:  I needed to know how to potty train a boy.  Coming from a family with three girls and potty training one little girl, I didn\u2019t have a clue what to do with a boy.  Do they sit, stand?   I had even heard about floating toys that could be purchased at Walmart that help boys \u201caim\u201d in the right direction.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
Clearly taken back by my question, she pulled me in and said simply and quietly, \u201cYou just do the same thing you did with your daughter.\u201d  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
Yes, of course.   I felt like combating my previous bit with, \u201cYea, I knew that.  I just wanted to make sure.\u201d But, especially after seeking out her knowledge on the potty floating toys from Walmart, nothing seemed more appropriate than, \u201cThanks for the advice.\u201d  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
The next Sunday, immediately following the service, my husband and I stood in the foyer greeting and meeting various people from the congregation.  While talking to one of the new -comers about our move to the Island, I saw something out of the corner of my eye that will remain embedded in my memory forever.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
My son was running naked through the hallway toward the foyer of people.  He was fully unclothed except for his dress shoes and socks.  Before I could will my body to move, my son stood there, naked, clinging to my leg, acting, of course, as if this was a normal occurrence for our family.  The brief moment wasn\u2019t doing much for me in the refining department.    <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
The scene was like one from the movies.  The chatting stopped and the attention was given to me\u2026.and my naked child.  I actually welcomed the few chuckles and tried to joke my way out of the situation by saying, \u201cwell, at least he has on his Loafers!\u201d  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I\u2019m not sure what I was thinking by pointing to his Penny Loafers as the silver lining in a deeply embarrassing situation.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I took him back down the hallway and tried to figure out, with all the calmness I could muster, why in the world he had no clothes on.  His explanation was as simple and direct as I should have expected it to be:  he had to go to potty.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
I wasn\u2019t sure if taking off his clothes happened before or after going potty, but what I was sure about was the sweet look of pity from my potty-training advice friend as she followed me down the hallway, not with the purpose of chastising me, but instead admitting with me that perhaps we<\/i> will need to go about the potty training thing differently than I did with Ella.   Her use of \u201cwe\u201d was quite purposeful. <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
It takes a community, no matter how different we are from one another.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
The beautiful thing is that a church community can really become an extended family.  Extended fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters \u2013 just as God intended it to be.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
This morning at church, when I sat down in my familiar spot getting ready for the sermon, there were two pointed movements that happened simultaneously.  The woman sitting to my right routinely held her Bible in such a way that I could read along.  It seems as though I can remember everything for church from music to cheerios to water cups to nursery tools, but I tend to forget my Bible, and my friend knew this.    <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
At the same moment, the woman sitting in front of me held behind her a pen and piece of paper, knowing that I would have neither with me, but understanding that I love to take notes while the sermon is preached.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/div>\n
And then I considered something.  It takes a community.  It takes a community both practically and spiritually\u2026..for all of us.  <\/span><\/o:p><\/span><\/b><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019d like to rephrase the common saying:  \u201cIt takes a village\u2026,\u201d to, \u201cIt takes a (church) community.\u201d  Not as smooth, … <\/p>\n

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