SERVNG THE SERVINGPaper airplanes paraded overhead, dive bombing those who had not yet finished painting for patriots. Sisters and brothers, potential littles and BIGS, along with VISTAs alike had all come to honor our soldiers for National Service Day. We gathered at ESP, underneath their spectacular awning. You see, the sky was still sharing her sobs, saturating the ground. Although, the afternoon mission began a few minutes late, and I felt myself trying to conquer concerns that no one would come, I soon saw the faces I was waiting for. One everyone arrived, I had our group split into pairs of adults and small bundles of energy. Staring at the paints, paper, and ..., the kids listened without ... as I walked them through what we would be doing that day. Following the revelation that they could - and would - be invited to write to soldiers, I read to them some sentiments where these soldiers sang their praises! I swore I could see the meaning spreading over their faces. Next, inevitable questions broke the solemn silence that would not reappear until it was almost the end of our time together.
Each duo was offered a sample of cards made for our servicemen and women. At that point, I unleashed them onto the variety of crafts for them to work with. I solicited a directory of photography and photographer amongst the ranks of the littles and went around offering suggestions when needed. One boy's face had remained stoic since the his arrival. I sat adjacent to his painting, asking what he had created. It turns out that there was an entire ocean scene in front of him, complete with sun and sky. By this time the rain had relented and obeyed him. The sun shone and showed it's support. I decided that a bit of the same paint brushed along his cheeks would bring his art to life and a smile to his face. Oh, did her ever love the idea, especially when I suggested that he could paint my face as well. I drew two blue lines under his eyes and one on his nose. He then took the brush and returned the favor, with a growing grin. Within ten to fifteen minutes I had already glimpsed more blurs of colors racing around on little smiling faces. Purple, green, red...radiant.
Camouflaged, our surprise serving speaker came prepared to satisfy the small senses. He brought helmets for different weather, pictures of his own service and stories that illustrated the sacrifice soldiers make and what it really means to receive letters from those thinking of you at home. We sat in a circle and passed around these priceless projectiles of perspective until question gave way to gratitude.
Each duo was offered a sample of cards made for our servicemen and women. At that point, I unleashed them onto the variety of crafts for them to work with. I solicited a directory of photography and photographer amongst the ranks of the littles and went around offering suggestions when needed. One boy's face had remained stoic since the his arrival. I sat adjacent to his painting, asking what he had created. It turns out that there was an entire ocean scene in front of him, complete with sun and sky. By this time the rain had relented and obeyed him. The sun shone and showed it's support. I decided that a bit of the same paint brushed along his cheeks would bring his art to life and a smile to his face. Oh, did her ever love the idea, especially when I suggested that he could paint my face as well. I drew two blue lines under his eyes and one on his nose. He then took the brush and returned the favor, with a growing grin. Within ten to fifteen minutes I had already glimpsed more blurs of colors racing around on little smiling faces. Purple, green, red...radiant.
Camouflaged, our surprise serving speaker came prepared to satisfy the small senses. He brought helmets for different weather, pictures of his own service and stories that illustrated the sacrifice soldiers make and what it really means to receive letters from those thinking of you at home. We sat in a circle and passed around these priceless projectiles of perspective until question gave way to gratitude.
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