Morning Thanks--three little girls

an earlier extravaganza--there were more kids last night!

The thing is, if you want to grab a good seat, you've got to park somewhere in the next county--that many people. College commencements pack the place, but all that pomp and circumstance has nothing on the annual Christian school extravaganza, where the first trick is getting a seat, and the first act is simply getting the entire bunch--600?--up there on stage, just getting them there.

You can't discount the importance of test scores in any school evaluation, but what last night's immensity made clear is that something really good is going on at Sioux Center Christian School, not just because the music was "Christian" or the outline for the evening explained the inspiring paths the entire bunch had explored throughout the calendar year, but because simply keeping 600 (?) kids in some semblance of order without balls-and-chains and three or four cat o' nine tails requires inner discipline rare these days or any. All those kids sat and stood on command. All those kids sang their hearts out, oldest and biggest and tallest right down to towheads. An amazing feat. If orderliness is a virtue, that growing student body seemed pretty much without sin. 'T'was impressive.

Couldn't help thinking of the building's namesake, B J Haan, once a dynamo dominee, who single-handedly kept Hollywood out of Sioux Center, but then turned his attention on the local Christian school, then barely scraping by, made it a requirement for his church, suffered some losses thereby, but somehow saved the school, an old world idea for the new world. Last night, we were seated in a facility sometimes called "the beej," in his honor, and he would have loved it, maybe especially because his grandson, nickname BJ, is assistant principal.

I'll admit it. The annual SCCS extravaganza isn't my favorite production, and we have just one to go. We've been there, steady as she goes, since our oldest grandchild, married for a year now, was in kindergarten. Her brother is a seventh grader, which means we're veterans. 

We've seen a bunch. For a time, whoever did the program bought goofy shows from the local Christian trinket store, Bible cartoons. Thankfully, that's history. As of late, the entire operation seem more substantial, more an outgrowth of the primary objective of any school--education. Last night's didn't have any bearded Noahs four-feet tall. Last night's was impressive. 

One little girl--first-grader maybe, stood right up front. Clearly, she found focus difficult--autism, maybe? She pretty much stayed in the place assigned her, but it was clear throughout that she was preferred to stay in her own world. Once in a while, sometimes, her gestures matched those of the children beside her. She was special.

But so were the two first-grade girls beside her, both of whom didn't miss a beat, sang joyously throughout while the sweetheart beside them pretty much stayed in her own little world. To me, it seemed they were perfectly at home with her shenanigans. It was as if they were giving her leave to do what she wanted and be where she wanted. They just kept on singing. 

I'm never all that thrilled about attending the annual musical spectacle, but last night's was a joy. Just getting them all on stage is a first act that's hard to follow. But this morning I'm thankful for the show put up by three little first-graders, two of whom gave the other space to be her and never missed a beat, never once went off script. The show was great, but they were beautiful.