I can still smell
the sweet musty scent
of the church basement
where I went to Sunday School
as a child.

I can still see the 
white plastic, church-light-coin-box 
in which we deposited our pennies
on the Sundays
closest to our birthdays –
one penny for each year of our age.

I can still hear the old upright piano,
slightly out of tune,
and so familiar
as we sang our Opening songs 
every Sunday –
He Leadeth Me,
O God our Help in Ages Past,
Savior Like a Shepherd Lead Us.

I can still see the little chairs
on which we sat,
the tables around which we gathered,
the steps that we climbed to the sanctuary,
and the clusters of children and adults
throughout the one big room,
learning Bible stories
and Luther’s Small Catechism,
and that there are people of faith
who love you 
and care about you
and who want the best for you in life
and want you to know
and trust
and believe
more than anything else in the world
that God loves you
as God’s own beloved child –
full stop. 
No exceptions.

And I can still see Eunice.
Eunice was my Kindergarten Sunday School teacher.
Eunice played the guitar
and she sang songs
and she wore white fashion boots
and smiled a lot
and she taught us about Jesus.

I remember one Sunday
in particular. 
It was a day that we left the basement
for Sunday school.
We didn’t have to sit
on the little wooden chairs that day.
We didn’t have to sit still
for the whole hour that day.
Instead,
Eunice led us up the steps
that came in the back of the church,
and we went up the aisle
and got to sit on the floor
inside the altar rail.
We never got to go
inside the altar rail –
But that day we did.
And Eunice told us
to look up –
Look up at the picture that
was above the white and gold-trimmed altar.
Look up,
She said.
What do you see?
She asked,
when you look at the picture?

I was a shy five-year-old,
so I kept my thoughts to myself,
But someone said what I was thinking.
A man sinking in the water.
Someone else said,
Jesus standing on the water.
Someone else said,
Jesus pulling the sinking man up.

And Eunice smiled and nodded.

After she heard
everything we had to say about the picture –
the picture of Peter sinking 
in the water
and Jesus holding on for dear life –
Eunice asked us
if we knew what the name of our Church was.
I thought it was a trick question
because our church had two names.
And somebody said “Rosehill.”
Somebody else said, “Emmanuel.”
And Eunice told us
that both were right.
Our church was
Emmanuel Lutheran Church of Rosehill Township.
And then she said,
Today I want to talk to you about
Emmanuel.
She asked us if any of us 
knew what “Emmanuel” meant.
When we all shook our heads,
She said,
Emmanuel means “God with us.”
It is one of the names of Jesus.
She had us say Emmanuel 
with her several times,
And then she told us to
look up at the picture above the altar again.
Look up.

As we did so,
Eunice told us the story of Peter,
stepping out of the boat,
and trying to walk toward Jesus
on the water.
She told us 
how he started to sink
and how Jesus reached out to save him.
She told us
that there would be times in our lives
when we would feel like Peter,
when we would feel like we were sinking,
but to always remember
that Jesus is always with us,
that Jesus will always reach out to help us,
to pull us up to his safe arms.
She told us 
to always remember
that whatever happened to us –
whatever we experienced –
good or bad –
happy or sad –
Jesus would always be with us –
just like Jesus was with Peter
that day on the water. 

I can still see Eunice –
the passion in her eyes,
the smile on her face,
the joy in her voice
as she told us about Emmanuel –
God who is always with us. 

I have frequently thought 
about that day
over the years –
how formative it was,
how it has stuck with me,
how often I return to it,
and how,
when I close my eyes,
I can still see that picture
that was above
that old church altar –
and if I let myself
imagine it –
I can feel the arms of Jesus
reaching out 
in both gentleness and power
to hold onto me,
especially when life is hard.

Eunice 
is in her eighties now,
and I am fortunate
that I still have a relationship
with this one who taught 
me the faith
so many years ago.
In many ways,
I am still a Kindergartener
and she is still my teacher.
Eunice continues to embrace life,
to be full of laughter,
love, and joy,
still singing about Jesus,
still reminding me
that more than anything else in the world,
Jesus is always with me.
God loves me.
as God’s own beloved child.
full stop.
No exceptions.

Several years ago
when my wife and I
were getting married,
there were some
in our small, rural community
who were less than kind,
and Eunice sent us a card
and to let us know
how much she loved us both,
to congratulate us,
to speak a word
of acceptance,
love, 
and grace. 
It was a holy,
life-giving,
sacramental gesture.

Every once in a while, 
we will get a letter in the mail
with a clipping
from the newspaper,
or rainbow bracelets,
or a simply profound word of kindness,
And when those missives come –
We got one such letter last week,
prompting me to write this reflection –
it is as if I am five years-old again,
sitting at the foot of that old wooden altar,
staring up at Peter sinking in the water –
Jesus holding on for dear life –
and hearing again
and anew –
Jesus is always with you –

And I am reminded 
how utterly important it is
to keep on speaking
words of
acceptance,
grace,
and love
into people’s lives.
No one can ever hear too many times,
Jesus is always with you.
No one can hear too many times
God loves you.
No one can hear too many times
You are God’s own beloved child.
Full stop.
No exceptions.

And so, dear readers,
If you are a Eunice
in other people’s lives,
thanks be to God for you.

If you need a Eunice 
in your life today,
I’ve got a word for you:
Jesus is always with you.
God loves you
as God’s own beloved child –
full stop. 
No exceptions.

And finally,
thank God
for sweet, musty church basements
and the messages of grace
that get planted there.