A Little Helper

When my son was six years old we received a letter from the Sunday School discharging him from the Little Helpers group at the church. The ignominy of the event didn't seem to faze him, but for the pianist and me it was disturbing! I cannot recall exactly what he had done or not done, but it had to do with the Lenten Box. The Little Helpers were engaged in collecting for the African poor. At least as I remember the box, a triangular cardboard tent, purple, with an African on the side, had a coin slot for the Little Helpers donations. He may have lost his box, spent the money, or we may have failed to maintain his attendance, or encourage a good attitude toward his charity. What ever the cause, the failure was ours, the dismay was ours, but the price paid was his. Being fired from Little Helpers is an enormous blot on your copy book. Whether this interface with the Anglican church in Winnipeg was a signal event in his spiritual journey I do not know. It is certain that an earlier experience in the Anglican Cathedral church in Plymouth was also a watershed moment when he was four years of age. He admired greatly, the garb of the Dean, a very fine fellow, of whom he remarked, "When I grow up, I want to be dressed up like God" . We never know the inklings that proceed to one's chosen priestly vocation! Up from the mustard seed!