Summer Fun at Vacation Bible School

 As a kid, I loved going to Vacation Bible School. Even as a four-year-old, I could tell the day’s structure was perfect to educate a youngster. Children, teachers, helpers, and leaders gathered in the sanctuary to begin the session with prayer, music, and a chance to plunk coins noisily into a metal offering plate. At that age, I didn’t appreciate the time grown-up leaders spent organizing classes, activities, and snacks.

Back then, it seemed like everything just happened. It never occurred to me our music teacher not only had to play the piano, he or she had to keep track of what songs students had sung  the past few years of VBS and select new ones.

 As we marched into crafts, I never stopped to think that our teacher had to come up with age appropriate and inexpensive projects for at least four classes. That individual also had to make sure the activities weren’t repeats of past years and that they were difficult enough to challenge older youngsters but easy enough that little ones didn’t end up with glue and cotton balls in their hair and up their noses.

Those who taught Bible stories didn’t have to worry so much about repeating the story as they did about what a three-year-old can do compared to a fifth grader. Ten-year-olds can interact with the actual lesson much better than those little ones! Questions big kids ask usually have something to do with the message. That isn’t necessarily true in the toddler session where stories of cats, dogs, bugs, and other subjects can derail the teacher’s original topic.

Our recreation coaches made similar adjustments. What engages a big kid is usually different from what entertains a tyke. If a little one can’t pull the trigger on the squirt gun, the water games won’t be fun. Twenty minutes take forever if activities don’t match interests and abilities. When they do, times zips by.

With all this play and studying, participants needed an energy boost—just the job for the snack committee. After townspeople donate goodies, the kitchen crew manages those twenty-minute shifts with military precision. They prepare, serve, and clean while navigating around energetic little ones.   

Just as they did when I was a kid, church communities still unite each summer to offer local children a chance to learn about God while having a glorious time. To get momentum going, someone volunteers to organize the whole shebang. This person usually manages a home and day job in addition to picking VBS curriculum, finding helpers, ordering materials, and setting dates. Remember, this event takes place in the summer so that means coordinators work around vacations, fairs, and ball games.

In modern times as well as the past, little ones entertain and inspire grandparents, parents, and neighbors with energetic songs and memorized Bible verses in the final program. That short presentation lasts about as long as it takes to eat Thanksgiving dinner and reminds VBS staff that their jobs are important. Like that famed holiday dinner, VBS requires hours of planning and effort before everyone enjoys the outcome.

The Ol’ Swimming Hole

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

“Marco. Gotcha!” 

“You peeked.”

“No, I didn’t.  I caught you fair and square.”

I loved daily visits to the pool when we stayed with our grandparents during the summer. From the moment sunlight flooded into my upstairs bedroom to pop my eyelids open in the morning until the lifeguards opened the doors, I had only one thought on my mind--to swim until my swim-suit wearing, whistle blowing heroes shut lights off and locked gates. It didn’t take long after I’d checked in  with my season ticket before I was out the dressing room door and in head tuck-diving position near the deep end ladder. Kansas summers were for swimming, and I lived to splash, race, and dive in those refreshing blue waters.

As a youngster in the 60s and d 70s, I thought everyone took Red Cross swimming lessons and could stroke their way across the pool so they were allowed to go off the diving board. What a surprise when I discovered that many older people weren’t swimmers. When I innocently asked why they hadn’t gone to the pool to learn, the answer startled me.

 As youngsters, their community didn’t have a pool. Oftentimes, it wasn’t until the WPA built one that folks could enjoy seeing the bottom of a swimming hole. Those elders had done their splashing in creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes if they swam at all.

During those dry years, many didn’t have a pond where they could dogpaddle on a hot day. As a result men like my uncle in Southwest Kansas joined the navy during WW II and learned to swim as an adult in military training. He wasn’t alone in this experience. What I considered a childhood rite of passage didn’t occur because there wasn’t anywhere to swim.

To a girl who’d learned the Australian crawl not long after she’d learned to walk, that required mulling.  No pools in these hot, western Kansas communities! And what was this WPA people mentioned?  Grandpa straightened me out on that. He explained it was the Works Progress Administration, designed to provide jobs for those who needed work during The Great Depression. These individuals built pools, park shelters,  and golf courses among other projects. 

When I visit towns like Ellis, Hays, Holton, and Herington, I marvel at the attractive stone structures that bear testament to this difficult time in this country. These pools were state of the art in terms of design and filtration systems. In addition, they weren’t useful only as watering holes where kids frolicked on scorching days. Skilled architects needed work as much as the laborers and masons who dug holes, poured cement, and set stone. These gifted artists designed attached concession stands and dressing rooms to please the eye as well serve specific functions.

I learned the WPA built 805 pools across America during the 30s and 40s. Communities continue to preserve and update them so that young and old can cool off during the dog days of summer. While not every town got a WPA swimming hole, word got around about how nice these were. Today, you rarely visit a Kansas community on a hot day without hearing youngsters hollering “Marco Polo” as they blindly chase friends through the water.

Planting for Butterflies

It’s funny how humans can plant parsley in their garden because they want to dry it as seasoning only to discover this action changes planting practices forever. This happened to my hilltop garden and me a few years ago after I tucked my first batch of breath-freshening herb into soil that was already home to lavender, chives, and oregano. I’ve continued this practice at my new address where I sowed the equivalent of a plant welcome mat for many varieties of visiting butterflies.

Once I introduced parsley to my herb bed, I noticed a big black butterfly with blue dots on funny looking wings fluttering about the new green leaves. This required photos, which I then posted on Facebook. A friend who is a veteran lepidopterist or butterfly expert soon identified my visitor as a swallowtail. I could have discovered my creature’s identity online if I’d looked, but doing it this way prompted my contact to ask if I’d also planted fennel as a butterfly attractant.

That question made me stop for a moment. I’d planted that parsley for me, not insects—even pretty ones. Her question led to my considering adding to my garden for the sake of creatures and not my taste buds. Once my friend slipped this noisy thought into my head, I visited the greenhouse to buy fennel, dill, and a butterfly bush. Colorful action in the little fenced off area increased as my thriving vegetation enticed more and more vivid visitors.

I googled Kansas Lepidoptera sites to learn that people who create butterfly havens introduce both host and nectar plantings. Hosts include dill, fennel, parsley, alfalfa, clover, hollyhocks, sunflowers, and milkweed, among others. Various trees and forbs also nurture a variety of butterfly offspring. Flowering plants provide nectar as an adult insect sipping beverage while host plants offer a nursery for egg laying and caterpillar nutrition support. Spend time online, and you’ll soon have a clear idea of which winged critters will find your yard desirable.

It didn’t take long to understand the benefit of expanding my garden. While we had scores of little white butterflies hovering over cabbages and yellow ones that liked alfalfa, we didn’t see many lovely swallowtails, painted ladies, viceroys, admirals, and monarchs. (Kansas has enough species of butterflies to keep your mind busy learning their names and attributes for months.) Once I added more herbs and other butterfly attractants, we saw even more delicate winged guests regularly.

By late summer, not only could we observe these flying works of art, but also we noted their colorful offspring in the form of caterpillars munching away at the herbs I’d planted. I hate to think of all the years viewing such treasures was a happy accident because I hadn’t intentionally attracted these creatures. Lately, I’ve added an orange milkweed and plan to introduce several pink flowered native monarch host plants next spring. My plan is to see monarch caterpillars filling up on newly added garden goodies during the annual migration a year from now.

This summer, I’ve had adult swallowtails gobbling nectar and  their caterpillars mowing down herbs. I haven’t managed to find a pupa yet, but it’ll happen. They’re bound to be hidden nearby. Perhaps I should more closely examine the plantings I’ve added so I could watch butterflies.