What Shall It Be Today? The Silver Hoops? The Silver Rings? The Silver Leaves? The *Other* Silver Hoops?

I used to accessorize more, back when I was a reader of Seventeen magazine. I had different kinds of necklaces and pins and bracelets, and I carefully chose my earrings each day. I had scarves and knew how to wear them, I guess.

These days, I admire other ladies’ necklaces and bracelets, and, really, does anybody go out without a cute/charming/toasty/colorful scarf these days? At least besides me?

I don’t remember when I stopped being accessorized. I guess it just became more trouble that I was willing to give. And thank goodness ladies aren’t expected to wear hats and gloves to church any more!

Anyway, now, I always wear a watch, not so much as a fashion statement but as a way to know what time it is. I usually wear earrings. I’m pretty plain. And apparently, people have noticed. Well, children have noticed.

My church works with a nearby elementary school, providing various kinds of support for pupils and teachers and families. I volunteer on Wednesdays for Reading Club. I spend lunchtime with three fourth-grade girls, and we are reading our way through Dear Mr. Henshaw. We don’t actually have a whole lot of time, as lunch is just 30 minutes, and five minutes or so are taken up with going through the line, getting food, and coming together in our reading space. Then they have to eat. Week before last, one girl, let’s call her, ummm, “Meg,” was finished eating first, and I handed her a book.

She opened it up to her bookmarked place and started to read aloud. After a couple of pages (and the end of a journal entry by Leigh, the book’s protagonist), I asked another girl (oh, let’s say “Amy”) to read next. As “Amy” started, “Meg” held up a package of aqua blue, translucent rubber band-type things. “Do you like this color?” she whispered. “Yes,” I whispered back. “It’s a beautiful color. Like you fingernails” (which were also painted aqua blue). As we listened to “Amy” read, “Meg” was quickly bending and looping and connecting the blue bands together. Really, she should have been following along (each girl has a book), but I like our time together not to be stressful, and if connecting loops together was interesting and relaxing to her, then she could listen and understand what “Amy” was reading.

Then, “Jo” had a turn to read, and “Meg” kept on looping. The other two reading groups began to wrap things up; lunchtime was about over. “Oh, no,” we all said. “Jo” quickly read a few more lines, I stopped her to explain something, and it was time to leave. “Meg” was hurriedly tying off the last loop.

“Here,” she said, handing it to me. “It’s for you.”

I must have look surprised, or confused, when I took it. “It’s a bracelet,” she explained. Possibly she thought I might not know, and it was probably a good thing she told me. I’d have figured it out I suppose, but it was nice to be sure. “Thank you so much,” I said, and I wore it the rest of the day.

My new hand-made-just-for me jewelry collection

Sunday morning, during Sunday School with the preschoolers, a little girl arrived, all cute and expectant and smiley, holding a string of laced wooden beads. She held it out to me.

I sat down in a nearby chair, so we could be face-to-face. “Tell me about this,” I said.

“I made it,” she said (a girl of few words).

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“It’s for you,” she said.

I put it on and wore it all day. To worship service. To a committee meeting afterward. To Wal-Mart.

I was sorry I didn’t have on my new bracelet, too.

Little children, let us stop just saying we love people; let us really love them, and show it by our actions.

1 John 3:18 The Living Bible (TLB)

This past Wednesday, our Reading Club time was short. They had a different lunch schedule because it’s testing week, and for the few minutes we had, they just wanted to chat instead of reading. We talked about their weekends and the Black History Month program the previous evening. As they were leaving, I pulled up the sleeve of my sweater and showed “Meg” her bracelet on my wrist. “Oh,” she said, pulling up her own sleeve and showing the half-dozen or so bracelets she had there. She pulled off one that was pink and black and lime green. “I made this one for you, too,” she said, handing it over. “It looks good with my sweater,” I said, putting it on. And it does.

It’s a small effort I make each Sunday and Wednesday, to show a little love. I’m getting back way more than I’m giving, and that’s not even counting the jewelry.