Running around the muddy yard, the 10 or so kids didn't seem to mind playing tag eternally, until one kid said, "This time you're 'La Llorona'!" I didn't understand what he meant and had never heard the term, so I asked him to explain it to me.
"While we are sleeping, the bad, old lady comes to steal us out of our beds!"
"She lives down there!" another one added, pointing to the basement, gated off with iron.
I'm really into in-the-moment teaching opportunities and realized this was one of them. I needed God's help. I looked into the wide eyes of the kids staring up at me, equally hopeful of and terrified at the prospect of me chasing them, pretending to be La Llorona.
"Is there anyone who can stop La Llorona? Anyone stronger?"
"Is there anyone who can stop La Llorona? Anyone stronger?"
The kids were unanimous: "No way!"
I looked puzzled. "Are you sure?"
One sturdy, young kid with a penchant for biting me instead of hugging me shouted, "God is!!"
I looked up and out at the rest of the kids. "Really?" I asked. "Is God stronger than La Llorona?"
I looked up and out at the rest of the kids. "Really?" I asked. "Is God stronger than La Llorona?"
By this time they had caught on: "YES!!" They shouted in unison.
"If the bad, old lady shows up, do you know how to ask God to help you?" My eyes panned the small crowd.
No one had an answer.
I shouted mine: "En el nombre de Dios, vayase!"
Heads perked up.
"Say it together!"
"In the name of God, get out of here!", the kids shouted in unison. (Okay, I realized later I should have taught them "In the name of JESUS, get out of here!" so I'll make that adjustment the next time we play!)
We were ready to test it out. I backed into the far corner of the yard and waited. They scattered...a few brave ones tiptoeing as close as they dared in the few seconds just before I...started moving toward them...lifting my hands as if to grab someone...but before I could take more than two steps, the kids shouted, almost in unison:
"Say it together!"
"In the name of God, get out of here!", the kids shouted in unison. (Okay, I realized later I should have taught them "In the name of JESUS, get out of here!" so I'll make that adjustment the next time we play!)
We were ready to test it out. I backed into the far corner of the yard and waited. They scattered...a few brave ones tiptoeing as close as they dared in the few seconds just before I...started moving toward them...lifting my hands as if to grab someone...but before I could take more than two steps, the kids shouted, almost in unison:
"EN EL NOMBRE DE DIOS, VAYASE!"
I clapped my hands over my ears and shrank back in horror. I fled back to my corner and looked up, shocked, at the kids. "You stopped me! How did you do that??"
They were thrilled to explain that now they all knew how to stop La Llorona!
A few turns later (and no one got tired of this game!), someone said, "We should all be laying down, because she only comes at night, to grab us out of our beds." There was something awfully sweet and sad about how truly scared those kids were as they lay down on the ground and peeked up at me, probably wondering if their short prayer was really going to work when they were in a more vulnerable position. And it did! You should have seen their faces as they realized that calling on Jesus to save them could stop the scariest person they could think of.
I know kids all around the world have stories of the "bogeyman" who is coming to get them. How awesome to be reminded that it only takes a few words to banish the strongest negative force we might encounter.
One Halloween we had a all-night vigil at a liturgical church I was attending. (Basically, we prayed and sang all night.) I left my shift around 10.30pm and as I walked down the steps to a lower parking area, I looked up at the small but towering church. There were sparse, autumn-shorn branches breaking across the building's vertical lines. It was a cloudy night with an almost-full moon. The scene was painted with every shade of gray and black. At the top of the church, spike-like crosses soared, looking even more menacing than that imposing sky--but in a strong, True way. I wondered: Do we worship a more ominous Good?
They were thrilled to explain that now they all knew how to stop La Llorona!
A few turns later (and no one got tired of this game!), someone said, "We should all be laying down, because she only comes at night, to grab us out of our beds." There was something awfully sweet and sad about how truly scared those kids were as they lay down on the ground and peeked up at me, probably wondering if their short prayer was really going to work when they were in a more vulnerable position. And it did! You should have seen their faces as they realized that calling on Jesus to save them could stop the scariest person they could think of.
I know kids all around the world have stories of the "bogeyman" who is coming to get them. How awesome to be reminded that it only takes a few words to banish the strongest negative force we might encounter.
One Halloween we had a all-night vigil at a liturgical church I was attending. (Basically, we prayed and sang all night.) I left my shift around 10.30pm and as I walked down the steps to a lower parking area, I looked up at the small but towering church. There were sparse, autumn-shorn branches breaking across the building's vertical lines. It was a cloudy night with an almost-full moon. The scene was painted with every shade of gray and black. At the top of the church, spike-like crosses soared, looking even more menacing than that imposing sky--but in a strong, True way. I wondered: Do we worship a more ominous Good?
