Dear Partner in Ministry,
When my daughters were very little, they had what are known as “transitional objects.” Theirs were soft and well worn stuffed animals that provided psychological comfort and companionship at bedtime and in unfamiliar places. These transitional (or “comfort”) objects, a concept that originated with pediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott in the 1950s, are said to reduce anxiety and enable children to gain independence and gradually differentiate from their parents, a journey that stretches over the course of childhood. The beauty of these objects is that they can go wherever you go, they endure love and neglect, and they are patiently waiting whenever we turn to them for comfort and a hug. These objects remind children that they are not alone, while also propelling them forward into independence.
This concept got me thinking about the transitional objects that offer us comfort, companionship, and courage in our faith. Pocket crosses, prayer stones, and rosaries come to mind. So, too, does the Bible that one of our rising 5th graders packed as she headed off to sleepaway camp for the first time this summer; and the fuzzy sheep given out during an Easter children’s sermon that has taken up residence among one of our children’s beloved collection of stuffed animals; and perhaps those star words I see adorning your fridges or dayplanners count, too. My maternal grandfather’s WW2 US Army pocket Bible is one of mine. What is yours? I'd love to hear about it. Send me a note, a photo, or just stop me at church and tell me about your transitional faith object —I have a feeling we all have something tangible that accompanies us.
Much like bread and wine - visible signs of God’s invisible grace - these objects are never really just objects. I like to think they remind us that God — transcendent and omnipresent — is also close at hand, wherever we go, and that even ordinary things can carry us forward with comfort, companionship, and courage across a journey of faith that stretches over a lifetime.
peace,
Meghan
