Through the Red Doors
Vanilla Bean helps a little girl discover that church can feel like home
Vanilla Bean knew many important things about St. Luke’s.
She knew where the sun made warm patches on the floor.
She knew which children dropped the most cookie crumbs.
She knew the sound of Fr. Nick’s footsteps before he came around the corner.
And she knew the big red doors better than anyone.
The red doors opened into the narthex, where everyone gathered before church.
The narthex had soft carpet underfoot.
People talked there and laughed there.
They drank coffee and ate cookies from little napkins.
Vanilla Bean liked the narthex very much.
There was always something to sniff.
There was always someone to greet.
And sometimes, if she was lucky, there was a crumb to eat.
One Sunday morning, the red doors opened and in came a little girl in a pink sweater, holding tight to her grownup’s hand.
She stopped just inside.
The room was busy.
Voices here.
Laughter there.
People everywhere.
The little girl pressed close to her grownup’s leg.
Vanilla Bean stood up.
Tap, tap, tap went her paws across the carpet.
She walked over slowly and sat right in front of the little girl.
The little girl blinked.
Vanilla Bean blinked back.
Then Vanilla Bean gave one small wag.
Then another.
Then her whole back end wiggled.
The little girl smiled.
“That’s Vanilla Bean,” Fr. Nick said as he passed by. “She likes to welcome people.”
The little girl reached out one careful hand.
Pat.
“She’s soft,” the girl whispered.
“She is,” said Ms. Leandra, Fr. Nick’s wife.
Beyond the narthex were the brown wooden doors with the little windows.
Those doors opened into the nave, where the pews sat in three sections with two aisles between them.
The floor there was cool slate tile.
And in the very back, tucked behind the pews on the left, was the soft space.
It had a rug, a little table and chairs, crayons, coloring pages, and big plush animals for hugging.
Vanilla Bean turned toward the brown doors.
Tap, tap, tap.
Then she looked back.
Come along, her eyes seemed to say.
The little girl and her grownup followed Vanilla Bean through the doors and into the quiet nave.
For just a moment, the room seemed very big.
Then the little girl saw the soft space.
“Oh,” she said.
She hurried to the little table, picked up a crayon, and hugged one of the plush animals close.
Vanilla Bean gave a happy little huff.
Yes.
That was just right.
During the service, the little girl colored and listened with her grownup nearby.
And every now and then, Vanilla Bean checked on her.
By the end, the little girl did not look worried at all.
She looked like she belonged.
When it was time to go, she waved from the red doors.
“Bye, Vanilla Bean!”
Vanilla Bean sat up tall and wagged her tail.
Then the red doors closed, and St. Luke’s grew quiet.
Vanilla Bean turned in a circle and laid down with a soft sigh.
Welcoming people was good work.
Very good work.
And Vanilla Bean knew something true.
Some welcomes happened at the red doors.
Some happened over coffee and cookies.
And some happened when a child found just the right place to be.
