The ''Lily ool'' Students find encouragement through attendance T here were certain things at Harding that you just didn't question. My roommate habitually went to the library to study and left her books in the room. I didn't ask. Fifty girls in suntan oil crowded Cathcart deck on February twelfth. I said nothing. Half the student body spent the year munching the nights away only to crash out between every class, and during some. Sense? We did not demand sense - we accepted and continued on. At first I thought it was a fluke. They announced the lilypool devo to take place on the Benson steps. Fine, thought t perhaps it is due to the sacriligious stench rising from the growing slime on the water. The next week we met in 'Heritage lobby and then back to the Benson steps. Oh, of course! We couldn't meet at the lilypool because of the recent soapsud slimicide attempt. At one point I was sure that it was due to the skinned and blooddrained cat left floating in the water by a pack of biology majors. Well, as it seems, it eventually migrated to the recording studio and settled there on at least a semipermanent basis. Once I went to the recording studio and found a note taped to the door. LILYPOOL DEVO MOVED TO THE LILYPOOL. During the devotional I heard two seniors muttering behind me, "What'd they have it here for? That's stupid." Like I said, some things you simply did not question. One of my most vivid memories is of one "spontaneous devo" night when I was trying to follow Jerry Savage's speedsinging version of "When We All Get to Heaven" while chewing two pieces of jumbo double bubble. At one point I nearly choked, and I'm almost sure that several people cast me cutting glares. Embarrassed, I hunted in fervent silence for a way to dispose of it. Finding nothing, I contemplated swallowing it only to be rescued by my survival instinct. Finally, I discreetly removed the blob and held it quietly in my hand. The song ended and Jerry bounded to his feet. "Ok folks, let's all stand up and grab each other's hands for this next one!" Thanks, Jerry. In panic, I stuck it to the floor only to realize during the next song that the boy beside me could not keep his eyes off the pink strand dangling from the end of my finger. I smiled demurely at him and sang on. When we sat back down, 1 caretully sat on - without actually sitting on - the piece of gum. In the meantime, a host of late-comers had gathered in the doorway finding no entrance through the crowd of cross-legged warblers. So, of course, Jumping Jerry, full of smiles, lept to his fet insisting that we all move in about ten feet. Fine. I grabbed my gum and began to scoot, only to notice a thin layer of goo which had not come with me. I was honestly sorry for the thin, retiring boy who sat in my place. As the devo neared it's close, I foresaw the inevitable hand-holding finale of "A Common Love." My mind quickly sc~nned the alternatives and then covered them again. I could put the gum back on the Comfort counts. The informal atmosphere of a Lily Pool devotional encourages students in attendance throughout the semester. Ellen Richardson and Robyn Phillips, both of Memphis, Tennessee , display two of the many "comfort " positions. - photo by Danny Meeks. 28 Lily Pool Devotional floor. No, too much guilt involved. I could refuse to hold the hand of the boy next to me. No, too many social repercussions. My only two options left were to either make a mad dash for the door muttering "curfew, curfew," or to simply resume chewing it. I chose the last, only to realize that even that might be impossible. Each finger was quite securely clamped to the other in a permanent fist. Fast and furiously, I worked it into a ball and popped the only slightly gritty mass into my mouth just before the cue to stand and sing. Attempting to hold hands loosely, I glanced over at the boy beside me to find him looking at me with eyes gleaming, not with mirth, but with tears! He smiled a brotherly-affectionate smile and squeezed my hand in a loving grip. The song swelled in volume and filled the room as hundreds of people lifted their voices in harmony. All clubs and all · classes were holding hands, some arm-inarm, all smiling and full of love for the others. "Now this is what Harding is all about!" I thought. The song ended and as we prayed, I realized that God really was there, right in the midst of us; and, although many had tests the next day, they had chosen to meet together simply because they had wanted to. I thanked the Lord silently for the chance to stand together with so many Christians, and decided not to worry about how to let go of the hand in mine. J1t - Laura M. Daniel
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