lullaby on a water taxi

Last week, water-taxi-ing from The Island to Hitlerville AKA Almirante, a little Ngobe boy, accompanied by a sibling and his parents, was basically moved out of his seat by someone I FELT was being child disrespectful. He was really squished by four adults and two of us with big asses. I asked his mom's permission for him to sit in my lap; he did. Now you remember I am the one who ADORES little girls, so this was an amazing feat on my part. The waves were big and bouncy; not stormy but rough. No one wants a child who lives on the water to experience fear so, with our life jackets on (it is required by the safety patrol or something), we are bouncing and the boat levitates for long seconds before BOOMING back into the water. I laugh and teach a new English word: "WHOOPEEE!" (too many years in TX I suppose). Not even a third of the way across, I feel this wee one's heaviness as I see his eyes grow heavy with sleep. (napping on this wild ride, what a great and amazing thing!). I cuddle him next to me in a more comfortable position in all our kapok orange safety devices and I decide that I'll lullaby. I don't know why; it just seemed the thing to do. I began by humming Beethoven's 9th, hoping this marvelous music, Maestro, forgive me, will go straight into this child's unconscious and if he never hears Beethoven played and sung as he should be played and sung, this darling one will have heard one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, even if it's by a poor voice musician, I, but I can hum and lah-lah-lah lullaby quite well. This darling sinks deeper and it seems time to move to something else like "Michael Row the Boat Ashore, " followed by Bach's "Sheep Gently Graze," a bit from Abbey Road, Puff the Magic Dragon, then "We Shall Overcome." By the second round of We Shall Overcome I realised people were SINGING along!! It was a moment of goosebumps and awe. We reached the Almirante dock safety and I relinquished this deeply sleeping boy to his parents. And the last time I saw him, he was sleeping in his daddy's arms and I'd been hugged and thanked by his mom.....Church doesn't happen for me in the buildings here; Church happens "on the way," on the streets, and out on the water. I'm the madre/priest (still a deacon of the NCIAR) of "along the way." Too bad the bish doesn't see it this way.