Bonaparte

The second week of July started off with filling in for the pastor at Marengo United Methodist to talk about Change a Child's Story. For being a church of roughly fifty people, I was very impressed with how much they are movers and shakers. The lay people are very active in ministry, and church service blended with meeting as they talked about their ideas for getting involved with reading in their community. 

 

The next day, I was off to Bonaparte, where there's always a wonderful crew of kids who help me unload. The kids kept coming, and we had 31 the first day (many of them preschoolers.) Most of the taller people were occupied with the very shortest, so it was a very good thing that the upper elementary kids were so…almost aggressively helpful, haha. I'd better explain what I mean by that. 

Case in point, from my journal that Wednesday:  

So when I get there this morning, there aren’t a lot of adults there yet. In the middle of my trying to troubleshoot yesterday’s video problems, the kids are coming up to me every five seconds. “Can I talk to you? My brother keeps sitting by me and I don’t like it.” “Allison, we have a problem!” “How do we make this work?” “Can I be the science teacher today?” “When should I take the offering?” “Allison, can I take the offering?” “Allison, can I be the science teacher today?” “Can I help her take the offering?” “Allison, can I run the computer instead of doing the science today?” “Allison? Can I HELP her do the puppet?” “Can I help?” “Can I?” “Allison, can I HELP her be the science teacher today?” We are ten minutes past our start time and the natives are growing restless. My mind begins to think unmissionary-like thoughts, like how if I hear my name again I might just scream. But right in the middle of that, right as I’m about to start, one little boy (who happened to be playing the Spirit in that day's Bible story skit) comes up to me and said, “Allison? You are like a grandmother to me,” and he gives me this wonderful hug. He fits right under my chin, so he cannot see the huge laugh I am holding back. I thank him whole-heartedly. I swallow the laugh and it fills me with strength, and in this way we started Bible school today. 

 

More wisdom from small humans:

I was casting a Bible story skit and asked one boy, “Would you be Jesus for me this morning?” He replied with far more than his nine years. I wish I could remember his exact words, but it was something like “Of course. It would be an honor to be Jesus this morning.” I was struck by what we had just said: I think everybody we come into contact with asks us, “Would you be Jesus for me this morning?” Rarely do they use those words, but the request is real and you can see it in their eyes. May I always respond as gracefully as this little boy did.