A few weeks back we got a letter in the mail from our daughters' Sunday school asking for parent volunteers at church. And God help me, something moved my heart and I emailed the coordinator letting her know, “Yes, I’d love to volunteer!.”
I’m not a teacher. I rarely ever babysat. And I have only a bare-bones understanding of the Bible, not to mention all the stories I was supposed to learn, but somehow never got around to.
This was emphasized in my mind once a couple years back when I went out to coffee with some ladies I met in church not too long after moving to Oklahoma. They were planning a vacation Bible school class.
“So we’re doing the story about Jesus and the well,” one mom said. The others nodded in agreement. I nodded for the sake of nodding. Jesus and the what?
“I think we could maybe do blue jello in cups, like water in a well?”
Everyone agreed that was a good idea. I agreed because who doesn’t agree to Jello? J-E-L-L-O and B-I-B-L-E have the same number of letters, so I think I’m on to something here.
Back to the point. A couple weeks ago was my first time, along with one other adult, winging it in the 2-year-old’s room. There were eight kiddos there with us, and fortunately, it mostly went well. We sang songs. I read the story of Adam and Eve (gotta start with the basics, right?) We tried to play duck-duck-goose, but ultimately had to defer to follow the leader when the kids simply didn’t get the idea of duck-duck-goose (apparently that is 3-year-old room material.) One kid pooped his pants. No one cried.
So I guess things went ok. My next turn in the room is mother’s day weekend. Wish me luck.