Little Ones to Him Belong

On Sunday mornings I am privileged to teach a class of adorable preschoolers. Curtis thought it was something that might take away the “baby bug”, but I’m afraid he is mistaken! The children range in age, from newly 3 to almost 6, and each week I learn so much. Not only do I learn as I prepare for the lesson, but I get to see the world through the eyes of people that haven’t been on the earth for very long. Although they are younger in age, and younger in their walks of faith, they teach me.

Shelby is a Sunday morning “regular.” Any given Sunday, she will come prepared with her children’s Bible that she gleefully complains is “sooo heavy!” and then pretends to fall over. She is also one of our resident comedians. Her joke makes me laugh every time. And while I know she is merely noticing the size of the Bible in comparison to her small frame, I can’t help but think and pray that as she grows older, the picture book she holds in her little hands never becomes too “heavy” or burdensome. I hope she is able to find freedom in that heavy book, and moreover, in her Creator.

Antonio is four years old. His family regularly attends the church but, due to the option of attending two different service hours, I only see Antonio half of the time. I have been delighted to see Antonio’s social growth over the passing weeks. The first time I met Antonio I couldn’t get any words out of him- he preferred to speak in snorts. Yes, snorts. Pig snorts to be exact. Of course, I couldn’t help but laugh and even join in sometimes. As endearing as it was, I hoped for the day when Antonio might feel comfortable enough to use his words. This past week, I was not prepared for what happened when class was over. Antonio’s mom was at the door to pick him up; he ran towards her and I thought that was the last I’d see of him until next week. Upon handing his mom his craft and lesson book, he immediately turned around and ran towards me, arms open and grinning. I quickly crouched down so I could give him a proper hug and not an armful of legs. (Which turned out to be a really good decision because I’m sure his running jump would have made me lose my balance) He didn’t say anything, but he gave me the best little person bear hug I have ever received. His actions were far more special than any words he could have used that day.

Needless to say, the pain of waking up early on Sunday morning quickly turns to joy. I am so richly blessed to have the chance to interact with these children of God. It is an ever-present reminder for me that I, too, am a child of God; still growing and still remembering that where the spirit of the Lord is, there is indeed freedom.