When I was about four I think, or maybe five, I started going to Sunday School. I thought I was SO cool because I was in the kindergarten class... but I wasn't in kindergarten yet [for some reason I was in a class older in Sunday School my entire sunday school life, and Jarvis usually threatened to tell everyone that really I was only a 1st grader, not a 2nd grader, or a 2nd grader not really and 3rd grader, and so...which always freaked me out]. Anyway my first day ever, age four [or five]... I remember we had a story about stone soup. I don't remember the story at all. I probably wasn't listening because thats just the kind of kid I was. I just remember we actually made a stone soup, and that upset me for two reasons. One I hated soup, and two I didn't get the stone in mine, so in my mind, I lost. A couple years later, I was in 1st grade [really kindergarten], and we were talking about how Jesus healed a blind man. The teacher had us close our eyes and imagine being blind. I thought I was really smart...and really I was. When she said... "When you are blind, everything is black...you can't see anything." I said, " Actually, if I look towards the window, its more of a red from the sun...so you CAN see SOMETHING." That same year the church offered free daycare for a saturday so moms could go Christmas shopping without the kids. I was so mad that I was not in the same room as my brother... I think I cried the entire day [helping in Chaseplace has shown me that a lot of kids do that, so I feel the four year olds pain when her brother is goign into the nursery or her sister is heading down the hall towards Amanda's class :) ]. Other memories included playing hot potato with a plastic piggy bank. The same piggy bank that halfway through the game hit my in the lip and made me get a bloody lip on my favorite dress. My first reaction to blood on my finger that I wiped from my mouth was to cry [come on, I was six. All six year olds cry]. Then it was to never, EVER come back again. I remember going into the little bathroom under the stairs to clean my lip, and the one girl that I feared most in my entire sunday school class came to help me. I was usually kind of intimidated by everyone in my class... mainly because I was younger and they were older and probably smarter and definetly cooler. Anyway her name was Kirsten, and I could not believe she was helping me! My entire life [six years] I was afraid of her. But when I was crying and my lip was bleeding she was the first to jump up and help. I don't really know what my point is. I guess maybe it is that just because someone is older and seems smarter and cooler and everything, doesn't mean that you have to be scared of them. In my case, they can be really nice and helpful when you least expect it.
