**Names and initials have been changed to protect the mischievous.**
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I taught a children’s class at our church. Since we have church on Saturday nights as well as Sundays, it’s a little hard to call it Sunday school. But that’s basically what Club 45 is – Sunday school for 4th and 5th graders. Out of all my years of ministry, the years spent in Club 45 were truly some of my happiest. Keep that in mind.
Fast forward to yesterday. My daughter and I were in the car and she pointed to a teenager walking on the sidewalk. She said, “Oh! That’s C.” I asked if they were friends from the bus, school, church, etc. She said C used to ride her bus, but must have moved because she hadn’t seen C on there in a while. Then she said, “C is S’s twin.”
Cue the post traumatic stress disorder flashbacks.
In an instant my mind went back to that September. That September in which they showed up to Club 45 for 3 or 4 weeks. Remember up above when I said those had been some of the happiest ministry years of my life? Those weeks were not. At one point during those weeks I had to turn my back on the class and force myself not to cry. People, I’m no wimp. Thanks to at home training from my son, I can handle just about any kid situation thrown my way.
When I turned back around to face the class – mind you it had been less that 5 seconds – one of the twins was dancing in front of me. Yes, it’s funny now, but at the time I almost passed out. You see, that night I had exactly 42 kids in my class and no helper. And they all knew it. ALL of them, my daughter included. I spent most of the rest of the night trying not to sound too shrill or panicked.
And somehow I managed not to curl up into the fetal position and suck my thumb until the car ride home.
My daughter remembers none of it. But she did tell me, “I can see them doing that. They’re crazy in a good way. I just love them.”
It’s funny how you can be driving along and one teenager walking on the sidewalk can bring back very distinct feelings in an instant. I’m years away from those handful of weeks and I can laugh about it now. And remember it as sweet times.