DON'T GO WITH THAT PALE-FACED LADY -SHE EATS CHILDREN

 

                 DON’T GO WITH THAT PALE-FACED LADY –SHE EATS CHILDREN

Winkie the Bear peeked out of my bulging tote-bag of teaching materials.  I had a cute flannelgraph presentation ready for teaching the three-to-five-year-olds a lesson about creation.  Earlier in the week, the pastor of the Cape Croker United Church had telephoned me and asked me to teach that age group during the service.  The class would be held next door, in the manse basement.  We had attended the church only once, and had been on the reserve for only a week and a half.  Long before we had arrived, however, the “moccasin express”(word of mouth taken-oh so quickly- to reserve residents via walking to each other’s homes, to stores and meeting-places) had gone ahead of us to spread the news about the new “Mennonites”: that Rien was a market gardener and I an elementary school teacher.

I could see a family in one of the back pews: the father silent and unsmiling; the mother settling her three children, shushing, warning, handing out snacks and crayons; the youngest girl, about three or four, pressed tightly against her mother, looking around shyly with dark eyes from her safe and comforting shelter.  I could hear the bustle of families settling into their seats, smell cheap floral perfumes and the polished wood of the fine old pews. I saw neatly combed hair, clean jeans and shirts, little girls’ pink plastic purses.   I sensed reverence.

“Dis?”

“Thank you!”

One-and-a-half-year-old Curtis was trotting back and forth handing out hymn books, taking them back and trotting off to someone else, as toddlers like to do.

Pastor Cliff began the service:

“I’ve asked Mrs. Van Mil to teach the three-to-five-year-olds during the service.  Sunday school will be held next door at the manse, in the basement.  Frances, you may take the children now.”

I stood up, beckoning the children and smiling encouragingly.  Children usually trust me and are never afraid of me.  Yet on this occasion the children simply stared, clung more closely to their mothers, and, if prodded, began to cry, balking, refusing to move.  After all, I was an adult from a different race whom they had never seen before.  And I would be taking them away, not only from their parents, but to another building to do who knew what to them?  Finally, the parents told the older brothers and sisters to take the little ones to their class. A long line of children, each preschooler surrounded by several older siblings, began to wend its way to the manse.  Once there, the older children, after settling in their little brothers and sisters, settled themselves as well, permanently, it seemed.

Shuffle!  Scrape!  Move the tiny kindergarten chairs around to accommodate all the children.  Thank heavens for a few adult chairs.  Solemn eyes staring at me: some three-year-old eyes, some six-, eight- twelve-, fourteen-year old eyes and everything in between.  Toss Winkie the Bear.  Introduce myself and ask the children’s names.  Take out my guitar and teach the children some action songs.

 Laugh like circus clowns:

“Ho-Ho-Ho-Hosannah!

  Ha-Ha-Hallelujah!

  He-He-He-He saved me,

 Now I’ve got the joy of the Lord!”

Hmmm-mmm! Musical group. That was fun! Now, divide the children into two groups.  This side, stand up and sing “Hallelu-, Hallelu-, Hallelu-, Hallelujah!”

Now, sit down, while the other side stands up quickly to sing ”Praise ye the Lord!” Up and down, up and down, merry confusion when the word order reverses; laughter, fun. The ice is broken.  Now to an impromptu lesson:

“Who made everything?  Who made the stars and the trees, the oceans, giraffes, flowers?”  The Bible starts in Genesis with God as Creator.  It seems a logical place for me to begin.  The children discuss their favourite things in nature.  I take out crayons, and have the children draw pictures and help the little ones write their names.  It is the best I can do for the older children with no notice.

Someone comes to tell us that the adult church service is finished.  The children run off with their families.  I plan a full flannelboard presentation of creation at the primary-junior level and a fun nature plaque for next week. 

 Now, what just happened? I wonder.  Apparently, the older children find Sunday School, under the guise of helping their little brothers and sisters, more fun than adult church.  So now I have ALL of the Cape Croker United Church children in my Sunday School class.  I can only say, “Thank You, Lord!  They are Yours. Help me to be faithful.”

Years ago, when I left a stable job to attend Teachers’ College at age twenty-seven, I felt that the Lord was going to use this training for His service. Of course, teaching in elementary schools is service also, but on the reserve, I really felt that I was fulfilling a missionary calling. I believe that He had already planned that I should teach the whole Sunday School, and brought it about as only He could.

All the  days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.(Psalm 139:16 NIV)