The Seeds Are Still Growing

Today we welcomed a brand-new group of second graders into our Sunday School room.

If I’m honest, it was tough.

It was strange.

For the first time, I was welcoming a new group of kiddos into a room that had been “ours” for so long without Ms. Paula standing beside me.

I knew this day was coming. I had prepared for it. I had prayed about it. I had spent time getting our room ready and thinking about how I wanted these new kiddos to feel when they walked through the door.

But knowing something is coming and actually living it are two very different things.

And before Life Group even started, God gave me exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

As I was greeting our new kiddos, one of the children Ms. Paula and I had taught together was waiting for me.

She had something important to tell me.

She had asked Jesus into her heart.

I cried.

Literally.

They were tears of pure joy, but there was something else wrapped up in them too.

Immediately, my mind went back to the words of Jesus in Luke 15:

“Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
Luke 15:10 ESV

Heaven was rejoicing.

And I couldn’t help but think about Ms. Paula.

One of the precious children she had prayed for, loved, taught, laughed with, and faithfully poured Jesus into had placed her faith in Him.

On the very morning I was struggling with walking into that room without her, God allowed me to see a little more fruit from the seeds she helped plant.

I needed that.

Making Room for Something New Without Erasing What Was

As I prepared our classroom for this new group, I knew I wanted it to feel fresh and welcoming for them. They deserve a teacher who is excited about their year and ready to love them well. And I am!

But I also didn’t feel the need to erase everything that had been there before.

So I didn’t.

The bees stayed.

The Beatitudes stayed.

My daughter even bought me 3 new little bees. Two are in our church room, and one will sit on my desk at school. I love knowing that little reminder will follow me into both places where God has called me to love children.

I went through some of the old curriculum pictures our church has held onto through the years. Some of them date all the way back to the 1940s and 1970s. They are beautiful, and somehow we just haven’t been able to throw them away.

I chose several pictures from lessons Ms. Paula and I especially loved teaching together and placed them across the top of our cabinets.

Our Fruit of the Spirit tree was moved so it is one of the first things the children see when they walk into the room.

The silver beads stayed.

Our familiar welcome sign stayed.

Not because I’m trying to make a museum out of Room 208.

Life moves forward. Ministry moves forward. New children walk through the door, and they deserve space to make their own memories.

But moving forward doesn’t require pretending that the people God used to bring us here never existed.

Sometimes we carry the good things they taught us right into the next chapter.

“It’s Getting a Little Dicey in Here”

My niece Ava is continuing to help me, and she has noticed all those little touches too.

A few times today, I caught her grinning when I said something that sounded suspiciously like Ms. Paula.

At one point, about six kiddos came through the door at once.

Suddenly there were 15 children in the room, conversations happening everywhere, supplies moving around, and excitement building.

I looked at Ava.

I looked around the room.

And without even thinking about it, I said,

“It’s getting a little dicey in here.”

Ava grinned.

We both knew.

That was such a Paula thing to say.

The funniest part was that when our classroom got “dicey,” Ms. Paula was usually leading the pack. She would acknowledge that things were getting a little wild while knowing full well she had probably helped get everybody wound up in the first place.

Then it was time for Kids Praise.

So what did we do?

We marched.

“March, march, march!”

Right out of the room.

Another signature Ms. Paula move.

And there I was, marching a completely new group of second graders down the hallway doing something they didn’t even know had been done by kiddos before them.

I smiled.

Grief is strange like that.

Sometimes it catches you completely off guard and brings tears.

Other times, it sounds like 15 second graders marching down a church hallway while you laugh because you know exactly who taught you to do it.

The Most Important Thing Stayed the Same

They went home with treat bags and candy.

We used a craft Ms. Paula had tucked away in the cabinet. In true Ms. Paula fashion, there was more than enough.

And, yes, we made a mess.

But those aren’t the things that matter most.

We opened God’s Word.

We thanked God for Jesus.

We talked about the Names of God. Because who God is covers every need we have.

We talked about Prayer.

And we talked about what it means to shine the light of Jesus in our schools.

How can we love someone who needs a friend?

How can we show kindness?

How can the way we speak and treat people help someone else see something different in us?

My prayer for these children is that they won’t simply know Bible stories.

I want them to know Jesus.

And I want knowing Him to change the way they live.

As I talked to them about shining the light of Jesus, I couldn’t help but think about Paula again.

Because that’s what she did.

She shined the light of Jesus.

She did it with Bible lessons and crafts.

She did it with snacks and treat bags.

She did it through laughter and silliness and using entirely too much glue.

She did it by showing up week after week and loving the children God placed in front of her.

And now there’s a new group sitting in those same chairs.

They won’t have the privilege of knowing Ms. Paula the way so many other children did.

That hurts.

But perhaps they’ll receive some of what she gave us because those of us who were blessed to serve beside her will carry it forward.

Not simply her sayings.

Not the bees.

Not even the marching.

Her faithfulness.

Her joy.

Her willingness to love the children God placed in front of her and point them toward Jesus.

Still Growing

I’ve written before that I don’t think I’m finished sharing stories about Paula.

Today reminded me why.

Before I ever taught our new group their first lesson, God allowed one of our former kiddos to walk through that door and tell me she had trusted Jesus.

The timing wasn’t lost on me.

A seed had been planted.

God gave the growth.

And Heaven rejoiced.

Then the door opened, 15 new kiddos came piling into the room, things got a little “dicey,” and we began planting again.

That’s ministry.

We don’t always get to see what God does with the seeds we plant.

Sometimes He gives us the incredible privilege of seeing the fruit.

Sometimes someone else will see it years after we’re gone.

Our responsibility is simply to be faithful with the people He places in front of us.

So this Sunday, I walked into a room that felt painfully different.

And somehow, by the time I walked out, God had reminded me that the story wasn’t over.

There are new kiddos to love.

New seeds to plant.

New opportunities to point little hearts toward Jesus.

And some of the seeds Ms. Paula planted?

They’re still growing.

And I’m expectant for what God will grow next.