I woke up this morning apprehensive. Nervous. Unsure of myself.
And equally unsure of whether or not I was setting myself up for disaster.
It’s still hard for me to be around kids. Me. The girl who used to be so instantly drawn to each and every child who ever graced my line of sight. The last year has damaged that. Made it difficult for me to be around any children without feeling that pang of remorse. Over the children I will likely never have.
It seems so illogical to me as I type that out. You would think that my own inability to have children would make me yearn for those connections even more. Driving me to form bonds with the children of those I love even more fiercely. Seeking out any and every child I could possibly find to fill that hole for me.
But instead, the opposite has happened. I have found myself shrinking away from spending time with the children of my friends. Suddenly unsure of myself. Incapable of opening my heart to them. Unable to enjoy them without hurting over what may never be mine.
I used to be a girl who was always at her best around kids. But lately, it takes a lot out of me to be around them.
A piece of me has clearly been lost in this process.
So, volunteering in that room today was scary for me. In a way that made me a little sad. Because I don’t want to be the girl who shies away from kids, just because she can’t have her own.
I don't want to be that girl at all.
In the midst of my nervous energy, I may have shown up early. Half an hour early to be exact. I walked upstairs to the room where the class would be meeting, and I sat down at one of the little tables. I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. I just sat there, in that empty room, by myself, waiting…
For what, I’m not even sure. I could hear the worship team starting up downstairs though, and I actually found myself liking the peace of that little room. With the music wafting up and no one else around; it was kind of nice.
And so I sat there, trying to calm my nerves and remind myself that I used to be great with kids. That there shouldn’t be anything here for me to be nervous about.
When the room instructor showed up, she had her own little one in tow. An adorable 3 year old girl, with all kinds of energy and personality.
I introduced myself to them both, and then kind of stood off in the corner. Waiting for someone to tell me what to do.
I’m sure she must have determined I was a bit strange.
But then, the kids started shuffling in. 5 in total. It was an especially cold day, and apparently the colder it is; the less people show up to church. So this small group wasn’t entirely unexpected. And it was good. 5 kids, 2 teachers. Nothing overwhelming about that at all.
Except… I was totally overwhelmed. There was a little boy in the room who clearly wasn’t 3 yet (I would say it would be pushing it to even think he was 2), but his parents had dropped him off anyway. For reasons I’m not even entirely sure of, except that 3 is the youngest age my church has classes for. And maybe they just really wanted him in a class.
Either way though, he was well behaved and polite and… absolutely adorable. Just the sweetest thing ever. I sat down on the floor with him and started playing with the cars, and soon the other kids were swarming around us to play as well. So as the actual teacher (because let’s remember – I’m just a volunteer who has no idea what she’s doing in terms of teaching a Sunday School class) set up the lesson for the day, I just sat on the floor playing with the kids.
And, I was fine. The more we got into playing, the more fine I was. The more comfortable in my own skin, as I remembered that I know how to do this. That I get kids.
That I always have.
There was one little boy who kept vying for my attention. Grabbing at my shirt and shouting out “Teacher teacher!” Wanting me to pick him up and listen to his stories.
Yep. Totally melted my heart.
And then there was this little girl who had shown up dressed in a full on Princess outfit. Pink from head to toe, with frills and ribbons and a flower in her hair.
Absolutely priceless.
We went up to the table to begin the lesson for the day, complete with hand drawn fish and crayons and a story to boot. But the little boy who had been beckoning me since he walked in the door had other plans. He didn’t really want to learn the lesson. Instead, he wanted to talk to me about fish. About the times his dad had taken him fishing, and the kinds of fish he had caught.
Then he announced “My mom told me that fish even poop!” and all the little ones began giggling.
I caught myself smiling and proudly responded “Well, that’s true. Everybody poops!”
And that was it. They were all doubled over in hysterics, and the lesson about Jesus was more or less lost on them.
I was no help at all in that arena to be honest.
But, the kids were laughing, and I was laughing, and before I knew it; the two hours were up.
Little ones were giving me hugs on their way out the door, and… I had survived.
Plus, the teacher said she still wants me to come back in two weeks. So, apparently I didn’t derail the lesson plan too badly. She said that the younger ones are sometimes harder to keep on track, but that it was just nice to have an extra set of hands.
I’m going back in two weeks. Keeping up an every other week volunteer schedule for a while. Just to feel this out. And find my footing. Figuring out if this is something I can keep up.
If this is something I want to keep up.
I want to be that girl again. The one who is at her best when she’s around little ones. The one who was clearly meant to work in this context.
The girl who doesn’t shy away from the hugs of children.
And after today, I’m starting to think it may one day be possible again.
That perhaps, I could actually find that piece of myself.
One of the many pieces that was lost in the last year.
But one of the few that may still be retrievable.
