Okay so last Sunday this new volunteer walks in. Sweet lady, super eager. I'm thinking great, finally some help with the preschoolers. Five minutes later she's standing in the middle of craft chaos looking like she might cry. That's when it hit me. I

Sunday morning. 7:47 AM. I'm in the church parking lot googling "Jesus feeds 5000 craft ideas" on my phone. This was my life for two years. Every. Single. Sunday. I'd piece together random lessons from the internet. Print coloring pages that may or

"Let's go around the circle and say our name and favorite color!" Dead silence. Twenty third-graders staring at me like I just asked them to solve calculus. Madison starts picking at the carpet. Tyler's already halfway under the table. That was my first Sunday

So Ethan walks up to me last summer. Middle of VBS. Day three. We're doing pirates. "Ms. Jennifer, didn't we do pirates when I was little?" Yes, Ethan. Yes we did. When you were in kindergarten. And first grade. And apparently now in fourth

I almost lost my best volunteer last year. She'd been teaching second grade Sunday school for three years straight. Never missed a week. Then one Sunday she pulled me aside and said she was thinking about stepping down. I panicked. Asked what was wrong. Turns out nothing was

I've been doing Sunday school for six years. Six years of Sunday mornings, goldfish crackers, and trying to explain Bible stories to kids who think anything before YouTube is prehistoric. When I started, I did what everyone does. Read from the Bible. Show a picture. Ask if anyone