The Bible study for six little neighborhood girls had finished, and two of them asked if I would help them with their homework that evening over at "my church." Giving it long and careful consideration, weighing the pros and cons of getting the neighborhood children accustomed to being at my church, it took me about 2.725 seconds to agree to the proposition.
While Dahlia* was down the hall on a bathroom break, Meghan* strictly forbade me from coming into the Sabbath school room where she was experimenting with the chalkboard. Complying, I stood out in the hall and waited on both girls.
"How do you spell your name?" came a query from somewhere near the chalkboard.
"M-I-C-H-E-L-L-E...that's two 'L's," I explained.
Silence.
"How do you spell God?" the voice questioned me again.
I started to move toward the door.
Meghan caught me: "No, you can't look!"
Stifling my curiosity, I dictated slowly for the 1st grader, "G-O-D".
Silence.
"Okay, you can look now!" called the grinning voice near the chalkboard.
Stepping nearer to the doorway, I read the carefully etched message in bright chalk..."I love Michelle and God." Just five words, only one sentence, but they etched themselves in my brain more permanently than on the chalkboard.
When it seems like my work is hollow, my efforts shriveling with my heart in the biting Illinois wind, I pull out a mental picture, drawn on a chalkboard in childish innocence, and I fancy a small voice asking, "How do you spell God?"
Some days I feed the lambs...and then, some days, they feed me.
*Not their real names.
