Privilege in Service

Y’all. It’s July. I have dreaded July since LAST July.

But let me tell you why.

Last summer I volunteered at our church’s Vacation Bible School (VBS) for a week. Gracie was only a couple months old and Bean was too little to attend, so they hung out in the nursery that week while I served as a leader for a group of four-year-olds. I loved it. At the end of the week when I was on my serving high, the chair of the program asked if I would be her co-chair for this year, with the understanding that the co-chair position is a two-year commitment because the following year they would take over as chair. In my VBS stupor, I said yes. (Darn you, Melanie, for your perfect timing!!!)

For the past year, I’ve been meeting once a month (and once a week in the past month) with the VBS team at our church planning for VBS this year. Last week I had classes Monday through Wednesday for my teaching certification, but Thursday through Sunday I have been at the church every day decorating and getting ready for our big week which begins tomorrow.

It has been a lot of paper work, a lot of preparation, a lot of minute details, and a lot of time. At various points throughout the past year, I have wondered if maybe I regretted serving this way. Maybe I should have just stayed a group leader, served my one week, and been done with it. But then today one of my favorite ministers at our church prayed the sweetest prayer over our leadership team before we headed out for one final decorating stretch. In her prayer, she thanked God for the opportunity to serve these hundreds of children this week and then she thanked him for the lives of service that some of those children will lead when they grow up because they remember attending VBS when they were a child. “Thank you, Lord, for allowing us the privilege of planting the seed of faith.”

So, then I got all choked up and my mascara ran. And felt guilty for all the complaining, regretting, and doubting.

It is a privilege to serve. Especially children. And sometimes in the hustle of running from commitment to commitment and appointment to appointment, I forget that.

Bean is old enough to attend VBS this year (Gracie will still be in the nursery), and I can’t tell you how excited he is to attend “bacation bible scwool.” On Friday I picked him up from the nursery where the volunteers kids hang out while we decorate and took him up to show him his classroom. He loved seeing his name on the door, and he kept asking me all weekend if it was time for “scwool” yet.

Today as I drove home from our last decorating day, I thought about Bean and about the 300+ kids just like him who will be attending our VBS this week. As a mom, I serve a LOT. It’s part of my job. I serve my children by cooking for them, cleaning up after them, wiping their hands, noses, bottoms, and scratched knees. I serve them by teaching them manners and patience and compassion for others. I serve them by driving them around, buying them groceries, and tucking them in at night. Service is part of parenthood.

But how often do we get to serve our children not as parents, but as brothers and sisters in faith?

Parents wear all kinds of hats. We are friends to our children, protectors, disciplinarians, teachers, counselors, cheerleaders, and secret keepers. But very seldom do we take on the role of brother or sister.

This week as tensions are high and my walkie-talkie buzzes with frantic needs and 10,000 questions to answer, I will try to remember the privilege that comes with serving, and especially the joy that comes with serving my own son as a sister in faith.