*CPPK= church planter pastor’s kid
7:00 AM– wake up to an alarm that’s been snoozed twice already, whack the screen and fall back asleep, only to have the door swung wide open and the lights turned on.
“It’s Sunday.” announces Mom. Fall out of the top part of the rickety bunk bed and land on the pile of laundry you swore you’d fold.
“Sa wakas, (at last), it’s finished, now plug in that printer,” is heard from the other room. “Please tell me you do have something ready to wear?” Mom asks. You nod and look at the semi-wrinkled shirts around you, grabbing the closest thing. Nope, no Blue Jays shirts to church. Nice shade of blue though.
8:00 AM– Get a half up, half down thing going on with your hair and gracefully trip over your violin. Poke your head in the guys’ room and ask if they’d just hurry up. Get promptly kicked out and left to print the remaining programs. Sneak some carrot cake that was supposed to be for church. Well, in your defense, you are a part of the church, amirite or amirite?
“Don’t give me that smile,” Mom warns jokingly in the front seat of the car. Settle down and get back to sleep for the 30 minute drive into somewhat open country and somewhat closed city. Wake up as the car turns past M&M Market and Wimpy’s (closed for the day) Diner, and past the basketball court they fixed a month ago.
9:00 AM– Pull into the parking lot and get outta that car and start hauling the heavy stuff from the car to the stairs, from the stairs to the room and don’t forget your Bible. Go back up and wait for the transit bus to pull up. Greet Ms. A and her bus driver and push her wheelchair up the ramp, assuring Ms. A that you are more than capable to push her all the way down. Get her safely with Mom and start practicing violin until everyone else comes in, switching from “Standing On The Promises” to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” if need be.
10:00 AM– Settle down on the floor as Sunday School starts. You’d sit down if it weren’t for the bright eyed child toddling over, smile widening as your camera shutter clicks. Snatch bits and pieces of The Stranger From Emmaus. Wait for the announcements to be read so the rest of the service can start.
“No, it’s not Jacob who has a birthday this week! I printed it!” Chuckles echo from around the room. Get up and read the Call To Worship, mirth giving way to respect. Rosin your bow and take your place, preparing to lead worship to the One who deserves it all. Resist the urge to say something as the worship leader urges everyone to sing, saying “Heaven hears us when our voices are loud.” Give in.
“Show me that in scripture!” Another round of chuckles.
The piano plays and worship is led. Switch between fiddling and playing classical, and try not to smile as a toddler dashes for her dad singing in the front. The last song is sung and you sit back down.
“You do have the supply bag for the kids this time, right??” Wince and ask your brother to get it from the car.
11:00 AM– Get the all-too-eager group of kids and take them to the spare room. Lay down the rules: No parties in the dark, even if you have light up Skechers; no pretend operating with scissors if you want to stay; and no PJ Masks in church. And under no circumstances, EVER, are you to touch that. EVER.
“I wanna race!” cries a hyper 5 year old. Your brother silently drops off the supply bag and gives you a thumbs-up. He leaves before you can pull off your “halp meh” face.
You pray with your co-worker and friend that maybe this time, just this time, you can capture the kids’ attention and help bring God’s Word to life for them.
12:00 PM– Nobody can say you didn’t try. But an hour of a round of cartwheels, races, piggy backs, one timeout, some shoes missing, fake money, and dancing later, really all you did was mention “Zach the tax collector who climbed the sick tree”. Sigh in frustration as you look for a missing kid.
“Yikes, I think we missed the ending.” Race to clean up and put shoes on a protesting girl and see if you did.
You did. But you were right on time for the refreshments. Some more carrot cake can’t hurt. Greet Mark a happy birthday. Get convinced into giving another piggy back and get choked. Load the piano into the waiting van and walk back in the heat.
1:00 PM– Wait for Ms. A’s bus to come so you all can go home and rest. It came late. Stare out the window, music blasting in your ears, thanking God for the little blessings that came today. Beg for AC because it is nothing but hot. Fall asleep in the car.
Then jolt awake making a mental note that you must get paper for the kids to draw on or lose complete sanity.
The Rest Of The Day- “Mom, where are the canned peaches??” “We finished them yesterday.” “Aw.”
NECESSARY DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t reflect PKs in general, but rather on one specific one. Not all PKs help with Sunday School or steal carrot cake, so I don’t wanna have y’all thinking that!