I have to share a sweet story with you from our Sunday school class. I know that I talk about them a lot, but I do spend a great deal of time with them and they are a very big part of my life.

Last Sunday started off as usual. After being dismissed for class all of the kids lined up and we walked down the hill to the "flat" spot at the bottom of the hill. The reason we go to the bottom of the hill instead of to the marvelous classroom that we have been blessed with is two fold. First of all our children are loud and active. With our classroom next to the church building we have found that the adults have a hard time keeping up with our enthusiasm. They want to hear their lesson without the background singing of 50 plus kids. Second is the fact that on Sunday morning people use the soccer field for games and there are tons of kids and adults at these games so we feel that we are letting our worship in song spill over into the community.

Well class was progressing as usual with Jen and Evelyn leading the children in song. I am patrolling the boarder to make sure we have no little escapees trying to swim the river. Jen enjoys putting me on the spot by asking me to sing. Well I know all of the songs in English not so well in Spanish and the kids know all of the songs in Spanish and not so well in English. But fear not the kiddos always pull me through. And I can always get Jen back by suggesting we sing Father Abraham or head, shoulders, knees, and toes faster and faster. I can tell you that no personal trainer in the world could design a better workout.

But I am getting off of the point. There was a little guy that was there on Sunday morning. He was wiggling during church and told Jen that his feet hurt. We didn't think much of it. After our singing we went back up to the classroom and had our lesson. The children were all working on their craft projects when I notice this little guy sitting at the table with tears streaming down his face. I ask him what was wrong, he just laid his head down and refused to answer or even look at me. I called Jen over and he finally said that his feet were hurting. Then it dawned on me. I told Jen to take off his shoes. They were sizes too small. His tears stopped. He said that he had to wear shoes for church and that these were all he had. We assured him that God wants him in church with or without shoes.

This little guy wanted to go to church so badly that he was willing to put on shoes that hurt his little feet just so that he could come and worship with us.

Pretty humbling huh?