Anyone that has ever assisted with a vacation Bible school will quickly tell you just how much of a blessing it was to do so.
My first year at Sweetgum Baptist Church was marred by COVID-19 (we popularized the “parking-lot service” from late March until August 2020), so it was not until last year that I was able to experience the effort firsthand.
I grew up going to church with family, so it was not uncommon that I would spend weeks during the summer attending a vacation Bible school somewhere in Gilmer County, Ga.
But to actually assist with one is an entirely different animal. Sweetgum does not go easy – I have often heard it said just how elaborate the church has always made their Bible schools – and last year, I found myself overwhelmed with how true the reputation was.
Sunday School classrooms are transformed over a period of weeks from the standard set-up to full-blown, themed sets – often at the out-of-pocket expense of the teacher. Copious amounts of food is prepared from start to finish – we are Baptists, after all – and the 6-8 p.m. sessions are known to stretch to a more-realistic 5-9 p.m. window, between nightly preparation and inevitable cleanup.
But at the center of it all are the children. I loaded up with local heating and air guru Eddie Stiles on the first night and honestly was a little pessimistic – we had exactly three children and one adult to pick up and drop off with the church van.
The last night, that number had expanded to 25 children – and still just one adult, but that’s not what I want you to focus on. The children were, well, blessings, to keep it short.
My role at The Graham Star guarantees interaction with children on an almost daily basis, but to meet their families, hear some of the utterly outrageous things they have to say in general conversation and, of course, see a select few of them get their hearts right with Jesus Christ made all the long hours worth the while.
Call it a “labor of love,” if you like.
The first night, outside activities for teenagers and even children ages 8-12 went rather smoothly … then the littlest tykes trickled out from their lesson for snacks and recreation time. It did not take long for the children to seize control, as organization parted ways with 3295 Old Tallulah Road in favor of a full-scale, water-balloon fight, before they switched their weapons of choice to innocent pool noodles that had previously served as a barrier line for dodgeball.
At one count, there were six noodles flogging me, as I grumbled about being out of shape and not as fast as I used to be. But the main event came … when else? The last night.
All week, the attendees had the choice to contribute to an “offering” – a collection of money taken up during the opening festivities each night. A yearly tradition, the funds always go to a good cause – this year, it was the local Rescue Coalition – but the stakes are raised as boys are challenged by girls to raise the most, with the winners getting to dunk someone from the church.
The dunkee (is that a word? It should be) is almost always pastor Patrick O’Dell, but a curveball was thrown into the mix a mere four hours before we were set to start the last night. The heating and air guru that I mentioned before (I thought we were friends, my bad) pitched the idea to our group chat that the esteemed publisher/editor/sports writer for The Graham Star should also take the plunge.
I thought peer pressure went away in middle school, but the decision was unanimous.
So after I read the totals for the money raised throughout the week to the crowd gathered outside – $655.62, somehow split evenly between girls and boys (I sense shenanigans) – it was time. Our beloved pastor’s wife chuckled as Patrick slipped onto his perch, and word quickly spread that she had the idea to drop 10, 20-pound bags of ice into our refreshing fate.
After his unruly baptism (about four of them, technically), he threw in the towel, and I begrudgingly stepped up.
The kids clamored. Cell phone cameras powered on (and, yes, video of the beginning is available) and I sat down to await my fate.
It did not take long. It seems the pastor’s daughter thought it would be simply hysterical to sneak around the back and push the mechanism that flipped the seat downward, dispersing the poor soul perched on the throne into a four-foot “Pit of Despair” (yes, a Princess Bride reference!) before I could even get settled.
Hardy-har-har.
Fate continued to play a part. As Patrick and I rotated in and out of the chilly waters, it seemed his stints were filled with pitches thrown by Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams, while the tosses delivered when I sat on the seat seemed to come from Roy Halladay (the fact that I just referenced two former Phillies makes me shudder, but my former editor at the Cherokee Scout is smiling somewhere).
Each quick dip led to an ovation and laughter. The children were having the time of their life. The problems of the world seemed to fade away, as memories were made and hearts were touched, all around.
Vacation Bible school is truly a labor of Love.
Kevin Hensley is the publisher/editor of The Graham Star. If you approach him on the street over the next week or so, please do not take offense if he does not hear you greet him on the first attempt: he is still getting water out of his ears.