Sunday school is for learning.

It was hot and humid last weekend, and the apartment where we gather for Sunday services was unbearable for my little class and me.  Not to disturb the adult class, Rizpah, Katrina, Austin and I tiptoed down the long flight of stairs to the cement porch outside where the air was fresh and cool.  We talked and we colored, and we talked and we colored.  We discussed a large colony of ants feasting on a sugary blob of who-knows-what.  Austin wanted to know why mosquitoes like blood and what his teeth are made of.  Katrina took all her favorite colors out of the crayon box and used them to create a pink and purple Tower of Babel on her coloring page. Rizpah couldn't bear to sit on the cement and moved to the linoleum inside the entryway, incessantly chatting in her native Bengali, while motioning with her hands and eyebrows - a charming side of her character that always makes me laugh!  We said hello and we smiled and waved to each and every person who passed by - and even the grumpiest looking person and most arrogant teenager returned our smiles with a smiles of their own.  "See?" I told my three.  "You can help sad people just by smiling and being kind."  They looked at me with wide-eyed amazement and carried on with their simple acts of kindness for the rest of our time together.  It was a good class - a very good class indeed.