My first experience teaching Sunday School at 19 felt intimidating. It was a group of five-year-olds. I remember going early and praying over each tiny chair. The kids were great. Typical five-year-olds. All but one, Trey (not his real name). Trey was different. He seemed to grasp things about God in a deeper way. He prayed with fervor, and even the questions he asked were not typical of his young age. Trey was a delight, and I looked forward to seeing him each week. A loving grandmother brought him each Sunday. His parents didn't have an interest in church themselves but allowed the grandmother to pick him up and send him to class.
One Sunday Trey's grandmother came without him, sadly explaining the parents decided she could no longer bring him to Sunday School. I felt crushed. I prayed for God to stay close to him. I have to admit I was praying somehow he would be allowed to come back.
A few weeks later, during testimony time in the church service, a lady stood up and shared that she needed to bring in some income but couldn't work outside the home because of caring for her young child. She decided to advertise her home for after school childcare at her son's kindergarten. The Lord opened up the opportunity for her to have a young boy her son's age and not only did this give her extra income, but she was able to do Bible stories and songs with both children each day. She was thrilled and saw this as her ministry not only to her son but this boy, Trey.