PARABLE OF THE RAW EGGS

Lauren D. McKinney

It was Ted’s turn to do children’s time at church today, and he was in overachiever mode. He wasn’t going to be one of those slackers who mumble a story from a book and hurriedly say "Okay, you can go back to your seats now!" before the children can ask any questions.

No. He carried a large plastic tub and wore a white jacket he appeared to have wrested from a petite woman. The children gathered around, and he took bowls of baking powder, flour, chocolate chips, and sugar out of the tub. He started giving out cookie ingredients to the children so they could dump them in a big mixing bowl. My sons Jack and Will got sticks of butter and Lucas got flour, which he was fine with until Ted started to "help" him stir it. Destiny got to break eggs into the bowl all by herself.

Around this time, I began pretending really hard that this wasn’t happening. Had no idea I was going to have to worry about greasy little hands and floury clothes at church. Ted’s hands were now covered in flour, butter, and sugar up past his wrists because he realized that stirring cookie dough with a spoon takes too long, and children’s time is supposed to take about five minutes. Pastor was waiting to preach. Had been waiting a while. "I washed my hands," Ted assured us unconvincingly.

The point of children’s time seems to have been something about cooperating, I was gathering through my disassociation haze, as Ted cheerfully assigned another person with dirty hands to pass out large lumps of raw cookie dough directly into the hands of the children. The small, trusting souls crammed the blobs into their mouths with delight.

"Thanks, Ted! That was fun!" I lied wildly. Praise should be heaped upon anyone making an effort to be creative with children’s time, short of using matches and lighter fluid to demonstrate a burning bush. The cookies got baked during church, and we all had some. They were delicious, and no one is sick yet. God is good.

—Lauren D. McKinney lives with her husband, John Swartzentruber, and two sons Will and Jack in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. She and her family attend Germantown Mennonite Church.