stared straight ahead, as silent as little statues? Looks as though a serious nature runs in the family, she thought, frowning as she recalled their father’s grim, taut posture.
“Okay, kids,” she called, clapping to get the class’s attention. “Let’s settle down and get to work.”
“Where’s Mrs. King?” Marie wanted to know.
Dara smiled as a moment of warm wishfulness fluttered inside her. If only someone could be making this announcement about me.…“Mrs. King’s baby was born last Sunday afternoon.”
“After Sunday school?”
“That’s right. She went straight to the hospital from here.”
“Is she all right?” Lisa asked.
“She’s fine, just fine,” Dara assured her.
“Boy or girl?” Pete demanded, grinning mischievously. “A boy, I hope—we already got too many girls in this town!”
The boys snickered and the girls groaned in response to his commentary, while Dara smiled fondly. “I hate to disappoint you, Pete, but the baby is a girl.”
Tina raised her hand. “Have they named her yet?”
“As a matter of fact, they’re going to call her Sarah. Sarah Naomi King.”
“Yuck,” Pete grumped. “What’d they go an’ give her such a sissy name for?”
“Hush,” Tina scolded, frowning. “Sarah isn’t a sissy name. It’s beautiful.” One hand on her hip, she bobbed her head back and forth. “It’s from the Bible,” she singsonged, “isn’t it, Miss Mackenzie?”
“That’s right.…Now, can anyone tell me anything about the biblical Sarah?”
“She was Isaac’s mother,” Bobby Lucas volunteered.
“But before she was Sarah,” his elder sister injected, “her name was Sarai.”
“What did she go and change her name for,” Pete teased, “if it was so beautiful?”
“Because,” Angie said, lifting her chin, “God told her husband to change it.”
She seemed so pleased and proud to possess knowledge the other children did not have. Was the behavior something her father had encouraged? Or had his straitlaced personality sent Angie the message that this demeanor was required if she hoped to gain his approval?
“Everyone said Abraham was too old and feeble to have more children,” the girl continued, “but he believed he could, and because of his faith, God gave him a child,” Dara reported in a somber, quiet voice.
These were not ordinary children, Dara decided. Did Bobby play with trucks? Did Angie and her dollies have tea parties? Did they splash in their tub, dunk cookies in their milk and make snow angels? Something told her they did not. Dara could almost picture them sitting inside, noses burrowed in the pages of some edifying book, peeking up only now and again to watch the fun going on outside.
Of course youngsters should pray and read the Word, she acknowledged. They should respect their elders and do their chores and work hard in school. But they should never be made to forget that Jesus loved the little children, because of the innocent playfulness born into them! What kind of parent was Noah Lucas that he had seemingly discouraged his son and daughter from doing what should come naturally to all kids—enjoying life!
“When is Mrs. King coming back?” Tina interrupted.
Dara sent a quick prayer of thanks heavenward for the question that diverted her from her thoughts. “Well, she’s so excited about being a new mommy I don’t think even Mrs. King knows the answer to that question.”
“Are you going to be our teacher?”
She inspected the wide-eyed, expectant faces of her students. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Silence blanketed the classroom. “Good,” Pete muttered to the boy behind him, “‘cause she’s really pretty.”
Dara clasped her hands. “Now then, I had intended to talk about the Golden Rule today. Who knows what the Golden Rule is?”
“Jesus said, ‘Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,’” Angie offered.
“Very good,” Dara said. “Can anyone tell me what that means?”
“Don’t do stuff to other people that you wouldn’t want ‘em doin’ to you?” Pete chanced.
“Absolutely! Someone give me an example.”
The children thought about that for a moment. Then Donny shouted out, “Oooh-oooh! I know, I know! Like…if I don’t want my sister hogging the swing, I shouldn’t hog it, either.”
“And if I wouldn’t like my brother changing the channel in the middle of a show I’m watching,” Lisa added, “I shouldn’t do it to him.”
Dara walked to the supply cabinet and swung open the doors. “That’s right!” She stood in front of shelves that housed colorful stacks of construction paper, bluntedged scissors, bottles of glue and boxes of crayons. “But it can also mean doing good things.”
“Like what?” Marie asked.
“Like helping people finish chores so they can get outside and play sooner, or sharing the last slice of chocolate cake.” Wiggling her eyebrows, she winked and gestured toward the cupboard. “Or making greeting cards that will let Mrs. King know how happy we are that she and Mr. King finally got that baby they’ve been praying for.”
Giggling and squealing with glee, the first and second graders grabbed materials from the cupboard and began working on their cards.
“How do you spell congratulations?” Tina wanted to know.
Dara was about to print the word on the chalkboard when Bobby Lucas said, “C-o-n-g-r-a-t-u-l-a-t-i-o-n-s.”
“Not so fast,” Pete complained.
How many first graders could even read the word? Dara wondered as Bobby spelled it again. It was beginning to look like Noah Lucas had the discipline part of fathering down pat. But what about the loving part? she asked herself.
“Thanks, Bob-oh,” Pete said, grinning. “How’d you get so smart?”
Dara thought she saw the hint of a smile tug at the comers of Bobby’s mouth when he shrugged.
“His name isn’t Bob-oh,” Angie corrected. “It’s Bobby, which is short for Robert.”
“You mean robber,” Pete stuck in. “Your brother stole my pencil.”
“Didn’t steal it,” Bobby defended. “I only borrowed it” He handed it back to Pete, then crossed both arms over his chest.
“‘Thou shalt not steal,’” Pete teased, wagging a chubby finger at his classmate.
