December 30, 2012

The Gift--98 Degrees

I am so blessed with my church family, but nowhere more than Tristan's Sunday School/Junior Church/Kid's Club (Soon to be AWANA) teacher Helen Arthur. Helen was youth director when I was a kid, but I never dreamed I would call her my friend. To say we are blessed to have her is an understatement. She always has a million ideas for any project, EVER.

A typical lesson from Helen includes a craft and some sort of practical thing a preschooler should know: ABC's, colors, shapes, numbers, etc. the Wednesday before Christmas they read "Santa's Favorite Story." Essentially there's a big storm and the North Pole is in a uproar because Christmas might be canceled. Santa tells them that won't happen because Christmas isn't about him, it's about Jesus! Here are Helen and her "babies" reading their story:


Tristan is kissing her shoulder!

Helen comes by it honest. Her mom, Mrs. Greybeal/Virginia/Mawmaw Jenny was my Sunday school teacher in 3rd and 4th grade (I think). We always had a craft to do every week. From fans made of old greeting cards to butterflies from unused church bulletins to a stone church made of cardboard and rocks. She was one of the sweetest and kindest people I ever met and I like to think she and my Granny are BFF's in heaven because both loved The Lord so much! I remember on her deathbed Mrs. Greybeal didn't recognize everyone and was very week, but I went in to see her and she not only recognized me she told me she remembered when I was in her class and we took a "train trip" to the Holy Land. I promptly told her we couldn't get there on a train. Once she convinced me that the special train could cross the ocean we got to pick our own stops along the way. I picked Hawaii (still my lifelong goal) and Brittany and I got of and did the hula!

I'm rambling. To the point, the Sunday before Christmas, Helen brought me an angel they think her mom made (it certainly looks homemade and like her handiwork). She told me her mom would be so proud of how I've become a worker for The Lord and it was an angel to watch over our new house. I'm not saying this to brag or anything, mind you, just relaying the story. Needless to say, I'm sobbing as she gives it to me and she's crying (if anyone cries more than me it could be Helen ;) and my mom who witnessed it was crying. It meant more to me than probably even Helen realizes. Her mother was SO special to me!

Without further ado:



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