I actually made it to my Sunday school class yesterday. I told the third graders that they had to be extra nice to me because I was very tired from traveling home from New Zealand and that I had been in an earthquake.
"An earthquake!" was their initial response, but then they were more interested in sharing their own stories of calamity:
"You know, a tree fell down in my neighbor's yard and there is police tape everywhere."
"The McDonalds near my cousin's house caught on fire!"
I found it quite refreshing.
They could tell that I was not well-prepared for class, and peppered me with questions like a bunch of hungry sharks circling a lifeboat:
"If Jesus rose from the dead, was he then, like, a zombie?"
"If Jesus had Joseph as his father on earth and God as his father in heaven, then who was his other mother?"
"If God made the world, then who made God?"
"Joseph was a carpenter? We have a carpenter who comes to our house and when he bends over, you can see his . . ."
(I ended that story right quick.)
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