Not much primary school memories left …with my eagerness to forget all the past. Last night I was thinking, who I’m going to write about this time…my thoughts brought me back to her, my English’s teacher, she was as well my only Sundays school teacher
I was just a very young little girl back then, I had forgotten how I actually end up attaining her Sunday’s school as well!l…each time she would came to my grandparent house to pick me up along with other kids in a van. She was a joyful person, nice to talk with among kids. We follow her like the little sheep wherever she goes…with a guitar we would sing along one song to another so happily as we sometimes dance along, shaking hands among friend, hugging…this I remember. We didn’t have much reading, but we had a lot of fun making craft, playing games especially the Easter… running around the field tried to search for the eggs, listening to stories which as well much I had forgotten.
She is a trusted friend to little one like us back then…our beloved Sunday’s school teacher. One time I was in distress a I actually went and cried in front of her, you know the rest of story..Acting like a spoiled child running into her. She was there …asking why…caring…then say a little pray for me. Been a Sundays school teacher was not an easy task for her , cause most parents disagreed with her evangelism, sometimes rumors spread out…accusing her of brain washing and kidnapping children, which we children always thought it was a stupid excuse parents made up to keep us away from having fun . Luckily my mom didn’t include in it hahaahah!
Back in school she was my strict English’s teacher, constantly punishing us. If we did mistake, each error come with bamboo cane on the palm of hand. She was like a nasty lioness. No joking in her class…been serious, totally different from the Sunday’s school teacher we known. Our times together were brief and soon she got married transferred to another place. I heard of her, having a happy family with kids of her own now. I use to confuse with her characters back then, yet I was fond of her so dearly.
At my childhood and teenage period I didn’t came to understand well or really get myself to know Jesus well add up much with confusion and rebel. But He is very patience with me through all the passing years…Now I’m able to catch the frame, of all this…to understand Him more …just like my Sunday school teacher once show it to me. He understand our innocent’s ignorant, with tremendous kindness and endless forgiving, nurturing us in a way that we can grown freely, independently walk back to Him. Sometimes when we were doing wrong, there comes the punishment, the pulling string to make sure we hit back the right track again as well as teaching us to be better. Even though we were living apart now, but I come to believe that we share the same mystery of our Father’s love…each and everyday in our life.
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