Jacob and Esau: An Awana Snapshot
The double-wide trailer was alive with conversation and activity. Roughly fifty kids filled the space, with about a dozen adult leaders roving about, ever on hand to supervise, answer spontaneous questions, and sharpen a dull pencil. I was among the latter of the group, squeezing through tight alleys made by tables, chairs, and the kids that hardly wanted to stay seated.
These portions of Wednesday nights were controlled chaos. Most of the youngsters – Sparkies ranging from around five to seven years old – were corralled to construct a craft of some sort – glue this piece here, color these characters there – while some others from each group would report to their leaders to recite verses. A cacophony filled the air as the leader at the front tried to make sure her instructions were heard over the sound of kiddos saying verses and receiving congratulations for doing well.
The leader cupped her hands around her mouth as she shushed the energetic Sparkies and directed them to glue in the coloring page to their individual craft book. Thankfully, tonight’s was an easy craft. Just glue in the pages and color the pictures. (In my mind, glitter and confetti are the bane of craft time, so I was always happy to avoid them.)
As I roved up and down the lines of tables, I checked over each work of art, complementing color choices and helping when needed. (I made sure the kids said “please” and “thank you” in appropriate response for getting help.) Some pencils needed sharpened. Some kids ran out of glue. I always keep a few glue sticks in my back pocket, ready to pull out when I come across a spent tube. I love how the kids’ eyes get wide like they’ve just seen a magic trick.
Well, during my roving, I come to one little girl’s spot. She’s got a lot of colors out, adding plenty of detail to her picture of Jacob and Esau. She’s bent intently over the table, doing her best to make sure the colors stay in the lines.
I lean over her shoulder. “Looks great! I like all the colors you chose!”
She nods in approval as she continues to add color to Esau’s legs. “My mom has hairy legs. They’re spiky!” she confesses.
I do my best to conceal a laugh but can’t hide my smile. “Well, sometimes, we just don’t have time to shave them.” That’s how I feel anyway. Short on time, shaving my legs is typically a lower priority, at least when shorts aren’t in season.
She looks up at me, her eyes serious and brow furrowed, and says in a deadpan tone. “She has time.”
I saw the family at church the following Sunday and couldn’t help but smile.