How To See A Story

I’m really enjoying writing for The Banner.  While the format is your basic 5Ws we learned in school, it’s been fun to learn what other people are doing in the churches that I cover.  I’ve been keeping all my notes after the stories have been published because it’s been the story behind the story, the stuff that falls to the floor after I rip the post-it note off my desk, that tugs at my heart.

Recently, I did a story on my church and the work some of its members do with Kids Hope.  Once upon a time, I wanted to be the coordinator for Kids Hope at my church. I filled out the application for it over a cup of coffee at Starbucks, dreaming of having a little part time job where I’d be in a school again, wear cute outfits and shoes that click when I walked. (Nevermind that this was NOT part of the job description.  I was a mother of an infant and a two year old – I was in la-la land fantascizing about the world outside of Sesame Street.)

The day the application was due, Harper, who was barely four months old, was having a rough day.  We live 30 minutes from our church and Harper’s cries (Was it an ear infection? Was she tired? I’m sad I can’t remember,  even if it was an event that made her sad, I still want to remember all of it.) clued me in that perhaps right now is not the time to commit to something else.

“This isn’t the last job you’ll apply for,” Jesse said to try and cheer me up.  But I really wanted that job.

A good friend of mine is the coordinator, and she’s great at it. I knew she would be when I found out she got the position because she and I used to teach together: not only is she extremely creative and organized, but she’s hilarious, and, most of all, her love for children shines.

But I learned more about how good she is at this job after writing a story about it for The Banner.  Our church threw a Teacher Appreciation Breakfast for the staff at the local school where the Kids Hope mentors participate, and my friend is the one who lead the organization of it all.  She didn’t tell me straight out that she was in charge of this event, but through others that I talked to, her name kept coming up.  It wasn’t just about the variety of food that was brought, it was the tablecloths that were spread out underneath it. It wasn’t just the invitation to the staff to breakfast, it was the carefully decorated invite to all the teachers, not just the ones that work with Kids Hope.  And it wasn’t just the chance for a desperately needed break and time to talk together that teachers need, it was the quotes that were placed around the room: “A good teacher is like a candle – it consumes itself to light the way for others.” And, “We cannot hold a torch to light another’s path without brightening our own.” She did all that. With two young children thirteen months apart!

I would have never done all that. It wouldn’t even occur to me to do it.  As a matter of fact, if anyone suggested I organize something like that I would’ve been annoyed.  I guess I could pass it off in Christian terms and say, “It’s not where I’m called.  I’m not gifted in that area,” but let me be honest: service is a major flaw of mine.

Unless you consider writing a service.  I would’ve never learned about all the work my friend does with Kids Hope if I hadn’t gotten a position with The Banner.  Jesse was right: it wouldn’t be the only job I’d ever apply for.  Although, there’s more: I wasn’t right for that job.  She is. And I’m happy to write about it.