Squeak, squeak. Hello there! My name is Eddie. I donít know why my name is Eddie; but Susan started calling me that after Mrs. Peters tried to kill me with the, squeak, broom.
Oh Iím sorry, squeak, let me explain some things. I am the church mouse here at First Baptist. My family have been the mice around, squeak, here for several generations. I have been selected to give you a tour of the churchís Sunday school. I must ask you, however, squeak, not to let anyone see me. The children like seeing me from time to time but poor Mrs. Peters, she starts screaming and chasing me with whatever she can get her hands on, squeak. Letís hide in the cabinet under the sink; we can see through the crack between the doors.
Shhhhh, hear that? The first people are arriving. Look! Those high heels, that is Mrs. Peters herself. I know itís her because sheís the only woman that wears high heels anymore. My dad tells me, all the women used to wear them when he was just a wee little mouse, squeak.
Look! Look! There. See those shoes? The old ones? Thatís Larry. Every Sunday he comes with a bunch of kids. Those shoes of his arenít that old they are just worn. I hear the kids talking about how Larry walks around the neighborhood every Saturday knocking on doors, squeak, to see which children heíll be picking up on Sunday morning.
Youíll like this. The kids are about to sing. Some just stand there, some jump around every-which-way, but most of them move just like Mr. J does. The kids love him. Iím not sure, squeak, what his name is but all the kids call him, ďMr. J.Ē Come now, if you want to see one of the classes we will need to leave now, when they arenít looking, so Mrs. Peters wonít, squeak, come after me.
Come on, squeak, you can fit through here, I do it all the time. My uncle chewed out this hole years ago. Every once in a while they paint over it but they have never fixed it. Ok, ok, squeak, itís class time, here they come.
Most of these kids, squeak, come with Larry, they are all-around eight to ten years old. Oh, look there is Susan, she is the one that started everyone calling me Eddie. She loves to sing. She has sung all by herself, in front of all the adults upstairs. She loves the Lord and is not afraid to tell the other kids about Him.
See that boy with, squeak, Spiderman on his shirt? Thatís Noah. Miss Jane, the teacher, Iíve seen her after the kids have left the room get down on her knees and cry and pray over him. Noah doesnít know his dad and his mom is never here. I donít know why. Some sundays he acts like a perfect little boy, other sundays he gets into trouble all the time. Heís hit other kids, heís shouted cuss words at Miss Jane, itís amazing what he has done, but he keeps on coming. Miss Jane keeps praying that little Noah will find the Lord before he starts looking to fill the void in his heart in other places.
There are other, squeak, classes but letís go down to the teen class and see whatís going on there. We can look though the hole next to the plug in.
Mr. J teaches the teens. Heís really good with them. He talks to them and they talk with him, itís almost like one big conversation about the Bible and life. Look at them, they think they have their whole life in front of them, some will plan for it, some seem already not to care. Sandy, she dropped out of school this year. Jim is going to college this fall to be a preacher. Sam, squeak, has enlisted in the army and will leave after graduation. Cindy just got her license and wrecked the car a week later. Mr. J has talked to some of them one on one after class, sometimes clean through church. He loves them, I hope they, squeak, see it.
Oh, there is the bell, Sunday school is over. Look. Mrs. Peters is coming down the hall. I think Iíll give the kids a good laugh, please, squeak, pray her aim with the broom hasnít gotten any better. Bye.
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