The Kid, the Boss, and the Incorrigible Nanny

Part Eleven

Sunday was always a good day.

Well, if Kid was to rely on the advice of her high school principal, every day was a great day if you made it one. Working with kids, she generally agreed with the sentiment. Some days weren't easy. Parents often had unrealistic expectations, the student-to-teacher ratio was really almost ridiculous, stomach bugs could take out entire classrooms, and sour attitudes from little ones could leave her having to explain bites or scratches to parents (not to mention the sad faces of little friends after a scuffle). So, no, not every day was a great day. But Sundays were usually good ones.

The church she went to was a small one by the standards of some. She had seen her fair share of churches. Some of which considered 50 people a good number, others where it was common to have over a thousand people sitting in the seats. This building wasn't small enough to constitute as little, but it sat at around 300 attendees each week. It wasn't the size of the church that drew her in, and she would have been lying if she said anything at "drawn her in" at all. She had mostly come here out of a desperate, last attempt at finding a church to frequently attend. The fact that she was here could only be attributed to the providence of God.

Just like everyone, life had thrown a few punches her way. Her father had died when she was three of a heroin overdose, and her mother had been emotionally distant all of her childhood. She had learned from an early age that people weren't perfect and had felt that the only way to make it in the world was to become self-sufficient. It was better not to let a lot of people in. She was thankful that she had her grandmother to turn to. Her grandmother had always been there when things weren't going well at home, and even though they had disagreed on things over the years, they still respected and loved each other deeply.  Her grandmother had stood by her after her first — and only — bad breakup in high school. They had endured leaving a church and the gossip that followed with their departure. They had been together through the hunt to find a new church. It was hard for her to imagine life without the close-knit relationship they had shared.

This Sunday, there in the pew they always shared, Kid wondered what Adrian and Aiden had been through together. Did they have a church family to turn to on Sundays? Did they believe in God? Was it appropriate to ask your boss questions like that? 

Her grandmother's neatly trimmed finger jabbed her in the side. Kid jumped, realizing that the congregation had stood to sing the doxology while she had been lost in her thoughts. She stood and joined them in harmony:

Glory be to the Father, 

and to the Son,

and to the Holy Ghost;

As it was in the beginning, 

is now, and ever shall be:

world without end.

Amen. Amen.

...

It never ceased to amaze him how many emails he could get in a timeframe of only ten minutes. In the back of the sanctuary, the glow from his phone glared up at him. The lights in the room had been dimmed so the stage could be lit up. Rows of people were standing, arms raised, singing along to a loud praise song. He was the only person in the room sitting, on the back row, tapping away at his phone. This was his life now.

Thankfully, Aiden wouldn't be here to see him not participating in worship. His little brother was in the back of the church, likely learning about Noah's Ark or singing the children's version of this exact song. He knew he shouldn't be on his phone right now — his mother would have lost it had she seen him now — but that's how busy things were at work.