My kids, now 14 and 16, grew up at a small church in Illinois where my husband served as a part-time pastor. “Small” meant 15 or 20 in worship, sometimes less. A couple of the women started a multi-age Sunday school class after we arrived — a class of three, for our two kids and one other. This church delighted in giving the kids jobs, feeding them at potlucks, entertaining them with bonfires, weenie roasts and bingo.
One of my...
