Mrs. Sophie was amazing! She had eyes in the back of her head, wit on the tip of her tongue, and kindness in the depths of her heart. She was sweet and stubborn, and you wanted to listen to her, not because you were afraid of her, but because you desperately wanted her to approve of you. Not that she would even shame you, but you just pined to see that glint of approval in her wrinkled smile. And someday when I grew up, I wanted to be just like Mrs. Sophie.

She had been a Sunday school teacher at my family’s church since before my daddy was born. She seemed as timeless as all eternity, and yet she held onto this sparkle of youthful zest that made you wonder if she was perhaps an angel - a tiny angel maybe - that woman was so small! But she was fisty. I knew it. And for all those reasons and more, I loved Mrs. Sophie with all my little heart.

That’s why as an eight-year-old girl, I was devastated when she retired from teaching our class. My hopes and dreams seemed to be all at once dashed. My plan had been that when I graduated from junior church as a twelve-year-old, I was going to become Mrs. Sophie’s helper. So much for that ambition! And who could ever replace her? I remember bemoaning my loss to my big brother Daniel. He always seemed to have such a gentle, listening ear. And a tear slipped down my cheek as a whimpered pitifully, “and who can teach our class now?”

Daniel had smiled curiously, a touch nervously perhaps, and then he hugged me, softly answering, “Actually, I will be teaching your class from now on.”

“But Daniel,” I began, “you’re not a sweet old grandma.”

“Thankfully, no,” Daniel chuckled. “I might not be a Sunday school ninja, but God always gives us everything we need to accomplish what He calls us to do.”

“Is He calling you to be a Sunday school teacher?” I asked sincerely, my little hand grabbing onto his huge one. Daniel was nineteen, and I felt like he was so grown up that he was practically an adult.

Well, if God was calling Daniel to teach my Sunday school class, then I supposed that everything would be okay. Even at a young age, I knew that God’s plans were so much better than my own ideas. In that moment, the situation was quietly settled in our minds. God was asking Daniel to teach my class, so he was going to be the bestest teacher ever.

Pretty soon, I forgot about how upset I had been. Part of the reason for my comforting amnesia was that my dear friend Nadia came over to play. I was the very youngest of nine. Even my twin brother Isaiah was seven minutes older than me, and seldom did he let me forget that. But Nadia was one year littler than me. When she came over, I felt like I had a little sister, and oh how I loved that! But it wasn't just me. My sweet eleven-year-old sister Miriam always joined Nadia and I on our adventures. And oh the grand adventures we would have!

You see, we had our own imaginary world and it was a marvellous and sometimes perilous place. We called it Finlandia after the melody to my mom’s favorite hymn, “We Rest on Thee”. The word Finlandia sounded just like such a beautiful and wonderful place, the kind of place where anything could happen! And crazy things did happen in Finlandia. 

You see, Nadia, Miriam, and I were mission-fairies. We had a golden tiara that was lined with gems that could teleport us to the realms within Finlandia where the pony princesses had never heard about Jesus. There were lots of pony princess friends whom we had already evangelized, and they were our special friends who would help us on our mission-fairy trips. But there were villains too. Princess Pumpernickel was so hostile towards the gospel, and consequently, to all the mission-fairies in Finlandia. 

Nadia was really good at outsmarting Princess Pumpernickel, but even so, the pony princesses were not as experienced in the field as we were. That day, Nadia, Miriam, and I were having a prayer meeting for Sparkle-Shine, Rainbow-Dream, and Glitter-Glory, three pony princesses who were locked in the Sadness Stable Pony Prison for sharing the gospel in the Dreamy Diamond realm.

“And so Lord,” Nadia continued her impassioned plea for precious ponies in her sweet little lisp, “help them trust You, especially Glitter-Glory, because she really misses her mate, Silver-Starlight”.

“Oh,” our fifteen-year-old sister Lela interjected, “I forgot about Silver-Starlight.” I shook my head. It was just like Lela to interrupt. She didn’t always take our game seriously. In fact, she found it amusing. Imagine that! Mostly, the reason she participated was to show off her crazy alliteration skills. “Maybe you can ride Silver-Starlight up Candy Mountain to rescue his horsy wife. I mean, doesn’t he have the secret passcode to unlock the Peppermint Prison Partition and protect the pretty princess pony whose purpose is to persistently perpetuate the precious priority of purity?”

I sighed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” I agreed, be it somewhat reluctantly and not really understanding Lela’s literary prowess. And with that, we resumed our epic game. Silver Starlight had just been reunited with Glitter Glory when Nadia’s mom arrived to bring her home. I was relieved that we hadn't ended on a cliff hanger.

“See you at Sunday school,” I called to Nadia as her mother led her to the car. Nadia’s mother was a wonderful woman. She didn’t speak much English as she and Nadia had recently immigrated to our neighborhood from Ukraine. Nadia’s mother Natalia talked so slowly when she tried to communicate with my mama, but when she spoke to Nadia in Ukrainian, her words flew forth so rapidly that I couldn’t imagine how Nadia could keep up. Nadia’s grandmother Katia was the very same, and the best was when Nadia, Natalia, and Katia all spoke together at the very same time!

It was funny though that at seven years old, Nadia spoke better English than either her mother or “Baboosa” as Nadia so lovingly referred to her grandmother. Nadia was the best English speaker in her family, but in Sunday school, she hardly spoke at all. But neither did I, and part of that shyness had to do with us trying to be the good kids.

You see, there were some very bad boys in our Sunday school. They would listen to Mrs. Sophie, but only because she was the most absolutely bestest teacher in the entire universe and was the most gentle terror to anarchy that ever graced a church basement. 

Most of the boys weren’t so bad on their own, but whenever Jarod was present, they acted up, inspired by their commander. Sir Jarod’s uniform was not exactly military garb, although he did display a plastic water gun from time to time. Mostly the terror of a child was clad in faded overalls, a baseball cap, and crocs laden with all manner of decorative pins.

I was afraid of Captain Jarod, as Nadia and I had taken to calling him. His imaginary clone had appeared in our Finlandia escapades whenever we tried to think up some not too torturous torture from which we needed to rescue the pony converts. But Miriam found out and told Nadia and I that it was mean to make Jarod the bad guy in our play. I had proceeded to argue that Jarod was the bad guy because he was mean. Miriam just didn’t seem to understand. At any rate, in accordance with Miriam’s chiding, Sir Jarod disappeared from Finlandia, but in his place arose Captain Jerry No Fun who had strikingly similar characteristics.

The Saturday before Daniel was going to teach our class, Nadia, Miriam, and I were playing Finlandia again as my family was having Katia, Natalia, and Nadia over for dinner. Captain Jerry No Fun had Rainbow Dream in his tickle torture chamber (aka the backyard shed) and we weren’t sure how long she would remain steadfast in her faith. I was about to bust into the dungeon with a pool noodle to free Rainbow Dream and to lovingly knock some sense into Captain Jerry No Fun but before I could thrash him at all, mom called us inside for dinner.

As we skipped towards the back porch, it suddenly dawned on me that I would be seeing the real Sir Jarod at Sunday school the next day. I shuddered slightly, but then an even worse thought invaded my active mind. I had failed to warn Daniel of the wrath of Jarod! My kind brother had no idea what he was in for! I assumed that Jarod was not as bad for Mrs. Sophie because who would ever hurt a sweet old lady, but what evils had he reserved for a strong teenage man in the prime of his youth? It made me sick.

“Nadia,” I whispered after my dad had thanked Jesus for the food, “we must warn Daniel about Sir Jarod!”

“Okay,” Nadia nodded earnestly. “We do it now, or no until he done his hotdog?”

“I think we’d better wait until after, lest we spoil his dinner,” I answered softly. “The news might make him sick.”

“Too bad he no can bring the pool noodle to Sunday school. Then he can make Sir Jarod be good,” Nadia sighed wistfully.

“Oh, Sunday school teachers can’t do pool noodles,” I answered. “It’s really too bad though that they can’t,” I added longingly.

“Mrs. Sophie no need pool noodle,” Nadia smiled brightly. “Her eyes are the noodle!”

“She has the nicest eyes though,” I answered, surprised by Nadia’s observation.

“Oh yes, she does,” Nadia agreed, smiling heartily. “I no mean that she is not nice. She is the most nice ever! But she will be so sad if kids are bad, that her eyes make you sad if you are bad. But then she will hug you with her eyes if you are sorry.”

“I wonder if Daniel has all those eye powers too?” I thought out loud.

“We ask him?” Nadia suggested.

I nodded, and then blurted, “Look, he’s just putting his paper plate in the trash can. This is our moment!” Nadia and I rushed over to Daniel in a less than subtle manner. All at once, the info spilled out. 

“Daniel,” I exclaimed. “Mrs. Sophie can hug with her eyes so you need to! Are pool noodles against the rules? Sir Jarod is out to get you! By the way, can you make your eyes into whacking noodles?”

“I hope not?” Daniel eyed me questioningly. “Who is Sir Jarod?”

“Oh,” laughed Lela, once again overhearing our precious conversation. “She’s talking about Jarod Netfield. He’s Stan and Marli’s boy.” Lela shook her head ruefully. “A handful for sure.”

“And the pool noodle?” Daniel asked incredulously.

“Their Finlandia game - it’s a reference,” Lela smiled playfully. “That’s how they thrash the bad guys.”

“Well, that’s not what a Sunday school teacher is supposed to do,” Daniel smiled too kindly for his own good. “My calling is to love those little ones and teach them Bible stories, and help them have a great time,” he grinned.

Lela lifted her eyebrows. “I, I, I..” she stammered. Sometimes, Lela could talk a million miles a minute when she was really excited. But sometimes, in everyday conversation, she would stutter and struggle to answer us back.

“I, I don’t think Jarod is capable of having a great time,” she pushed through and answered triumphantly.

“Well,” Daniel answered confidently, “he hasn’t met me yet.”

I had a bad feeling about things despite Daniel’s ease because true, Sir Jarod had not yet met Daniel, but it was equally true that Daniel had never met the infamous Sir Jarod.

That evening after Nadia had gone home, we kids were all sprawled out across the livingroom having a “quiet evening” as Daddy called our Saturday nights. He and Mama would often go for a walk and we kids would busy ourselves with all manner of calm kinds of fun. I liked calm fun. Some of my siblings did not. But in the end, we all managed quite nicely.

Our eldest sister Loraine would often sit with Lela, wholly enthralled with vocabulary flashcards. They were into languages, and since we had befriended Katia, Natalia, and Nadia, they had been learning Ukrainian.

Thirteen-year-old twins David and Sabina were playing Settlers of Catan with our ten-year-old brother Ricky. Sabina was less than subtly referring that the boys were ganging up on her, and I was totally willing to believe her testimony. Poor thing!

Meanwhile, Miriam and I were cutting out paper doll clothes on the coffee table which was littered with glue sticks, and paper clippings of all patterns and hues all scattered about.

My twin Isaiah was building a lego empire all throughout the realm of the woodstove hearth. But our oldest brother Daniel was perhaps that most absorbed in his endeavor, which was, as always, a book.

Daniel had read more books in the last six months than some people read in their lives! Daniel often had an extremely serious face when he read. It wasn’t that he was upset, although at first glance, one might make that assumption. But I had learned that when he had that far-off look in his eye, he was actually probably just peering into the jungles of Ecuador with Jim Elliot or planning to assassinate Hitler with Bonhoeffer or scaling Chinese mountains with Gladys Alyward. Or he might be reading up on how to clean a carburetor - Daniel was quite the handyman.

As I was trimming the hem of a paper doll’s skirt, I noticed a particularly intense gleam in Daniel’s eyes, and curiosity definitely got the better of me. I abandoned Miriam at the coffee table and plunked down on the couch next to Daniel. “Whatcha reading?” I asked sweetly. I had my tone as the youngest cutest child of nine down to a science as I tossed my auburn curls and blinked up at my big brother.

“David Brainerd,” he answered, without really even looking away from the book. The only time Daniel ever ignored us was when he was reading, and we had all learned to not take it personally.

“Makes sense you’d read about a brain nerd,” I smiled, “since you’re so smart and all.”

Daniel smiled, “Thanks Hannah,” he answered. “But it’s Brainerd, not brain nerd.”

“You just said the same thing twice,” I responded, confused. “Is it like in Urdu with big yay and little yay?” I asked, remembering a little from Loraine and Lela’s last language kick. “Like they are different but they sound the same?”

“There is a big difference between big yay and little yay,” Lela piped up from the other couch.

I shook my head. When I tried big people talk, it just made me look more like a little kid. It wasn’t my fault that I was the last one born in the family. I just hadn’t had as much years as all the teens. I decided to try changing the subject back to my original curiosity.

“So what’s it about Daniel?” I asked.

“Depression,” Daniel answered matter of factly.

“Like how to get rid of it?” I asked politely.

“Nope,” Daniel answered curtly. “Brainerd was depressed.”

“A depressed nerd,” I spoke softly. “Sounds a little boring.”

Daniel shook his head, turning the page with a flick of his thumb. “It’s fascinating,” he mumbled.

“Was he a missionary?” I asked. Usually Daniel’s books had something to do with that sort of thing. Daniel just nodded. “Where?” I asked. I knew I was being annoying, but I really was curious.

“The States,” he answered.

“Wait!” I perked up quickly. “Where was he from?”

“The States,” Daniel replied, his eyes scanning the lines of the next page.

“Not Africa? Not Timbuktu? Just the States?” I asked in shock.

“Timbuktu is in Africa, Hannah,” Sabina called from her Catan game as she finally got the longest road despite David’s and Ricky’s alliance.

“Yup, the Native tribes,” Daniel muttered.

“So I thought missionaries had to go some place else, but the brainy nerd was a missionary in the US,” I verbally processed. “Wait! So Daniel, you’re going to be my Sunday school teacher, so are you going to be a missionary?”

Daniel didn’t look like he heard me, but I did receive a courtesy nod. Well, I was pretty excited now. Daniel was a missionary, and he was probably even smarter than the brightest brain nerd around!

The next morning was bright and beautiful! Sunlight danced through the window-panes right into the trundle bed that was my own. It stuck out of the double bottom bunk that Miriam and Sabina shared. Lela and Loraine slept on the top. Dad had built it especially for us so that all five girls could sleep in the square footage that only occupied the equivalent of a double bed. My trundle slid under the bottom bunk when I wasn’t using it, but there was a hammock in the corner where any of us could have a catnap if we didn’t feel like sharing or pulling out the trundle slide. I was usually the one to occupy it.

Lela was already up. I knew because I could hear intricate melodies based on old hymns drifting upstairs. Lela didn’t read music, but she could play complicated pieces on the piano after hearing them just once - like a photographic memory, but for music. 

Lorraine was still reading her Bible on the top bunk. It seemed she never missed a morning of it - I had no idea how she was always able to find the time. Sabina and Miriam were still asleep. I could tell because Sabina snored. She was so spunky, she’d always deny it. I don’t think she would have confessed to it if we’d tickled her forever. But she did snore - and all the girls knew it.

I gazed into the open closet, trying to decide which dress I’d wear. Miriam always preferred a blouse and jeans, but I would never miss out on the opportunity to wear a dress - it made me feel so beautiful! And I had no competition for which one to choose because I was smaller than the other girls and the clothes that fit me were just for me. It was wonderful! There was at least one perk to being the littlest.

I wanted to wear something really nice because today was the day that my big brother became a Sunday-school teacher and I wanted to be a model pupil. That’s the kind of words that Loraine had used to describe me once when we were doing a spelling test. I thought I was kind of pretty, but not as pretty as a model. I liked Lorraine because she used old words like that. Sabina would sometimes laugh at Loraine because who talks like that anyway, but Loraine did, and I really wanted to be a model pupil (whatever that meant). I decided that meant a light blue dress with beautiful pink flowers all over with sunny yellow buttons coming down the front. It was my favorite.

By the time I made my way downstairs, the other girls were just starting to get ready. I looked around for my twin Isaiah. I didn't have long to search because there he was, laboring away on the lego empire that he had begun the day prior.

“Are you excited about Daniel teaching us?” I asked in elation.

Isaiah nodded. “It will be cool,” he smiled. “I’m just worried about Jarod,” Isaiah sighed. “He will probably kick Daniel.”

“Oh Isaiah,” I scolded. “Jarod is a bad kid, but he would never kick the teacher.”

“Something tells me that he will,” Isaiah responded in dejection.

“What tells you that?” I asked.

“Well, actually Jarod did,” Isaiah answered frankly.

“Oh that’s bad. That’s very bad,” I gasped.

“Trials and tribal lacerations,” Isaiah sighed.

I thought that maybe Isaiah had used the wrong word, but since I couldn’t remember the right one, I decided to forgo correcting him. A deep urge arose within my heart to warn Daniel. But there was a problem.

On Sunday mornings, we left for church at 9:45. Daniel was taking online Bible school and he usually started on weekdays by 7:00. That didn’t give him much time for “morning Bible study”, as he called it. I didn’t get it. Wasn’t Bible school studying the Bible? But Daniel said it wasn’t the same because he couldn’t study whatever he wanted in the Bible. Plus, he liked to learn about other places so he could pray for the people in those places. And all that took time - time that he didn’t really have when he was supposed to be studying. So Sunday mornings were his special time to do what he wanted to do. He wouldn’t leave his room until 9:40 when he had five minutes left to get ready for church. Most of the time, he didn’t get breakfast as he zoomed out the door and I had felt sorry for him until he told me that he was doing it on purpose. That made very little sense to me, but all I could guess is that whatever he was doing must have been really quite enjoyable.

Us little kids called it his "pray for the world time” and we tried not to disturb him. But this news of Jarod's horrid intentions, was it worth busting up Daniel’s special time? I decided to believe that it was. I made my little deliberate way up the stairs.

I pushed the door open to the boys’ room which had a double bed bunk just like the one in the girls’ room. Daniel was sitting at his desk reading that Brainerd book again. He looked up at me, his dusty brown hair all shaggy, waiting for that inevitable five minutes of aesthetic attention. 

“What is it Hannah?” Daniel smiled, welcoming me with his grin.

“It’s about Jarod,” I began.

Daniel smiled even wider, “you really are worried, you sweet little thing.”

“He will kick you,” I blurted out, curtly conveying the intel as calmly as I could muster.

“Who told you that?” he asked gently.

“Isaiah,” I sniffed, my emotions betraying my deliberate veneer. 

“I’ll ask you something Hannah,” Daniel smiled. “What is the very worst thing that could happen?”

“Getting kicked by Jarod,” I answered, slightly frustrated by Daniel’s lack of concern towards his plight.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Daniel asked.

I was shocked. Did Daniel not understand English?

Daniel took my hand and laughed. “The boys and I sometimes wrestle for fun, and I can guarantee little Jarod will not be half so hard on me as David or Ricky. Sunday school is going to be a blast. Just you wait and see. And you know what story we’re learning?”

I shook my head.

“Gideon!” Daniel exclaimed. “It will be awesome!”

“What if it goes bad?” I asked.

“Well then, it will be trials and tribulations, and God can use those.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Those are the words Isaiah used! Except he said it different. I think he said trials and trib…trie…tribal lasseractions.”

Daniel burst out laughing! He rolled back and forth and hugged his skinny knees up into his desk chair as tears danced down his face. Rarely did I ever see Daniel cry. He didn’t laugh a whole ton either. But now he was doing both. Was this some kind of nervous response to his coming woe?

“Now that would be a real…” Daniel tried to talk, but laughter kept choking out his words. “Talk about a tribulation…”

“Well maybe you could talk about something Daniel, because right now you’re laughing so much that you won’t say anything!” I scolded, those auburn curls bouncing in protest.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Daniel smiled at me.

“What about your pray for the world time, Daniel?” I asked.

“Well Hannah, you’re in my world and I think you need to enjoy some pancakes. And if it makes you feel better, we can enjoy them together.”

Well that was something! Fancy Daniel giving up “pray for the world time” to visit with me! And right then and there, I decided that he really was the bestest brother ever, and maybe even the bestest Sunday school teacher too.

I remember walking downstairs into the church basement, so excited because I was walking down with my brother, not just my twin brother, but my big brother! Nadia and I held hands. We were kind of shy and liked to be travel buddies. We filed into the dimly lit Sunday school room. It smelled of stale animal crackers and age-old chalk dust. Posters of Bible scenes lined the walls that boasted of bulletin pin holes and prohibited crayon markings, the closest any naughty little ones had been able to come to graffiti. 

Everything about our class was mini - the table and the chairs. Daniel was so tall and thus looked quite funny in the kid chair. Mrs. Sophie didn’t usually sit with us, so to see an adult in one of our chairs was really silly.

We kids took our seats. There were eight of us: Isaiah, Nadia, and me. Joseph and Lydia, siblings who liked to giggle a lot. They had brought a friend whom they explained was called Tyler. There was Adison. She was usually really nice. And then, there was Sir Jarod himself, twiddling a piece of chalk he had nabbed, busting it into bits and sprinkling them with nonchalant delight onto the defenseless carpet that practically trembled beneath his grubby crocs.

Daniel started with attendance. “I’m Daniel,” he began, “and I’m Isaiah and Hannah’s big brother.”

I was dismayed. Now that Jarod knew I was Daniel’s family, I wondered if I’d end up in a hostage situation (like Daisy Darling in Pony Prison when Nadia and I were in Purplestan).

“When I call out your name, you can say ‘here’ and then tell me your favorite Bible story and why,” Daniel smiled.

Isaiah said he liked David and Goliath because it is cool. Joseph said Joseph (obviously). I said Lazerus rising from the dead because I wish I could have seen it. Lydia said Queen Esther because she was like a super hero. Tyler said he’d never been to church before, but he liked the story of Spiderman. Nadia spoke little English, and very little at all in Sunday school. “Jesus’ birthday,” she whispered. “‘Cause I like Christmas.” Then Adison smiled, “I like Saul becoming Paul because then he turned nice.”

Jarod looked right into Adison’s sweet chocolate eyes as he smiled cruelly, “I like Ehud, ‘cause when the dude gets stabbed to death, he’s so fat that his guts spill all over the floor!”

Adison looked as though she might cry but Tyler grinned. “I kind of like church,” he laughed.

Daniel turned to the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk. “Okay,” he smiled. “So I’m going to draw out the story. Can anyone help me?”

Jarod raised his hand. “Thanks, buddy,” Daniel grinned. “So first, I want you to draw Gideon,” Daniel directed. To my surprise, Jarod did a good job. Never was there a finer stick man on the threshing floor.

“Okay, so God sent an angel to Gideon to tell him to rise up and rescue his people from their enemies, but Gideon was too afraid. But he was called by God to be a mighty warrior! Jarod, please draw the angel.”

Again, Jarod drew a nice mighty angel. I’d never seen one finer. Something was wrong. This was just too easy.

“Then when Gideon had gathered up an army,” Daniel continued. “God said it was too big. Jarod, please erase some of the men because God said that any man who was afraid could go home.”

Jarod erased some of the army, but as soon as Daniel turned his back, Jarod drew a whole multitude of more men. Joseph began to giggle.

Daniel went on about how the men drank from a stream and God told Gideon to send even more of them home while Jarod gave Gideon an angry face with bushy eyebrows. Lydia smirked a bit. I was indignant. Then when Daniel mentioned about the dream Gideon’s enemies had about the bread rolling down the mountain and Jarod drew a giant broccoli, I knew that enough was enough. Daniel still hadn’t turned around to look at the sinister sketches behind his back.

“But it wasn’t broccoli!” I exclaimed. Daniel whirred around to behold the dismal scene on the white board, complete with the addition of Spiderman taking out Ehud, guts flying all over the Midiantine camp.

“That’s not cool, little buddy,” Daniel began his all too mild lecture.

Jarod stuck out his tongue. “So what?” he began.

“If you don’t erase that scene, then I have no choice but to send you upstairs,” Daniel insisted. And with that, Jarod kicked Daniel as hard as he could, and Sir Jarod could kick very hard indeed. To my surprise, Daniel moaned, which I didn’t see coming. And then, Jarod turned and strode out the classroom door, grabbing an orange slice for the road from the snack platter.

The other kids were wide eyed. Daniel just erased the board and groaned, “well, then came the trumpets and jars.” And with that, he finished the story, although he looked dejected. Tyler’s hand shot up. “So what happened with Spiderman?” he asked.

“There was no Spiderman in the story,” Daniel sighed. 

Tyler shrugged as there most certainly had been a Spiderman in this rendition. “And the broccoli?” Tyler asked. I guessed that Tyler must have been a visual learner. Daniel just shook his head. That’s when Adison stepped into the situation.

“Tyler,” she began, “the point of the story is that God made Gideon into a mighty warrior and defeated the Midianites with a tiny army to show how strong He is. And that’s why we’re still talking about it today! Gideon displayed God’s glory and that’s why God called him a mighty warrior, not because of what he did, but because of who God is.”

Adison flashed a pretty and sincere smile, and for a moment, I thought I was gazing at a junior Mrs. Sophie. Maybe Adison would be a Sunday school teacher when she grew up? 

Then Joseph asked if we could play hangman while we waited for the parents, but Daniel said that as long as Christians were being martyred in Iranian prisons, he’d prefer not to have a hanging in Sunday school. Adison looked as though really was about to cry at that prospect. Daniel realized that he had traumatized a bunch of seven-year-olds with his brief analysis on the global church. To cheer everybody up, he suggested playing snowman (which was essentially the same thing with a less sinister premise). Tyler said that was lame and asked to play Ehud or Spiderman. And that’s when a parent came down and explained that church was over and that Daniel could lead the kids upstairs.

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief and filed us up the stairs. He then retreated back down to sweep the floor. He took a really long time, so I came back downstairs to find him. That’s when I saw him sitting on a kiddie stool, his head in his hands, unlike I’d ever seen him before. Sir Jarod had done his work well.

“It’s okay Daniel,” I began, attempting to console my brother. “Adison was able to tell the lesson.”

“That’s the problem Hannah,” Daniel sighed. “A seven-year-old girl can teach that class better than I can! No offense by the way,” he added quickly.

“It was Jarod’s fault. You know, that tribal lasseraction and all that. And Joseph should not have laughed at the giant broccoli. And Tyler shouldn’t have kept bringing up Spiderman.”

“But I was the leader Hannah, so I am the real failure.”

“Are you depressed?” I asked. “Because you sound like the brain nerd, very smart, but very sad. Maybe are all missionaries in America like that? Maybe you should go to the jungle instead, although please don’t, because I will miss you,” I added in sincere adoration.

“If I can’t handle getting kicked by a kid, I will not be of any use in the jungle,” Daniel sighed.

“You couldn't stand the tribal lasseraction?” I asked.

“It’s pronounced tribulation, and no, I guess I couldn’t,” Daniel replied, pushing his glasses back up onto his freckled face.

That evening, Daniel was a grumpy bear as he brooded on the couch over more of his brain nerd book. The rest of us watched Dave and the Giant Pickle for what was probably the eighteenth time since we’d gotten the DVD a year ago. 

The next morning was no better, except that Daniel was focussed on his Bible school. He was less sad, but he did exude dejection. Nadia came over later that day and Miraim decided that the three of us should leave Purplestan and go to Afghanland. You see, my great-grandma Lucy had crocheted this massive orange and brown afghan in the seventies (or so I had been told). There were a lot of grandchildren in the family, and so when she passed, her worldly goods were distributed between so many folks that all my dad ended up with was a vintage Singer sewing machine and that giant afghan.

We had spread it over the garage floor and it was the grounds of Afghanland where princess ponies had a wily nemesis, bands of cowboys who wanted to capture them and make them into mining ponies where they’d never see the light of day and so wouldn’t be able to spread the good news any more. One band of cowboys was particularly notorious. We called them the Tallies because they kept a tally mark for each princess pony they captured. So when the Tally Band of Afghanland was after Shimmer Shine, a rainbow colored mare who was teaching a Sunday school, we went on an epic rescue mission.

It was fun, but afterwards, I turned to Miriam and Nadia and gravely explained, “now we must get serious.”

“We’re in Afghanland in Tally Band territory! How much more serious can we get?” asked Miriam.

“No, I mean about Daniel. He is very sad and we really should do something to cheer him up!” I argued chipperly.

“Like what Hannah?” asked earnest Nadia.

“We need to show Daniel that he did not do a bad job in Sunday school,” I explained.

“I don’t know Hannah. We can’t fix him,” Miriam cautioned, her three extra years on the planet shining through in a glimmer of rationality.

“Maybe he like to come on adventure with us,” Nadia suggested.

“Absolutley!” a voice rang out from behind us. Due to the post traumatic stress disorder of being in Afghanland, we all jumped a bit. But it was just Sabina.

Now Sabina was not like my other sisters. She had a lot more spunk than they did. Her long dark hair fell so straight down her back, and although it was so thick and pretty, she covered it with dad’s old baseball cap. She always wore faded jeans and some thrifted sweater. She could care less what people thought of her and she was always in for an adventure. I really loved Sabina. I didn’t always feel as safe when I was with her as I did when Loraine was in charge. But it was much more fun when Sabina took the lead. I can put it that way.

“You know what Daniel needs to jolt him out of his grumpy snap?” she smiled, a glimmer of mischief in her chestnut eyes.

“What?” we asked, wide eyed and adventure thirsty.

“He needs to join you in Finlandia!” she exclaimed.

“Oh,” I hesitated, “we don’t let boys into Finlandia.” Naida, Miriam, and I had once allowed Isaiah and Ricky admittance into our fairy country, but within five minutes, Ricky had been killed by Sir Jerod and Isaiah was suffering such immense torture that we had begun to squirm. The only torture we allowed in Finlandia was the tickle chamber. And when Isaiah exclaimed that his leg had been cut off, Miriam had scolded him.

“No, it’s not,” she had argued. “It’s just hurt really badly.”

“Nope,” Isaiah had tersely replied with a smug grin. “They cut it off.”

And that was the end of boys in Finlandia, because, as we girls had discovered, they just didn’t play nice.

Now, Sabina knew that dark chronicle of Finlandia history and smiled reassuringly. “Daniel will play nice.”

Well, it wasn’t like I could argue. Perhaps it would do Daniel some good to feel like a hero, in fact, we girls decided right then and there that we would make Daniel our fearless hero, our rescuer, our knight in shining armour, the one who would save the day and also spread the gospel in Afghanland.

It would be hard to tear him away from his studies, but I knew if anyone could accomplish the feat, it would be me, his sweet youngest littlest cutest sister.

I tiptoed up the stairs and knocked on the door to his room. Daniel was the only one of us who had his own room, but to be fair, it was a renovated walk-in closet. His desk took up most of the room and then his bed was a short loft overtop. It wasn’t much, but it did give him a quiet place to study. To my surprise, Daniel was not studying. He was reading that Brain Nerd book. This time, his eyes did not stay glued to the page. Instead, he looked up at me and smiled wearily.

“Hannah, what is it?” he asked kindly.

“The mission fairies have an urgent need. I have come to the land of the upstairs on my furrow to request support.”

“You mean furlow?” Daniel asked, amusement written across his face.

“Maybe it’s actually called deputy something - not lascration, I know that much. Deputy nation?” I fumbled.

“Furlow and deputation,” Daniel chuckled. “Well miss ambassador, what is your request to the land of the upstairs?”

“Every time the cowboy band takes a pony prisoner, they make a tally mark. They have fifteen tallies. Usually, Miriam, Nadia, and me go and rescue ponies easy peasy. But this time, it’s trickier. It’s more dangerous. We need an, oh, what was the word Miriam used?” The word had escaped my memory! I was very bad at remembering words sometimes.

“I think she said we needed a projector, or a detector, or wait, no, protector! Ya, that’s it. Miriam said that for this mission, we needed a guy to be our protector. And last time, Ricky got himself killed and Isaiah only had one leg by the end, and we were just in Purplestan at that point. Boys don’t play nice.They always make up that something terrible happens. But you do play nice, and will you please, please, pretty please play with us?” I ended my presentation in a flourish.

Daniel smiled. “Okay, I’m in,” he exclaimed, jumping up with zealous determination. “Where to?” he asked.

“Afghaland,” I whispered with fervor. At this, Daniel laughed aloud.

“And from whom are we rescuing the pony congregation?”

“The Tally Band,” I answered ominously.

Daniel laughed until he cried. This was not a good sign. If Daniel could not be serious, he would wreck the game. I frowned to express my disapproval.

“How do you even know about that stuff?” he asked.

“Lela came up with all the ideas. She doesn’t usually play with us, but she comes up with names for stuff and sends us on missions. Then she uses big words and doesn’t take it seriously, but at least she has good play ideas,” I shrugged.

Daniel wasted no time in getting to the garage where Sabina, Miriam, and Nadia awaited us.

“Welcome to the mission,” Miriam spoke, offering the right hand of fellowship to the newest laborer. “In this mission, we all have code names. I am Miracle because it sounds like Miriam and usually, if I get into prison, there’s an earthquake, and sometimes, ponies get healed when I pray for them, so that’s also why.”

“I’m Holy Hannah ‘cause it has the same letters and also ‘cause mama says that Jesus makes us holy - that means set apart,” I smiled, excited to share what I had learned.

Daniel looked to Nadia who searched her mind for English words that would express all the Ukrainian that flew through her head. “I’m a way maker - my favorite song. God is Way Maker, so I not named for making the way, just for liking the song.”

Daniel laughed. “Okay, Miracle, Holy Hannah, and Way Maker, I’ll be…”

“No Daniel!” I piped up. “I already have a name for you.”

“And what might that be?” Daniel furrowed his brow in amusement.

“Brain Nerd!” I jumped up and down with excitement. “You’re so smart, and you’re a real missionary, I mean mission fairy. Actually, I don’t think a boy can be a fairy, so you can be a, a…”

“Leaperchan!” Miriam exclaimed.

Daniel folded his arms over his chest. “No, I will not be a leprechaun. I’ll be a cowboy. That way, I can chase away the Tally Band and free the ponies on my noble steed, Sus - that’s Hebrew for steed.”

Leave it to Daniel to come up with a Bible school name for his horsey! “And what about Sabina?” Daniel asked, eyeing the root of this whole scheme with playful teasing. 

“I’ll be the pony you need to rescue. That way…”

“That way she can sit in the shed and read Elizabeth Elliot like a hermit. No way,” Daniel countered playfully. “I think she is Lady Rainbow Shiny Sparkle Perfect Princess Pretty Girly Giggle Tiara Lovey Dovey Happy Smiling Dutchess of Flower World whose parents sent her on a YWAM trip. She doesn’t know the half of what she bargained for, because she was signed up to go to Hawaii during her gap year, but there wasn’t space in the program, so they sent her to join us in Afghanland."

Sabina rolled her eyes. “But I can read the Bible in Greek and my uprising in total luxury has not at all tainted my courage nor my compassion,” she eyes Daniel adamantly.

“A solid compromise, Miss Rainbow,” he grinned.

“What’s YWAM?” I asked.

“Youth With Awesome Memories", he answered.

“Whatever,” Sabina rolled her eyes at David. “So, Brain Nerd, what’s your plan?”

“I say we infiltrate the headquarters and take out the leaders. If we’re strategic, we’ll be able to take cover after wiping out at least twenty percent of the inner terrorist ring,” Daniel answered vigorously, throwing himself into his newfound role wholeheartedly. 

“Daniel,” Sabina smiled spunkily. “Mission fairies don’t shoot guns, drop bombs, or ‘take out’ anybody. They have better weapons like the special sparkle - pink dust that temporarily blinds the enemy.”

“Uh hu,” Daniel nodded keenly, “like a princess flash grenade.”

“Now you’re talking,” Sabina smiled.

“Thanks Miss Lovey Dovey Happy Smily…”

“Would you cut that out?” Sabina interrupted in good humor.

And so it was that Miracle Miriam, Holy Hannah, Nadia Way Maker, Lady Rainbow Shiny Sparkle Perfect Princess Pretty Girly Giggle Tiara Lovey Dovey Happy Smiling Dutchess of Flower World, and the Brain Nerd set out to rescue some Christian pony converts from the Tally Band of Afghanland.

At first, the mission went smoothly as the posse crept out of the garage, around the house, and straight to the tree fort in the backyard that was nestled six feet up a formidable cottonwood at the edge of their family’s eight acres of woods. There’s a Tally Band man up there,” I whispered to Brain Nerd.

“I say Miracle climb up there, shoots out that pink blinding sparkle dust and then I’ll climb up and tie him to a chair, and then I’ll make him talk,” Brain Nerd answered.

“Um, girls, I think what the Nerd is trying to say is that we will have a friendly discussion in which we share the gospel through a contextual cultural method that makes our friend up there feel at ease and loved,” the Duchess of Flower World suggested with a smile. “Then he will become a believer in Jesus and will help us to rescue the ponies,” she added with an annoying flourish.

The girls began jumping up and down. “Oh that sounds like fun!” I cried.

“Not bad Perfect Princess Pretty…”

But Sabina cut off the Brain Nerd in mid phrase. “Just something I picked up from YWAM.”

The three of us younger girls scampered up the tree, leaving Sabina and Daniel to gaze up through the sunbathed foliage. Once we had gotten up into the tree fort, a sudden wave of genius struck me.

“Maybe the bad guy does not become good,” I burst aloud to my teammates’ shock. “What if we escape him with a map of where the ponies are being held captive. Like, what if he tries to capture us, but there is like an earthquake or something and then we get the map and he gets confused, and then we get away.”

“Let’s get going,” Miracle Miriam agreed, fire in her eyes. Miriam loved a good miracle. It was an epic scene, really, full of daring and grit and faith and sparkle - we always added sparkle.

We flew down the tree fort ladder, an invisible and hard earned map in our keeping.

Brain Nerd and the Dutchess of Flower World were both amazed, for we had not fought nor converted the Tally Band, only escaped them. 

“Why didn’t you blind him?” Brain Nerd asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Why didn’t you evangelize him?” Sabina asked wistfully.

It was Miracle’s moment, her speech. In her best Winston Churchill impression, she straightened her shoulders and declared. “We have survived. We have tried our best. We have done what we could. We have nothing but what was our duty.  Until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old, the old ponies,” she added, slightly choppily. Miriam had been memorizing Churchill’s address and so she threw in some for good measure.

“You know,” I spoke up to impart some wisdom, “there is a pony proverb that says, “God does the battling; I do the believing . God does the saving; I do the serving.”

For a moment, it looked as though the Brain Nerd was miles away, perhaps in a universe of his own, but then, he came back to earth in a flash as his eyes snapped in perplexity. “Did you come up with that?” he asked.

“Nope. That one was mama, but I like it,” I smiled prettily. I couldn’t tell what my big brother was pondering, but somehow I knew it wasn’t the tally Band or the ponies of Afghanland.

Having the map, we were ready for the second phase of our mission, using our intel to free the hostages. Free them we did, with the Brain Nerd as our fearless leader. Armed with pool noodles, we issued the most epic rescue possible and we happened to meet Sir Jaer Bear just as we came to the climax of the rising action! He happened to have an evil Spiderman who was waving a giant broccoli club, but Ehud took him on and it was fantastic! Daniel laughed so hard that I thought his head would pop off.

After our play subsided, Daniel smiled more seriously. “I think I know what you girls are trying to do,” he smirked. I stared at the grass trying not to give off the all too obvious trying-to-cheer-you-up vibes. “I like what you said about God doing the saving and battling and us just serving and believing,” he continued.

It looked as though I had successfully brightened the Brain Nerd’s mood. In fact, he stayed fairly exuberant throughout that week. The following Sunday, he seemed ready to take on the rowdy class with renewed optimism. It seemed that my little scheme had paid off, but it nearly seemed too good to be true. 

I ruefully tread down the carpeted stairs to the church basement, and as I noticed Jarded out of the corner of my eye, my stomach twisted up in knots. Isaiah, Nadia, Joseph, Lydia, and Adison were there. Tyler seemed to have enjoyed last week’s fiasco and so had come for round two. And of course, Jardod had come stomping into the class, a scowl plastered across his mischievous countenance.

Daniel took a deep breath and began a modest retelling of Sampson - the rated G version of course. I could see Jarod’s eyes lighting up as it dawned on him what a fantastic opportunity Sampson's tale presented in which to wreak havoc on Sunday school as we knew it.

Honestly, his comments were so brutal that I think I blocked it out. Childhood trauma? Maybe. But more likely, his comments were so worthless that they were not worth remembering. What was worth recollection though was the way my big brain nerd of a brother calmly defused the heckling, not by grand rebuke or adept clarification, but by a quick and curt “no” or a soft but firm “enough Jarod” or a resolute “we don’t talk like that in Sunday school”.

I mean, in Daniel’s defense, it wasn’t like he chose the book of Judges for his Sunday school debut. I think he was hoping for David and Goliath or Daniel in the Lion’s Den, but Sampson it was, and my brother made the best of it. 

I wouldn’t say his was a stellar sermon. I wouldn’t say that behavior in Sunday school dramatically improved - except that is, when Jarod had his tenth birthday and graduated into the next room. Daniel still had five months ahead of facing Jarod each week. What I did see was less deflation upon what may have otherwise looked like failure.

I had tried to give him a Sunday school answer for a Sunday school problem. Usually the Sunday school answer is “Jesus!” But in this case, I suppose it was. The patience that I watched develop within my brother was nothing short of a Jesus miracle. In my books, my brain nerd was a missionary, and he needed nothing but Sunday school answers.