When I was little, a Mennonite would come by the house every summer and invite all of the kids on my street to attend Bible school. We'd wait at the corner each night and he would pick us up in his black car and take us to the meetinghouse, built in 1810, down the road. I looked forward to it every year.
I still remember the song we sang when Bible school ended for the night. (Bible school is over and we are going home. Goodbye. Goodbye. We hope to see you soon.) And we always had cookies and punch, another reason why I liked this Bible school.
Sometimes, I wish my children could have experienced my childhood -- life in a small town with one traffic light, snowballs sold off the back of a neighbor's porch, a park program that always featured a penny carnival and tons of contests, a winding stream to slosh through and oh so much more. What about you? Any summer memories to share?