At 7:45 on a summer Monday morning, I never expected to find two little children waiting on the steps by the church hall. The pastor hadn’t even arrived yet. And who were these children? Two little boys, the taller one with hair the color of cornstalks, the younger one with short auburn spikes. I had never seen them before this bright sunny morning.

     “Good morning,” I smiled as I got out of the car in the parking place closest to the steps.

     “Good morning M’am,” the largest of the two boys said in a voice as slight as his small body.

     “Are you here for Vacation Bible School?”

     “Yes, M’am. A neighbor told us we could come.”

     “Is this person holding your hand, your brother?”

     “Yes M’am.  He’s almost 5.  I’m almost 7.”

     I looked at them as I walked closer to them and onto the steps.  The speaker with bright blue eyes was so small I would have guessed he was five, and his brother, who had brown eyes, maybe I would have guessed he was almost four. Our Vacation Bible School, one week in duration, 9-12 each day, had a set age for participants. Ages 5 to 14 could attend. If someone older than 14 wanted to attend, we asked them to be a helper. The younger age was an arbitrary choice based on choosing an age when children are usually well toilet-trained.

     “I’m Mrs. Heslinga. I’m the director this year, so I arrived early.” Over my shoulder was the strap of one of my largest purses filled with odds and ends I might need this day. In my left hand was a bag filled with three boxes of fresh donuts for teachers and helpers on break. Those that drank coffee or some other morning beverage would bring that on their own, but I’d make a pot of coffee in the kitchen too. I had the keys to the door in my right hand.

     “Yes, M’am. I’m Stephen. This here is Dan. We didn’t know when this summer school started but our neighbor told us, Monday morning early.”

     Summer school? These two had turned out early for a summer school? Maybe it was their first experience with a Vacation Bible School, often just advertised by VBS. What child could guess what that meant?

     “Who is your neighbor?” I asked as I unlocked the door of the church hall. The door opened into the church kitchen, a large rectangle with light blue walls, maple syrup color cabinets, and an old linoleum floor of squares brown and beige. It had two ovens, two refrigerators, a small freezer, a double sink on the far wall and under windows, lots of counter space, an island, and upper and lower cupboards all around the room.

     In the open doorway, I turned to face Stephen and Dan. Stephen answered, “Don’t know M’am. We only lived here a few days. The lady is friendly, but never told us her name. She told us how to walk here. It about five blocks.”

     It was still minutes before 8 a.m. as Stephen and his brother stood facing me. Their faces and hands looked clean, but their hair looked uncombed and their clothes, well worn, did not look clean. There was no way I could send them away and ask them to come back at 9.

     “Well, you boys come on inside now. You are early, but you can be my helpers or help some of the teachers who will arrive soon.” I put my purse down on a chair, the keys in my skirt pocket, and the bag of boxes of donuts on the kitchen island.

     Stephen and Dan came right inside, quick steps and new moon smiles.

     Boxes and bags of goodies that would be given out at snack time were stacked on the island behind the bag of donuts.  Stephen and Dan’s eyes went right to those items, but they didn’t move from standing just inside the doorway.

     “Would you boys like a donut and some milk?” They were so slight for their ages; I couldn’t believe they had regular nutritious meals. We always had milk in one of the refrigerators for the coffee people would drink.

     They both nodded. Stephen said, “Yes, thank you, M’am.”

     Poor clothing, underweight, messed up hair, sparkly watchful eyes, but clean faces, hands, and such polite manners, children could be so unexpected from appearance to words. In my years of teaching, I’d seen it the other way too. Children who came from homes with everything they could possibly need could speak rudely, meanly, thoughtlessly.

     “Sit on that bench there,” I pointed to a bench for two near the door. In a few minutes, I had given them a paper cup of milk and a napkin. They were so small for their ages that they still had enough room on the bench even after they sat down to put the cup on the napkin beside them.  I carried a box of donuts toward them.

     “You boys each choose one of these that you’d like.” I opened the cover of the box revealing a variety and leaned toward them to display the donuts more clearly. Their faces and hands were clean but they smelled like little boys who hadn’t had a shower or bath for awhile.

     Dan didn’t move except to watch his older brother. Stephen looked into the box for a moment, then carefully chose a plain donut lightly frosted with colorful sprinkles. He gave this to Dan. Then he looked up at me. “If I take the other donut with sprinkles, there won’t be none like that for anyone else.”

     “You can have that donut, Stephen.  I have two more boxes of donuts for the other people who will choose them.” He took the other donut with sprinkles. “Thank you, M’am.”

     “You boys eat up now. I have to do a bunch of things before the teachers get here.”

     Dan was too young for VBS, but I would let him stay in the Primary class with Stephen. Dan hadn’t said anything. He seemed entirely dependent on being close to his older brother, and it was an obvious mutual need and affection.

     When I checked with teachers and assistants of the Primary class at the end of the VBS time, the craft leaders and playground supervisors all had a good report about Stephen and Dan. No one had heard Dan speak, and anyone who heard from Stephen said he was polite. The two boys had stayed close to one another all morning, followed directions, but not done much socializing with other children. Of course, in our town, not too many newcomers showed up at a Vacation Bible School so our Primary children didn’t go out of their way to welcome these new people either. I made a note to work on welcoming strangers with all the K-12 age groups in the church.

     I did not tell Stephen and Dan to wait and come later each day, so they were always at the church by the time I arrived. Each day I left earlier from home than I had planned because I knew they would be waiting. I didn’t beat them to the church until Thursday. Each day they came inside and had a donut and milk. From Tuesday onward I’d take them to the church library after they finished their snack and tell them to enjoy looking at books. Walking by the room distributing supplies, I could see Stephen turning pages in the books for Dan who cuddled up against him.

     Friday, we had a program planned with a light lunch so that people picking up the children could see what their children had learned and socialize. I managed to sidle up to Stephen and Dan and asked if anyone like their neighbor or mom had arrived.

     “No M’am, they’re busy. But can Dan and me have some of the lunch anyway?”

     “Of course, it is for everyone here today.” I taught in the church Sunday School program too, so I invited Stephen and Dan to come to that too. Stephen nodded understanding and said, “Thank you,” in his cotton soft voice.

      For a few weeks after VBS I arrived extra early on Sunday mornings, but the boys didn’t show up. I told the Pastor to be on the lookout for them too. He would have gone to visit the home, but they hadn’t known their address. When I offered to walk home with them one day, Stephen had seemed concerned.

      In his tone, so soft I had to lean closer to hear him, he said, “Oh no, M’am. Mom would be—shy of that.” Shy? I didn’t think that was the right word because I could tell Stephen did not want me to go to where they lived.

     How often do people cross our paths, come into our lives for a short time, participate and yet not belong? They don’t feel a belonging with us and they don’t feel a belonging anywhere. It wasn’t until school started in the fall that I learned more about Stephen and Dan.

      Their neighbor turned out to be one of the teacher aides in the public elementary school where I taught. She came to my classroom one morning early in the first week of school. Most teachers and their aides arrived early. Classes were full and had such a variety of needs.

     “Virginia, I’ve been looking for a chance to talk with you. I wanted to thank you for giving Stephen and Dan a great week at VBS. I saw them a few times later in the day on those VBS days, and I always asked them about their time in VBS. They enjoyed it. They told me a lot about what they did and heard and sang. They especially said they liked the donuts and milk in the morning. Donuts with sprinkles they said.”

     “Dan too?”

     She laughed, “No just Stephen spoke for both of them. I did see Dan whisper to Stephen sometimes but he doesn’t ever say anything to me.”

     “So, they live next door to you?”

     “They did. They were only here for about a month. They moved in two weeks before VBS and left about a week afterward. The landlord of that little duplex has one family that has been in there renting for a couple of years, but the other side of the house, the side Stephen and Dan and their mom lived in, seems to have only short-term renters.”

     “You don’t know anything else about them, where they came from or where they went?”

     “Turns out I know their aunt. Stephen told me she helped them find a place. From what I can tell, the mom has addiction problems. Their aunt and uncle were trying to help her. They paid the monthly rent for her and hoped she would get a job while she was here. She didn’t and before they could work out something else, she moved, went away with some guy, and of course, dragged the boys along with her. It is so sad for those boys, sweet kids. According to the aunt, every guy the mom gets involved with seems worse than the one before.”

     “Does anyone know where she went with the boys?”

     “Oh my, yes and no. Yes, the aunt heard from the mom that she was moving to Louisiana, the home of the guy she hooked up with, but no exact address.”

     “Louisiana? Boy, that’s far away from New Jersey. And they’ve moved a lot?”

     “Yes, a lot according to the aunt. They’ve lived several places in New Jersey, went to Pennsylvania with one boyfriend, I think maybe that was Dan’s father. Not surprising they have different fathers, is it?”

     “I guess not. It is a sad life for so many people, but kids are especially helpless when parents have addictions. I’m glad those boys could have a good week in Vacation Bible School, but it’s sad to see another case of such an insecure household. That’s so tough on kids.” We talked a short while longer about rough upbringings so many children had to face. We had students being raised by their grandparents because of their parents having addictions. We had students who lived in single-parent households like Stephen and Dan’s. We agreed on trying to do our best to have students feel safe in their time and learning with us. Then our busy days started.

     When I saw this teacher aide again to talk to, it was November. I saw her in the popular Super Fresh grocery store. Super Fresh had cheerful stripes of green all around the store and bright lighting which I appreciated on this gray and rainy day. I often ran into parents or students in this store. Sometimes young students stopped in shock as if to say, “Our teacher has to grocery shop?”

     Now, the aide in front of me had such a frown on her normally smiling face that I reached out to touch her shoulder and said, “How are you?”

     In the next instant, she burst into tears and reached out with one of her hands to cover one of my hands on the grocery cart handle. I placed my other hand atop hers and waited. In a minute she gathered her breath and emotions enough to talk.

     “I got such bad news from Stephen and Dan’s aunt when I asked about how they were doing in Louisiana.”

     Inside I could feel myself pulling up my emotional shield. I waited for her to say more. I did not want to cry in the supermarket aisle and considering the aide’s tears, the mom these boys had, and her choice of boyfriends, this could be miserable news.

     With both of her hands, she squeezed mine. “Stephen is dead.”

     “What?” The emotional shield had been cracked in an instant.

     “His aunt doesn’t know many details, but Stephen drowned.”

     “He drowned? Stephen drowned?”

     She kept squeezing my hand so her tears ran down her face unhindered. “He drowned- - in a bathtub. Dan has been taken into child protective services.”

     We hugged each other and cried together in the supermarket aisle.

***

            It has been more than thirty years since I met Stephen and Dan, but I have never forgotten them. Because of Stephen, I look at students and children I encounter in stores, parks, churches, any social gatherings, and wonder what burdens and sorrows they carry from their youngest years. Young faces that open with trust or delight over some surprise can hide ongoing pain and worries.  I am challenged to make each student I meet know they have value; they belong as someone precious at least for the time they are with me.

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