The people started coming in at 3:00, but the dessert tables remained unmanned. Children loitered in the area, eyeing the cotton candy and the popcorn machines with barely-veiled interest. The vast majority of their attention, however, was reserved for an innocently closed cooler, as they wondered what could possibly be stored inside. And when I lifted the lid, pressured by their insistent questions, the surrounding children all gasped. Stacks of popsicles filled the container to the brim, with flavors ranging from coke to milk to tropical fruit. Simultaneously, all the children turned pleading eyes to me, questioning me as to when we would start serving. I hated to crush their dreams, but…
“It’s not open yet,” I said apologetically.
The children glanced between each other and seemed to come to an unanimous decision. “That’s okay,” one child piped up, “We’ll just wait here.”
And wait there they did; ten, fifteen, minutes passed, but they stayed stubbornly put, and every time I walked past them, they looked at me again with those pleading eyes, asking again and again if we were able to start selling yet. The final time, I mentally threw my hands up in the air and caved.
The children got their popsicles. Although the popsicles were unopened and not frozen, they were unfazed, coming one after another to pick out the flavor that they wanted, with almost indescribable looks of happiness on their faces. Delight at finally getting their treats, delight at all the activities available to them, delight at Vision Sunday itself—it all radiated off of their shining eyes and beaming smiles. And though I’m sure the popsicles contributed to that happiness, I think their true joy came from participating in Vision Sunday, from being part of that great day of worship and fun.