I'm sure it never occurred to you. Never saw the hurt or anguish in my eyes as I sat in the room with you. Sunday after Sunday as you taught their little class.
Yes, I watched closely even though I too was only a child at the time. At about age 11 or 12, you asked me to be your helper. I saw how you treated them. Differently. So differently than you treated me.
And all the time I was wondering if you loved them better. Loved them better than me.
Was it that you didn't expect the same things from them? Or was it because you only had them on Sundays? Or did they strike a different chord in your heart?