She arrives at the school an hour and ten minutes before classes are to begin and parks in a tiny spot without a reserved sign. She's early because it takes 45 minutes to drive if she leaves home at six, 90 minutes if she leaves later, and then she'd be late for her most important task of the day.

She drops her bundles beside a box of papers "to be graded." She opens the Bible at her desk and reads the same chapter she read just before bed last night. "After sleeping on it, the chapter means even more to me in the morning."

Her prayer begins near the back of the room. "I pray for each child each morning," she says. "Usually I touch their desk and ask God to help me think about something we can do that will make each child feel special."

She prays for each student and then prays for each teacher, and for the mother who does the janitorial work each evening. Then she's ready for the most important task of the day.

Her key rattles in the front door just as third-grader Mario runs up the steps. He's always first because his grandpa drops him off on his way to work. She waves at Grandpa, and then gives Mario a high-five. They laugh together as she goes out to the sidewalk, where her "most important task of the day" is to greet the parents.

"I learn more beside the windows of cars than I could ever hope to learn in any other way," she says.

"Did you know that the Jacksons have a new pony, and it's not eating well? Or that Mrs. Greenlaw's family is really worried about Grandma's cancer? Or that Mark got into poison oak Sunday and will be itching up a storm all week? That's what I learn at the cars."

I chuckled and asked, "How is that the most important task?"

"Easy," she answered. "Every morning I remind parents that our job is to make this the safest place in the world for children to fall in love with Jesus. Nothing is more important than for them to see my smile, hear the authentic interest in my questions, and recognize the personal honor I give them for being parents of some of the greatest kids in God's kingdom."

"How is there time for all that?"

"It doesn't take time," she laughed. "It takes transparent love. Sometimes all I do is make eye contact and wave, but often my wave begins a 15-second conversation that focuses my prayers, and helps us personalize our love for their child. Remember, these parents are allowing us to be their partners!"

She's in front of the school every morning. Dozens of backpacks guided by her helping hands. Tears and a prayer at the window of an old Toyota. Shouted celebrations beside an orange VW. Lots of waves and honks. Twenty-five minutes of trust-building.

And then it's over. She takes a couple deep breaths and dashes for her classroom.

"Look up 2 Corinthians 5:14 in The Message," she says, "that guides all of my work."

"God's love is the first and last word in everything I do."

Dick Duerksen is the official storyteller for Maranatha Volunteers International. Readers may contact Dick at ddureksen@maranatha.org.