Heartache

I'm a teacher-a fourth grade language arts teacher to be more precise. It is a place I never envisioned myself from that youthful, starry-eyed vantage of youth. Yet, here I am.

In an effort to help pull engaging stories from my students yesterday, I introduced them to the concept of emotional levels. The lighthearted laughter vibrated in the room as we tossed around numerous level one topics. Students nodded vigorously at every mentioned topic because those comprise their every day lives. As the lesson progressed; however, the mood in the room shifted and the students became somber and reflective, each reliving private sorrows. I looked into their eyes and was startled at their familiarity. This was a pain I knew all too well- a pain that still haunts me and one I'd just as soon forget ever made me who I am. It is the thing I wrestle with God the most about. Why THIS story? I still don't have the answers to that, and may never. I do trust my Father though, and as best as I am able, accept the reality of the memories that shaped and deepened me.

Those sweet little eyes fighting tears or hollowness searched mine for relief. The burden of knowing that I can't pluck them out of their circumstances and blow a puff of amnesia dust in their faces so they'll forget weighed heavy on my heart. I saw myself in them and remembered my own fears. I didn't have much to bring them, but what I had, I offered. From my own anguish, but with the wisdom of adult eyes, I helped them to see their worlds as they should be... as children who were placed in circumstances beyond their control or ability to understand. I explained they have choices within their circumstances.

Some of them will fling their child's heart far from themselves and watch it shrivel under the cruel rays of adult responsibilities and worries. However, I hope that at least one of them will understand that they are not to blame, nor are they responsible for fixing the adults around them who make evil or foolish choices. Maybe that one will be able to detach themselves from God's role in their parents lives and their own. It is the prayer that comes to my lips for them all, for myself even after all these years.

Sorrow is abundant. It surrounds us all, wearing a thousand different faces. May we all walk through those sorrows under His wings where we are safe and comforted.