Satisfy
us by your lovingkindness in the morning; so shall we rejoice and be glad all
the days of our life. Psalm 90:14
Lovingkindness can look like sweet
rolls beat together at four in the morning. I woke up with a start, remembering
that I had made a promise to one of my kiddos. And now they are baking, pretty
much looking just perfect and gooey beyond belief. And I pounded out the speed
swim set this morning with the kid from Mexico City, and we rocked the
interval. Man, even dragging the recycle and garbage bins out in time this
morning before the big truck rumbles down the street is a pretty rejoicing
moment.
But joy is bigger than these bits of
manna, even if they are from the hand of God.
So Monday’s afterschool Writer’s Circle
got way angsty. And our guest speaker who has published over forty
young teen novels really had no clue of what fourteen-year-olds are all about.
She was almost in tears after the last aspiring author gathered up her notebook
and walked out the door. “My childhood wasn’t anything like this. I mean, I was
kind of shy and quiet. But these kids… wonder if I say something wrong and they
go out and commit suicide? I don’t know if I can do this.”
And yesterday two of the authors asked
me about why the conversation got so bad, so dark, so quickly. And we talked
about light shining in the darkness and noticing beauty and standing courageous
against the shadows. As they wrapped their gift around my wrist… twisted
threads whose renaissance colors meant wisdom, kindness and love.
And the girl who always squeezes my
elbow just like Everette when she talks to me, asked me yesterday what was the
all-out craziest thing I had done for my kiddos as a teacher. And I remembered
the time that I hefted two students over the back wall of the school so my dad,
who “just happened” to be driving by could pop them into his car and drive them
home even though my mom was having a big dinner party and because I didn’t want
to tell any fibs to inquisitive authorities, I slid into the gym where the
girls basketball team was practicing, and sat on the floor beside the folded-up
bleachers. And when one of the basketball players asked me what I was doing
there, sitting on the floor, I asked her if she would let me duck into the back
seat of her car and drive me home so the policeman outside wouldn’t see me. And
her eyes got real big, but she said yes, and that was pretty all-out crazy. But
the basketball player’s mother called me that evening and thanked me for
showing her daughter what it meant to stand up against injustice.
And yesterday in social studies we
learned that standing up sometimes means sitting down. The kids are doing
powerpoints about lights shining in the darkness against injustice, and the
sitting down of Rosa Parks set off a revolution in a country jam-packed full of
injustice. As part of our Civil Rights unit we are reading To Kill a
Mockingbird and thinking about Atticus Finch and what it means to make
hard stands for justice, even when you know you are going to lose. Tom Robinson
was never going to be declared innocent by an all-white jury when it was his
black word against a white man’s word. And why was the jury all white? Because
only registered voters were on juries, and people had to pass a literacy test
before they registered, unless, of course, their Pre-Civil-War grandpa before
them was a registered voter. And I am pretty much betting that not so many
voters, or let’s say it, president-elects, could pass this test even today.
And they are taking notes on character
traits, and moments of consequence, and impact. And their reflection is going
to be about what they personally are going to do about the brokenness we see
all around us. Just before we head off to the science lab and do our Happy
Happy Polar (and nonpolar) Lab with shaving cream and bright food coloring that
has sparkles in it.
And last night the folks at AME were
reading Philippians together, which is all about having joy in the rough spots.
How to have joy in spite of difficulties, how to have joy in spite of people,
and how to have joy without things. And what it looks like to have the mind of
Christ, in humility, consider others more significant that yourself.
One of the ladies said that when she took her black first grade grandson to school that day, another first grader came up to him, white, and said, "My dad said that now Trump is president, you people aren't going get all of your special privileges anymore." First grade.
Count It All Joy is my latest password
for all of those random accounts that have to be updated so many times it makes
my head tired. Because real joy means that my mind, may it be His mind, is
fixed on what is true, what is just, what is honorable.
And not on the darkness.
O Lord Jesus Christ, who didst bid Thy
disciples to shine as lights in a dark world, in shame and contrition of heart
do I acknowledge before Thee the many faults and weaknesses of which we are
guilty who in this generation represent Thy Church before the world; and
especially do I acknowledge my own part in the same. Forgive me, I beseech
Thee, the feebleness of my witness, the smallness of my charity, and the
slackness of my zeal. Make me to be a more worthy follower of Him who cared for
the poor and the oppressed, and who could never see disease without seeking to
heal it or any kind of human need without turning aside to help.
Let Thy power, O Christ, be in us all,
to share the world’s suffering and redress its wrongs. Amen –John Baillie
