Breaking the mold
To my kids,
Tonight I will attend your graduation. Graduation. You're done. A few months ago we didn't know if some of you would make it. A few months ago we were fighting--all of us--fighting for confidence and grace and stamina and a way to just help get through, and somewhere in there you stole something from me. You stole my heart. You've stolen the deepest part of my being. I'm not sure how I let it go. I'm not sure why I let it go, because now it hurts an awful lot. I'm 23. I'm only 23 and I definitely have no kids, nor do I want them biologically, and yet somehow, I have them. Somehow you have managed to weave your very being--for better or for worse--into my every waking thought and feeling. You drive my actions; no matter where I am, I am laughing or crying for or because of you. During the times when I feel weak, it is you who keep me going, and you don't even know it, because I know you're watching. You drive my ups and my downs, when you smile, my days go better, but when you're upset or being a jerk (yes, being a jerk), I just want to hug you. The worst part has been not being able to, but my heart has. I never imagined teaching would like this. I never imagined it would be so wonderful and so heartbreaking at once. I give my heart to 50 kids and then have to tell them good-bye. Wow.
I will miss you. Every day I sit at my desk and watch the door. Every day I wait for you to come bounding through, coming through the door late, dancing across the floor, or grinning and interrupting class that has already started because your comment is far more important than the current English lesson. I miss that. I miss asking you to be quiet. I miss laughing at you because the way you're disrupting class is so stinkin' funny that I can't help but roll with laughter. I miss watching your eyes light up when you finally comprehend something, and I miss watching your desire to learn....or socialize. Every day I wait, and every once in a while, one of you comes. Every day this week, even though you didn't have to, some of you came. You came just to talk and to laugh and to bond...but now it's over. Now I have to go to your commencement tonight, and I can't wait, because I am so proud of you, but do you know how it feels to fall in love so desperately only to have to tell your children good-bye? I love you. I can't tell you that at school, but I want you to know. I love you, and I will think of you and miss you, and most importantly, I will be praying for you. Thank you for sharing your life with me. Thank you for trusting me. God has shown me His abundant mercy, love, and purpose through you.
Do you think something is wrong with me? I've only known you 6 months. I wonder sometimes. Is it normal to be this attached? But then sometimes I just don't care, because you have shown me a love I have never known before this, and God has used you to mold me and shape me; I can only hope you have felt Christ daily in the classroom. That has been my one prayer every day, and sometimes I wonder if I have failed miserably, but I have no doubt that God has blessed my life because of you. I would and will do it all again...every year. But you are special; you are my first kids.
My heart is breaking; it really is. My eyes probably won't be able to push back the tears tonight, and you will probably just think I'm weird, but if I could just look at you in my tears when you give me the wierd look, I would say this," Yea, I'm a sap. Yes, I'm weird; you know this by now. We've had a lot of laughs....but you need to know just how proud I am of you, and just how much I love you." Just know how much I love you...
...and if you don't think it's too strange, reserve me a game of kickball in the rain in a good mud pit this summer.
Go with God, my friends,
M
Tonight I will attend your graduation. Graduation. You're done. A few months ago we didn't know if some of you would make it. A few months ago we were fighting--all of us--fighting for confidence and grace and stamina and a way to just help get through, and somewhere in there you stole something from me. You stole my heart. You've stolen the deepest part of my being. I'm not sure how I let it go. I'm not sure why I let it go, because now it hurts an awful lot. I'm 23. I'm only 23 and I definitely have no kids, nor do I want them biologically, and yet somehow, I have them. Somehow you have managed to weave your very being--for better or for worse--into my every waking thought and feeling. You drive my actions; no matter where I am, I am laughing or crying for or because of you. During the times when I feel weak, it is you who keep me going, and you don't even know it, because I know you're watching. You drive my ups and my downs, when you smile, my days go better, but when you're upset or being a jerk (yes, being a jerk), I just want to hug you. The worst part has been not being able to, but my heart has. I never imagined teaching would like this. I never imagined it would be so wonderful and so heartbreaking at once. I give my heart to 50 kids and then have to tell them good-bye. Wow.
I will miss you. Every day I sit at my desk and watch the door. Every day I wait for you to come bounding through, coming through the door late, dancing across the floor, or grinning and interrupting class that has already started because your comment is far more important than the current English lesson. I miss that. I miss asking you to be quiet. I miss laughing at you because the way you're disrupting class is so stinkin' funny that I can't help but roll with laughter. I miss watching your eyes light up when you finally comprehend something, and I miss watching your desire to learn....or socialize. Every day I wait, and every once in a while, one of you comes. Every day this week, even though you didn't have to, some of you came. You came just to talk and to laugh and to bond...but now it's over. Now I have to go to your commencement tonight, and I can't wait, because I am so proud of you, but do you know how it feels to fall in love so desperately only to have to tell your children good-bye? I love you. I can't tell you that at school, but I want you to know. I love you, and I will think of you and miss you, and most importantly, I will be praying for you. Thank you for sharing your life with me. Thank you for trusting me. God has shown me His abundant mercy, love, and purpose through you.
Do you think something is wrong with me? I've only known you 6 months. I wonder sometimes. Is it normal to be this attached? But then sometimes I just don't care, because you have shown me a love I have never known before this, and God has used you to mold me and shape me; I can only hope you have felt Christ daily in the classroom. That has been my one prayer every day, and sometimes I wonder if I have failed miserably, but I have no doubt that God has blessed my life because of you. I would and will do it all again...every year. But you are special; you are my first kids.
My heart is breaking; it really is. My eyes probably won't be able to push back the tears tonight, and you will probably just think I'm weird, but if I could just look at you in my tears when you give me the wierd look, I would say this," Yea, I'm a sap. Yes, I'm weird; you know this by now. We've had a lot of laughs....but you need to know just how proud I am of you, and just how much I love you." Just know how much I love you...
...and if you don't think it's too strange, reserve me a game of kickball in the rain in a good mud pit this summer.
Go with God, my friends,
M
posted by M at 9.6.05
2 Comments:
M,
What an awesome testimony of your love for your 'kids'. I can't even imagine how attached you've become. I become attached to my campers this weekend after only 4 short days with them. I can not imagine 6 months. Keep pressing!
Lots of love
B
I too have tears.
Post a Comment
<< Home