Dust

Things seem to be falling apart really well lately, and I've been thinking about how this feels and why it is so.  Aside from world issues, like the sickening chaos in Connecticut, there have already been things in my own little corner of this world that feel heavy and tired and worn.  I took a break this weekend, came out of the bustlings of my life, and thought about these things.




It will be said briefly here, but I was completely horrified by the shootings in Connecticut.  Humanity groans at this news...I know I am not alone in this.  I hated my call to teach this weekend because it made me once again imagine horrible things that are very, very real.  And it brings to the light the things that are already haunting...who locks the door, who grabs ANYONE in the hallway, who calms the kids and waits for armed police.   

It also once again affirmed the serious responsibility and burden I already feel teaching other peoples' children.  Sometimes when 14 year olds are REALLY getting to me, I imagine their parents sitting at work, wondering about them, maybe praying for them throughout the day, hoping someone is kind to them.  This helps me remember that everyone is fighting hard battles.



So I prayed a lot about being a teacher.  And eventually sighed with relief when I remembered that the Spirit of God is with me in my classroom.  That I am comforted by the Irish proverb that says 'God's help is nearer than the door.'  That I already think of this subconsciously every day when things are going well or instead just horribly. 

Oh, that's right.  I definitely felt both of those things in class just last week.

And I eventually realized that the Spirit of God was in the elementary school in Connecticut too, giving teachers what they needed in the realest moments of their lives.  In the complete sickness of Friday, I believe there were moments when God was brilliantly showing His face to them.  And giving courage to their pounding hearts.  It shows up in the decisions they made that saved people.  The thought rebels against other very human reactions I have, but I thought about it like this for a while, and it helped me remember how good God really is when I understand nothing. 

And when I'm still reeling from it.

Really surprisingly, Mr. Rogers helped too.  I read something yesterday from him that seeped into my bones.  Advice from his mother.  He said that whenever he heard about terrible things in the world, his mother would tell him to look for the helpers.  There are always helpers caring about this world.   It's the simplest, but it helped something land.

In my own current dark night of the soul, I've been thinking about how shockingly dear it is to me to know that 'Emmanuel' means 'God with us'.  I have also been thinking a lot about the tenderness of Jesus.  That sometimes Jesus is so interesting and compelling and real to me that this is what undoes me before anything else in a wave-tossed world. 

The most powerful story right now that I know about Jesus is the one where a woman in the dust of her life reaches out to touch his robe as he walks through her town.  She's been in despair for years and this feeling seems to have gone nowhere.  But she recognizes something in Jesus when he walks by, and he heals her flagging spirit.  Gosh, this is me.  I am in the dust.  But I know God will lift up my head.  I am reaching out to Jesus in my deep down frailty, happier than ever to know that this very small thing is what matters a great deal.