A Heavy List

Night terrors
Mother killed in a car wreck, but he survived
Given acid by a 40-year-old man
Mother died of cancer
Cut her arms
Father beat him
Hoarded food
Father smoked pot in front of him
Parents didn't want him, moved between extended family
Attempted suicide
Pretty sure parents were making meth
Mom was in jail
Father pinned his over 6-ft tall frame to the wall and screamed in his face
Moved about every six months to avoid bill collectors
Mother missed a meeting with the school because she was drunk
Dad in jail
Couldn't bring himself to read The Outsiders because it's too much like his own life
No one wanted to sit by her, not even the teachers
Dad took him to the bar, gave him a cup of quarters to play video games in the family room while he partied all weekend -- every weekend
Restraining order against her mother
Molested
Only got to eat at school
Raped
Mother told him he was stupid
Restraining order against his father
She hung on the guys because that's the only love she's ever known
Father committed suicide
Locked in his room




These thirteen to fifteen-year-olds have floated into my life around August and then left about June.  I rarely ever get to see them again.

I taught in special education for over ten years.  There were nights that the heartache I would carry home would be almost too much to bear.  His or her name tumbling over my lips in whispered prayers as I'd make dinner or fold the laundry.  And not just for the kids, but their families too. 

I knew that was the best thing I could do for them. Pray.  But also to be a gentle light in their world of darkness.  Talk about bowling and fishing and cosmetology with them.  Speak a few words of hope to his mother.  Tell her father about her strengths. 

I moved to teaching English this year and a few more were added to the list.  My heart is weary for them.  It's their face, especially their eyes that get me.  At times, I can hardly spit out the lesson when I see their eyes. Sometimes they're blinking back tears and I can barely hear the whispered, "...today's just not my day."  Another's eyes stare right through me, grey-faced, lost in painful thought and yet, protected by it's veil at the same time. 
 
There are a some of my dear colleagues that also pray for these young lives.  However, many others seem to able to just acknowledge the situation with a "That's too bad" and move on.  There are times when I wonder if I need to toughen up, not worry about it.  I mean, really, what difference can I make? 

And the more I think on it... I'm right.  I can't make a difference.  Not without the power of Christ that lives within me.  And it's not just me.  It's me joining forces with all the others that chose to stop instead of turning away.  We by the power of Christ make the difference.

Those looks from these kids strike a deep chord in my heart...not pity. 

Purpose.

Before You're Too Far Gone

Never Think - Rob Pattinson

I should never think
What's in your heart
What's in our home
So I won't

You'll learn to hate me
But still call me baby
Oh love
So call me by my name

And save your soul
Save your soul
Before you're too far gone
Before nothing can be done

..... ..... ..... ..... .....

Through this song, Christ saved my life from the lie of depression.  Through a movie soundtrack, Jesus found a way to crack into my heart when I'd decided I didn't really matter any more.  Through my self-induced darkness, He found a way to send a thin strand of light. "Save your soul, before you're too far gone, before nothing can be done." 

Six years ago, my father took his own life.  Little did he know he would be taking the lives of his family with him.  We were swallowed by a great abyss of sadness and silence after he left.  I felt as if I'd been dragged to the bottom of the ocean and left, alone, in a deep black cave with no light and only a pocket of air.  

A year went by.  I breathed in and out.  I swallowed some food.  I survived.  

I had been on maternity leave when it happened.  A year later I was headed back to work.  In a way, it was good for me to rejoin "normal" life.  But my soul had been scraped from it's shell.  I was robotic.  I literally had to remind myself to smile at Dakota when I came home.  There were almost no voluntary positive responses left in me.  

Then work started to pile up.  It was too much to bear.  So I just sat there one night, with my cheek flat on my desk, staring at the mound of work to complete.  I didn't even feel the need to move.  Ever.  I know I sat there for hours, half expecting to just be absorbed into the desk.   I never considered taking my own life, I just decided I'd be done functioning. Completely.

But there was music playing.

I hadn't even noticed it until I heard the words of the last few lines.  I reached up and played the song again.  I started to mouth the words.  Waking my numb limbs, I stretched out to the zing of a hundred ants stinging my legs as they started to wake up.  I played it again.  I was singing along, my head on my hand.  How long had it been since I sang? Again and again I played this song.  Down in that deep cave, under miles of black waters, Jesus came looking for me.  Once I accepted what those words were meant for, I felt my entire body flush with remorse.  A timid, weak whispered prayer was sent; my savior sitting right next to me.

I wasn't on the surface yet, but I was ready to leave that cave with Him and never come back.