Two weeks ago the apartment of one of my students burned down. The family lost everything they owned and are currently looking for housing in the neighborhood. The little girl in my room inhaled enough smoke that she had to be resuscitated and taken to the emergency room. Thankfully, she is fine and the scabs from the burns on her face are almost gone.
Books could be written about this girl, she is so resilient. Her positive attitude is a lesson to all of us in giving thanks for what we do have instead of being caught up in what we don't have. Looking out over my classroom, it's easy to forget all that each one of the students have gone through, of the ways that they navigate through life, and in the case of this girl, do so with grace.
The response from the students in my classroom has been overwhelming. Students have brought in clothing to help, and they all wanted to make cards to tell her how much they loved her and how happy they are that she is alright. People outside the class have also reached out to donate items and money to get the family back on their feet.
Everywhere we go it seems as though there are opportunities for us to give our money and resources to help someone somewhere. Honestly, it's a little bit numbing when everyone from the cashier at the grocery store to the person ringing a bell on the street has a cause to donate to. Call me hardened, but living and working in an urban environment makes very little shocking and sometimes it's hard to maintain compassion for the suffering.
My students do not share my fatigue and apathy. In the wake of the Haiti earthquake, one of my students brought in an empty pasta jar full of coins that he and his father had been saving for a year to donate to the change drive at our school. It made the two dollar donation I gave at Whole Foods seem a little pathetic. And the part that made it even more amazing is that he was excited, even joyful, to be part of making a difference in the aftermath of the crisis.
Recently the children in our church spoke during announcements to tell us that they were having a bake sale to raise funds for their Heifer Project donations. Together they had been pooling allowances and other minimal income to purchase a flock of ducks, a water buffalo, and some goats. After the service I went to lunch with two of my best friends. In between bites of hummus, my friend said, "God, I teared up today at church watching those kids. I remember what it felt like when I actually thought I could change the world, when I really believed that I could make a difference."
What happens to that idealism? When did I stop believing that the coins in my pasta jar would make a difference to someone thousands of miles away? When did folded up pieces of notebook paper-frills still attached-stop being sufficient as gifts of love and appreciation? How in the world can I possibly get so lost inside myself that I forget to remember that those small details are what make each day worth sticking around for?
I'm still kind of moping around and angry at the world because of the fire that burned down my student's house. The funny thing is is that she isn't. She comes to school eager to learn, like always. You catch her helping her friends during math and complimenting other students during share time. It's humbling to learn such simple things like gratitude from my students, but I can say with confidence that I'm glad that she is our future.
