The Child can teach us how to greive
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| Harlem protest |
A straight up confession
I'm not sure how many people feel this, but in some ways, it seems like I am more busy now than I was before COVID-19. I'm not sure if the work I am doing is more, or that it requires more energy from me. Perhaps it's both. But what I am sure of is that some of my work has been used as a tool to distract me from the increasingly devastating reality that so many people around me are walking in. I took a bit of a hiatus from writing posts and dictating podcasts last week, because I was so overcome with sadness, anger, and fatigue. It may seem like an excuse, but I just wasn't able to distract myself with creative work. Consider that this is an unprecedented time for all of us. Consider that so many people have lost their jobs and are unsure of how they will care for their loved ones. Consider that so many people have lost their loved ones (or know of those who have suffered loss) due to the pandemic. And then there are the daily struggles and fears of being black in America. My emotions have been firing on all cylinders and the rest of me hasn't had time to catch up. In these moments I look to the Lord and He has given us a beautiful picture of lament, both in His Word and in the child.Beautiful Crying Child
When children are experiencing a strong emotion, they express it...quite fully. I've had the privilege of walking with children through screaming tantrums and hot tears, even carrying them away so that they can express themselves more fully rather than in the center of the classroom work period. There was one occasion during extended day, where a 3 year old was upset because of an injustice in her mind: there was a block near her that, though she was not using, she did not want others to use. When another child decided to take it, she went to a dark place. Her entire face broke open into a spring of tears and mucus. Her mouth was filled with a shock-inducing bellow. I carried her to the bathroom (where she goes to calm herself), where the porcelain tile from the walls amplified the sound of her cries. I sat silently with her as she cried. Then I noticed out loud, "Oh, there is a puddle on the floor near you. My goodness! I believe it is from your tears". She noticed the puddle. "How are you feeling? Are you sad, or are you mad?"
The spring slowed; she began to stop crying. "Mad." she said. And so we began to talk about stipulations on block monopolies as she wiped up the literal puddle of tears...and licked the remaining tears from her face. I immediately thought it was gross, but realized later that I did the exact same thing as a child. Tears are salty. Quite a discovery.
She expressed her emotion fully and it was not convenient. But her smile a few moments later when she rejoined the activities of the other children lit up the whole room. And she was even more calm than before the escalation occurred. It was an honor to be with her through the whole episode. Though I wouldn't want to repeat it.
It is okay to lament. We have lost much (some more than others). We may lose more. But we ought to allow one another the space to feel. This doesn't mean withdrawing from them, though some will need more space than others. But when the tears are gone, we can speak life into one another's emotional state. It's quite important that we do, as our emotions often hold up realities that are distorted. And in the distance there is a hope that keeps us: the tears will end.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:14
Tomorrow I will get on Zoom with my students for our last day of class. Then, I will travel to my school (masked) to clean out my classroom. Many of my students will not return next year, either because of relocation, or aging out of the program. It is likely that I will not see them again. I am very sad.
And that's quite alright. Because it won't last forever.
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