Jesus loves the little children...

The hoarseness of my voice has been a constant reminder for the last week and a half that I have very little patience with children. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. They bring joy and laughter to almost any situation. They sing and dance and say the darndest things. But when it comes to teaching them a skill (such as sliding or galloping) in PE class, they become wild little jumping beans who can't stay quiet. In the most strange way they become like magnets with each other, always hugging or pushing or just touching their classmates. At some points, I even think their ears have fallen off because not one, not a single one, has done what I have asked. More times than I can count I have stopped, closed my eyes, and called upon the name of Jesus. I say over and over, "Jesus, please give me patience," and, "Pleaseeeee help me to love these little hellions." 

I wish fairy dust would fall from the sky and cover me in patience when I pray that. I almost expect to have this sudden love for each of the children. But of course, none of that happens. I am still in a gym full of elementary students running and yelling and shoving. Probably because God doesn't want me to just ask for patience in my moments of annoyance. He wants to develop it in me so it lasts. He wants me to want more patience not so my job is easier but because He is patient with me. 

This, of course, didn't hit me until late last week. I was driving to school and in frustration kinda talking to God about how easily I get annoyed with the students. I blame some of it on not being a mom. I just don't have that mercy and grace that comes with being a mom. It annoys me when they cry and when they just stand there and don't want to participate. Then the Holy Spirit stepped in and reminded me of something: 

I was trying to get something that I already have access to. 

He loves children. He has infinite patience with youngsters. So the more I empty me of myself and let the Holy Spirit work through me the more patient I will be. 

My voice is still scratchy. And I still teach rowdy students. But the Holy Spirit helps me to laugh more. He gives me discernment as to when to stand there and wait for the students to get quiet instead of yelling and yelling until they listen. He's opened my eyes and now it's so easy for me to understand why all these children are so precious in His sight.

name tags

Wednesday nights I can be found at Blue Ridge Community Church talking about one of my least favorite things. Actually, I can easily say I hate it: divorce. I hate it because God hates it. I hate it because of the negative ways it has affected my life and the lives of people around me. "So why do you talk about it every Wednesday?" you may ask. Because talking about divorce can bring healing. Healing not just for myself but for middle schoolers and high schoolers. We talk about things like sadness & anger & loneliness & why it is not our faults. To open and address our wounds will more readily turn them into scars. And scars tell stories.

On these particular nights I have taken the role of name tag maker. When the kids come in I take a marker and jot their names on sticky labels. About halfway through the night we were all sitting in a big circle talking and something caught my eye. My handwriting was on a girl who is homeschooled who doesn't like religion. I turned to the right and saw my handwriting on a 16 yr. old boy who doesn't want to live. I looked on around the circle and saw my writing on numerous teenagers who I've only been around 3 or 4 times. And I realized that when they left, even though they took their name tags off, my mark would still be on them. And I couldn't help but ask myself what kind of mark I was leaving. 

I pray that I leave them with Jesus. That through my laughter and jokes they can see His joy. Through my stories and heartaches they can see His redemption & grace. I hope that through my awkward questions and comments they can feel His love and His relentless pursuit of them. Maybe just maybe when they leave that room on Wednesdays night they leave me and take Jesus. Because His name tag is the only one worth wearing anyways.