The Necklace

This week was awesome.

I don’t know if it was the long break last week, the great weather, or the fact that half of my classes have been taking a test and then watching Mickey Mouse cartoons.

Or maybe it’s that I only have five more school weeks left with my babies, and that makes me all the more anxious to give them quality attention.

But something happened this week that made me sad.

As I was giving tests, I noticed that one of my students, Ross, was wearing a Buddha necklace. 

Yes, I know it was just a necklace and that it was probably just something his parents had him wear for good luck. But it was a reminder to me—a reminder of where I am, what my students are surrounded by, and the sad fact that there are many of them I will probably never ever see again.

Ross is a chipper ray of sunshine and I can’t even picture his face in my mind without a smile on it. The kid literally smiles ALL the time.

Where is his China smile going to go someday? Maybe he’ll grow up, live a successful life, have a wife and child, and then…well, and then what?

I can’t tie strings around him and pull him with me when I finally go HOME.

I can’t save him, or any of my precious students.

This used to just give me a sad sigh, but now that I really, truly love my students, I found myself having to swallow a lump in my throat as I thought about it in class.

I trust that I will see some of my students again one day--at Home--but it will most likely only be a few and I don’t know which ones.

What will happen to silly Carson, crazy Monica, helpful Lisa, funny Jonah, sweet Amy, loving Angel, smart Micah, ridiculous Tate, and darling Fabio?

I can pour love on them in buckets, I can give them attention and stickers, I can help them with their English, I can teach them about Christmas and Easter, but I can’t give them the thing I long most for them to have.

It’s always pricked my heart when I people I love don’t know the Father, but I’ve never known hundreds of them all at once.

I’m sure it’s not the last time I’ll feel pain over the possible futures of people I love. Sometimes it feels like the Father’s pulling a How the Grinch Stole Christmas on me.

And her heart grew three sizes that day.

(or three hundred)

And this is Ross.

This is literally the least I've ever seen him smiling. 

The kid's adorable.