Christopher

I sat back and watched as my kids began to clean up after our hour of workshop. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christopher reaching to put a game away on the shelf where it belonged. A couple feet away from him, two boys had stopped cleaning up their stations to watch also. As they saw Christopher struggle to reach the top shelf, they rushed over and casually helped him tap the box in.

I met Christopher 2 days before the first day of school at our family brunch. The second I reached out to shake his hand, anxiety filled me. Christopher extended his right arm to greet me but, unlike the other students, half of his limb was missing. Anxious images filled my mind. How will the other students respond to him? I could hear their hurtful words already. For our first day activity, I was going to have the kids each trace their hands and write down ways to use their hands helpfully this year. What would Christopher trace? How would he feel? What will the other kids say?

Seven months later, I watched as these two boys, not always the most gentle of my bunch, kept such a careful eye on their friend. I am filled with joy as I see God's hand molding my students' hearts and I pray for more. I want to see violence flee this neighborhood as a new generation of students rise up to model living lives of love and care for one another.