When I can do nothing

About 10 days ago, a student that I am incredibly fond of lost his mom.  She had been fighting a  battle with cancer for a long time, and for the whole time I knew her it seemed like she just might win.  She was a vibrant person, always demonstrating how much she loved her kids and how far she would go to see them succeed.  To be honest, as a teacher that sometimes was intimidating - when I first met her, I wasn't even teaching her son yet and I immediately felt I needed to be on my toes.  But she also came across as very supportive of what we are doing at GSIS, and somehow that brief meeting has stuck with me.

The next time I interacted with her was several months later when her son came with me, 3 other teachers, and about 15 other students on a missions trip to Myanmar.  By that time I had taught him for about a month, and in that time had learned that he will always be the very first to turn in assignments, but never read the directions all the way through.  He also is incredibly athletic, intelligent, handsome, and charismatic in a very subtle way - his actions or inactions influence others but you don't notice it immediately.  I, being not great at classroom management, and still being relatively new to the PE curriculum at GSIS, had a hard time getting him to participate in class.   He also didn't participate well in our group preparations for Myanmar.

Once we were there, I thought that getting this large group of 10th grade guys to join in wholeheartedly was going to be a challenge.  We had English lessons to prepare, rooms to clean, dishes to wash, and kids to play with.  It was a daily, hourly interaction with these beautiful orphan kids who just wanted to be friends and have the Korean teenagers play with them.  There were times when we were tired and times when the days grew long, and still we would be playing games, sitting with them, talking, learning Burmese.  I say "we" but mostly it was our girls - a God-sent group really.  But when I looked with open eyes I saw the guys joining in - playing a couple's version of duck duck goose, holding the jump rope, sitting with kids on the steps taking pictures, playing soccer with the older guys in the yard....and it was beautiful.  Those moments when kids surprise you are the best.  Those moments humble me.  I love them for what they show me about what God does in our lives when we're not looking.

I'm not saying that it was perfect.  But really, who ever expected perfection from 15-year old kids and got it?  The whole time I was preparing for this trip I felt that God was saying that the reason I was going was not because of the kids in Myanmar, but because of the kids we were taking with us - that was the primary ministry for me.  I had chances on that trip to get very close to some of the seniors that just graduated yesterday - that I worked with all year in Treehouse club and soccer - who would hang out playing worship songs or spoons or talking about faith - it was an incredibly special time that I am forever thankful for.  But one of my favorite moments on the trip was day 3 or 4, when the student I've been talking about was sitting on the steps with a boy of about 9 or 10.  He was taking pictures of them together, and told the kid that he wouldn't forget him now that he had his picture.  I wasn't really meant to overhear - I think he was embarrased that I did - but in that moment I just felt that there was something in this "too cool" kid that I wanted to reach out to. Later we were washing hundreds of dishes for a wedding at the orphanage, and that moment sticks out to me to - because even though he complains when he's uncomfortable, he didn't quit.

On our last day at the orphanage, I sent an email with some pictures of the group to all the parents of the kids we had with us.  His mom emailed back a very nice thank you - she was so excited to see pictures of her son with his arms around a Burmese child, and of him washing dishes.  As someone who wants to be a mom, reading her words of pride and love for her son and the way she was so joyful to see him loving, serving, and growing - it was special.

This year I have gotten to know both of them better - through having him in class again and seeing her at school events.  She was so supportive and so present - watching soccer games, celebrating our return from the Indonesia missions trip, coming to parent teacher conferences to find out exactly what needed to be fixed and make sure he was being treated fairly - that I never realized something was wrong.   I just didn't know that she was getting worse, and I'm so incredibly sad that I didn't.  It wouldn't have meant anything different, except maybe I would have stayed and talked at that last soccer game instead of moving on.  Maybe I would have gone deeper into why I was proud of her son's actions and attitude in Indonesia this year instead of just saying it quickly and not planned out.  Maybe.......maybe.

But now she's gone.  I have realized again, just how poor I am at entering into another's grief.  My mom does this over, and over, and over again, week after week as she ministers at GriefShare.  She's done it for years now, and has heard stories I don't think I could even listen to sometimes.  I admire her and I love her for what she can give, how she can bless people by standing with them in their sorrow.  But I can't  - not in the same way.  While his mom was still alive, fighting in a hospital and being told that there was nothing they could do anymore - I emailed him a couple of times to say I was praying.  And I was - so many nights I was crying myself to sleep praying for her and for this student - for her daughter that I barely knew and her husband.  I gathered with another teacher before school and we both wept, begging God to heal her and to save the heart of our student.   Since they have lost her, I haven't seemed to be able to find the words.

 I don't know why this has impacted me so much.  I think partially because in the past year and a half this teenager has become really special to me.  He's not the easiest kid to work with, and he's not very open with others - not very open with me.  But he stands out to me - maybe its because of the potential I see in him or maybe its just because I have spent a lot of time with him.  Maybe its because he's sometimes a little kid with an adorable smile and sometimes an adult with logic I can't argue with.  Maybe its because there's a strength and depth to him I wish he would let people see.  Maybe its just because God laid him on my heart.  In Indonesia, even though I was often hard on him, I saw something that seemed like a breakthrough - one honest conversation, one Mafia game where he convinced me to trust him, one statement about how it doesn't take wealth to be happy.  One moment when he wanted to give his soccer shoes to a boy in Indonesia without any.  All the smiles when the kids he was working with succeeded.   I got to tell his mom some of that, but not in that many words - I wish I had.

But now she's gone.  And my heart breaks for them all.  He's been away from school for a month, just waiting, not knowing when but knowing she was not getting better.  I can't even say with certainty that he'll be back next year although I obviously hope that he is.  My deepest fear is that this sorrow, this pain and grief, will tear him away from whatever relationship he has with the Lord.  He's not open enough for me to know what his relationship with God is - I've never asked him and he's never told me.  It is a helpless feeling because I can't impact this - unlike when I enter his grades and I have complete say.  I can't change anything about how he is going to go through this healing journey.  And then I come up against this wave of fear and relief - the only One who can is the same One that he needs - the only One who can reach him truly is the same One who wants to heal and hold him.  Its fear because I can do nothing to help this kid I love.  Its relief because the only One who can is the only One who loves him more than his mom did.  Her love was powerful and strong, deep and wide, fierce and protective, gentle and kind - and it is nothing compared to how much God loves him.

Someday soon I will find the words.  In the last 10 days two more of my friends have also lost someone - and I don't know how to enter in to their grief either - how to comfort or encourage.  Maybe I should know, but I don't.  Lord help me give what has been given to me so often - a place to share whatever needs sharing and a mouth that speaks only what You want heard.

She's gone now.  But he is not.  Lord Jesus, when I can do nothing You can do everything.  I know You want him to turn to You for strength, healing, love, and peace.  I know You can reach to him through the sorrow.  Please, Lord of Lords, don't let him go.  Don't let any of them go.