The Best Valentine’s Day Yet

How quickly time goes by when there’s so much to do.  I actually wanted to write this post a month ago, on February 14…

Let me begin by saying, I do not like Valentine’s Day.  I think America has chosen to replace sacrificial love with a bunch of philosophies that are just stupid, and I’d rather stay out of the whole scene.  However, little did I know… Valentine’s Day is a very big deal to first graders.  So, unlike every other day, when I practically beg them to bring homework and needed things for class, but am greeted with empty handed children, I came to breakfast to find our table covered with armfuls of festive candy, cards, boxes, cakes, and toys from every child.  I was also eagerly informed by my kids that parents would be coming later for the party they had all assumed I had planned…  Again, I don’t like Valentine’s Day, and it probably goes without saying, I don’t like parties.  Also, I don’t plan.  By 7:45 I was searching my desk for Advil as I realized this may be one of the most stressful days of my life.  As the hours passed and I juggled several cups of coffee, no break, and being asked 250348239 times when our party would be.  I felt like a Valentine’s Scrooge surrounded by a bunch of Tiny Tims…

I really fear being vulnerable about my struggle to be in ministry, because I don’t like seeming ungrateful or negative of the life I’ve been given.  There are stressful days that turn into stressful weeks, that turn to months of questioning why I came here.  This year my job doesn’t include many things I’m good at, it’s not what I came here to do.  And lots of things have fallen apart at the Mission this year, all unplanned.  The stress has made me lose my temper on my friends and family more times that I care to admit, and kids who once loved me being at their school have now found themselves writing five hundred sentences  that say, “I will not be a jerk to Miss Jen”.  This year has been nothing that we expected, and though we don’t know what the future holds, I often find myself looking back and asking myself- why in the world did God send us here this year??

Now I bring you to my recess duty on February 14.  One of our students who has been in and out of our school has found a special place in my heart over the past few years.  He’s a little awkward, in my opinion moderately OCD, and far from popular.  Scanning the playground I saw a few boys looking at Wacey, as he was curled up in the far corner.  I saw he was crying and started walking, giving the boys around him the teacher look (Which is, by the way, my favorite super power of being a teacher).  They shrugged and ran away, so I sat down next to Wacey and asked what happened. 

“Please forgive me, Father.  Amen.” 

I realized his tears were from pure sobbing, so I started to get worried.  “Wacey, happened?” 

He didn’t answer me, just kept his eyes closed, tears rolling down his cheeks.  Then the teacher voice came, “Wacey, stop, look at me!  What happened?!”

His answer was unexpected and changed everything about my day.

“I try to do good things, but I keep sinning.  And I don’t want to go to hell, I want to go to Heaven.  And I was telling God that I’m sorry and asking Him to forgive me.  And I’m praying for my friends, I want them to go to Heaven too!  I want my family to go to Heaven too.  But, Miss Jen, I don’t want to sin, and I want God to know I’m sorry.”

For a few seconds I was speechless.  Never in my recollection do I remember witnessing an adult weep, with total disregard who saw them, with giant tear filled regret over their sin.  I’ve heard lots of sermons about the mourning of sin, and I’m sure it does happen in the world, but I’ve never seen anyone truly let themselves be devastated over the thought that they need God to know they are sorry.  And I realized, Wacey didn’t even fully understand what had just happened to him.  Because kids don’t have fancy theological words to identify their soul’s churning.  (Though they have much to teach us.)  And without an attempt to draw special attention to his conversion, but with total disregard over his appearance, this small soul allowed the Holy Spirit to wreck him over his sin, right on the playground.  It couldn’t wait until later, simple as that.  And at that moment, the angels of heaven were rejoicing over him.

I started to tear up and told Wacey that God had heard his prayer, and He forgave him.  And that because of what he had just done, he would be in Heaven too.  I didn’t have much time to talk, because the bell rang and Wacey quickly shuffled to class.  But as I told his teacher in the hallway, we both smiled with tear filled eyes and praised God for a much needed reminder of His grace and why we are called to whatever God calls us to do.  The next day I asked Wacey for a minute to talk.  I asked if he’d ever prayed like that before, and he said no.  I told him to remember that day.  To tell everyone, and I mean everyone about it.  He just gave me his crooked grin and with a little “kay,” he ran off.

There will continue to be days I don’t want to be in ministry and many that I feel confused over why God would call me to it in the first place.  I’ve never been good at being content, but I think part of it is because I’m not home yet.  But when I do get home, Wacey will be there with me, with his skinny arms raised and cheesy grin wide.  Because Heaven just booked another resident for eternity 🙂 And that’s why we do what we do.