Love and Sacrifice

“God… I’m really tired this morning. I just don’t feel like I have the energy to get through another day with my students.”

No, you don’t. That’s why I’m here, remember?

Daily strength. Hourly strength. Minute by minute strength. That’s what He provides. No, I don’t feel strong enough to keep going for another 5 ½ months. But I don’t need to, because God has shown His provision through each moment of each day as needed. It humbles me to realize how rarely I rely on Him when I need Him. How often I let my frustration take control of me, or forget to ask for guidance when I’m not sure what to say or do. But as I let him take control, I find myself learning how big His strength is, and learning new lessons.
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Of the four love languages, one of my greatest is physical touch. It’s been a joy to me as my students have grown closer to me through the months, and many freely share their hugs, hold my hands as we walk, and compete to be the one to sit on my lap in chapel. One of my students is especially needy when it comes this area, and usually I am happy to return her hugs, wrap my arm around her as well, and let her clamor into my lap. This week however, everyone seemed determined to push me off the edge of my patience. It seemed every moment I turned I was met with someone needing help, asking a question, or complaining. Again. This was not so unusual, but for some reason this week it was frequently accompanied by someone’s small hands. Then came Thursday, the last day before the Christmas program.

“Teacher!” My arm is vigorously shaken. “Teacher, when are we going over to the church?”

I take a deep breath. “Remember that I’ve asked you lots of times not to grab and shake my arm because I don’t like it?

“Oh yeah. Sorry. So when are we going to the church?”
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“Teeeeeeeeacher, my stomach hurts!” A small body plasters itself against me, hanging from me and almost knocking me over.

“I’m sorry it hurts. Have you been drinking water?”

“Yes, teacher, I’ve drunk lots of water like you always tell me to, but it still huuuurts.”

“Ok, you can call your mom if it’s really bad, or you can just sit there at your desk and rest.”

2 minutes later.

“Teeeeacher, my stomach is hurting!” The small body once again grabs my arms and hangs from them.

“Did you call your mom?” “Yes, but she doesn’t have a car to come get me. But teacher, it hurts!”

And so it went every five minutes for the rest of the day until lunch which apparently cured my student’s malady. This was accompanied by students randomly coming and grabbing me in sudden balance-unsettling hugs on their way to the bathroom, or to sharpen their pencils, and more arm grabbing and shaking when someone needed help or a question answered.

Then it was time to go to the church for Christmas program practice. Then came my little clinger, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Teacher, I’m going to walk over with you.” We walked over to the church, bodies pressed close together. We made our way down the aisle, and over to our designated pew, where she immediately transferred from my side to lap, and proceeded to sit there for the next two hours as the room became warmer and warmer. “Teacher, I’m hot.” “Well, you know,” I replied in a hopeful tone, “if you sat on the pew right next to me you wouldn’t be so hot, because our bodies make extra heat when you’re on my lap.” She vigorously shook her head no, and snuggled even closer against me. And so we stayed that way the end of the practice, with a bit of relief when it was the elementary students turn to present up front.

It was hot. It was long. And I didn’t want her sitting on my lap making me hotter, slowly limiting the circulation to my legs. Especially after being shaken and hung on all morning, and really all week long.

I was tired of being touched.

But it was what she needed, and wasn’t I there to meet my students needs? Wasn’t I there to share love in the ways that my students needed it? My student missionary service wasn’t just about sacrificing things that I miss at home, about adjusting to a different life, about teaching my students about math, English, or even about God. It was also about this. Holding a child on my lap when what they needed most was to feel the touch of someone who cared about them.

And it was this that God brought to mind as we finished the program and I surrendered my will again as we walked out of the church, bodies so close we looked almost like one being.