Current volunteer in Philadelphia with Mercy Volunteer Corps
[Jesus] said to [the
disciples], “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of
God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone
who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Then
he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and
blessed them.
(Mark 10:14-16)
I’m sure
many of you have heard of this passage before, and how Jesus especially loves
children. Since August 2014, I have been surrounded by little humans age 2 to 5
(“5 Things 5 Year-Olds Teach You” rolled better than “5 things 2 to 5 Year-Olds
Teach You”). I serve as an assistant teacher for a preschool classroom at Mercy
Neighborhood Ministries in Philadelphia, and I wonder if Jesus knows…
I wonder if
Jesus knows the horror my troublemaker places in my heart as I yell at him from
across the classroom to stop swinging between the chairs, only to watch him in
slow motion – first ignoring me with a wide grin as he looks straight in my
eyes, then slipping and falling face first onto the tile floor. A second of
cold silence hangs in the air for him to fill up his little lungs, then the
loudest wail ever snaps everything back to life as he looks up at me with tears
and bloody lips.
Or how they
test my patience every day with their sassy “No!”s, and doing the exact
opposite of what I ask them to do.
Or what
little germ sacs they are, touching everything
and anything, and putting their
bacteria culture hands straight on me (I must say, my hand-washing habits have
improved significantly since I started working with them).
So exactly
why does Jesus love these disastrous little humans so much?
Well, they
are so irresistibly cute that it’s easy to forget about their mischief. On a
more serious note, they somehow shine God out of their little bodies and bring
His desires alive to the present, to the now in my life. So here are five
things I learned through my kids.
*Names of
the students have been replaced with a pseudonym for confidentiality.
1. Eyes
for the “small things”
“Miss
Graaaaace, I have a booboo on my finger.”
“Oh no, let
me see. Where is it?”
“Right
here.”
“Where??”
“Right
hereeee.”
And there
it is, an itsy bitsy red dot you could barely see with naked eyes.
“Can I have
a band-aid please?”
“Oh, I
don’t think you need a band-aid for that.”
“BUT IT HUUURTSSSS.
PLEASEEEEEEEE.”
I’ll be
honest. When this happens – several times a day – I get a bit annoyed, and I give
them a band-aid more for my sake than theirs.
But their
little eyes that notice their little booboo’s are also the first to notice
little cuts or scratches on me that I didn’t even know about. They stare at my
tiny wound for a good while, and ask in a soft voice filled with concern, “Are
you okay, Miss Grace? Does that hurt a lot?” In that moment, I could not feel
any more cared for. And I think God intended for everyone to feel that way.
2. Life is
full of little cheering things!
One day, we
passed out tiles of various colors and shapes to each student for a lesson on
patterns and shapes. As I was walking past Cole, I casually asked him what
color was his tile. It took him a second to realize that it was “ORANGEEEE!! MY
FAVORITE COLOR!!!”. He was so joyous that he literally couldn’t contain it in
himself and jumped out of his chair.
Replace
this orange tile with just about anything at any given moment. I recently saw
an article that said preschoolers laugh about 300 to 400 times a day, while
adults only laugh an average of 17.5 times.
Catherine
McAuley, the founder of Sisters of Mercy, wrote in one of her many letters, “I
would like to tell you all the little cheering things that God permits to fall
in our way”.
It is often
easy to fall into a trap of finding daily routine repetitive and fatiguing. To
combat this, I began to look out for little cheering things throughout my day
to find more joy and gratitude. My goal is to get as good as my kids.
3.
Transformation is possible
“Repeat
after me, okay? Es, aitch,” I say as I point at the letters on his paper with
the tip of a pencil.
“Es,
aitch.”
“Ey, double
yoo, en.”
“Ey, double
yoo, en.”
“Good. Now
can you spell your name by yourself?” I anxiously ask Shawn.
“Deeeee…”
“No, no,
no, which letter does your name start with?”
“I don’t
know,” answers squirmy Shawn with a half-embarrassed, half-playful smile.
It is
beyond my understanding. We just went over how to spell his name about thirty
times, if not more. And every single time, he fails to remember these five
letters. What is more frustrating is that we have been doing this every day for
several weeks now. With my hopes crushed and patience stretched thin, I wonder
if I can ever help Shawn learn how to spell his name.
Then one
day, I hear Shawn spelling his name all by himself. Surprised, I walk over to
his table and I ask him to repeat it. With his eyes full of smile, he proudly recites
his name out loud. In the next few weeks, he starts writing his name with backward
S’s and a couple of letters missing, and in another few weeks, he can write his
whole name by himself.
Shawn is
not the only one who has shown me that transformation is possible. LayLay, who
has given me the opportunity to change diapers for the first time ever in my
life, is now completely potty-trained and Pampers free. My little two-year olds
who started off the school year unable to speak anything are now calling me
“Mitt Gwayth” and defiantly yelling “NO!” when I ask them to do something that
doesn’t suit them. Sometimes I miss the good old days when they just sat
quietly, but whenever I watch them talk to each other, I am in awe.
My kids assure
me that slowly, but surely, transformation takes place. I have no doubt that
every one of my students has the potential to transform and do what they dream
of, and become whoever they want to be. It is so easy to believe that.
So why is
it so hard for so many of us to believe in ourselves and in each other? Because
I’m sure God feels the same way about us as I do about my kids.
4. How well
God knows us
I
have come to know my students by more than just their name. I know their
parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunty, uncle, and godparents. I know what
backpack, folder, jacket, shoes, sweater, hat, gloves, and scarf each of them
have. I decipher their little whispering voices and call them out by name with
my back turned toward them. I can tell which crooked handwriting belongs to
which kid. Each child gets the same blanket to sleep with every day. I know who
has asthma, who is lactose-intolerant, and who simply doesn’t like to drink
milk. The list goes on and on.
Now,
just imagine how much better God must know us if I got to know my students this
well in just a few months.
5. How to welcome
Hands down,
my favorite time of the work day is walking into the dining hall in the early
morning when the kids are eating breakfast. They greet me by flying out of
nowhere to give me (or my leg) a tight hug and looking up at me with a wide
smile as if my appearance is the best thing that had happened to them so far in
the day. Every morning, no exceptions.
From the
very first day, my kids had no inhibition in expressing this kind of welcome
towards me. Here I am, a complete stranger, not to mention the only Asian in
the whole day center, and my kids either don’t notice it or don’t care.
Caring less
about creating barriers between us and
them with external differences – socioeconomic
status, age, religion, sexual orientation, race, and whatever else – and caring
more about welcoming others into my life with mercy is what I’m aiming to grow in
during this year of service and beyond.
We may not
be able to stop grey hair from sprouting out (which is increasingly becoming my
problem), or be blessed with turbo speed metabolism and unending supply of
energy. But we can all still be a kid at heart, right?