Billy

                           

This week, Miss T was very upset. She discovered that my students' mother came to pick them up in a Hummer. The mother of the twins gave her a purse for her birthday, and she also gave purses to two other teachers on their birthdays. Miss T was upset, because the other teachers received Phat purses and her purse was not a brand name purse. She claimed discrimination and asked if she should give her purse back. She insisted that she has ten cats and she should have the purse with the Phat cat on it. I was surprised that one of the other teachers exchanged purses with her. I do not know if it was just to shut her up. All I know is that the students do not like Miss T because she yells at them. She says she loves her job, but I think she is in it only for the money and for the time off in the summer which she claims she spends in Europe.

Working in a school has opened my eyes to this type of teacher mentality. There are so many teachers in our schools who shouldn't be allowed to teach. How do they get away with working as a teacher when it is clear that they do not like children and that they are not there to make a difference?

Many people look to a job to meet their physical and materialistic needs, which is fine, but I think that people get bored in their jobs, because they are too busy thinking only of themselves. Miss T is such a person. People are really bored hearing about her adventures in Europe and hearing her complain about how she would take cats over kids anyday.

 

So what does Miss T have to do with this picture of Patrick Dempsey?! Well, it is just an observation to the other side of the coin...

 

                                         

Seven years ago, I had a mentally ill client who looked like Patrick Dempsey. This picture reminds me of the  last meal Billy and I shared together at a local restaurant where I used to live.  He was leaning over the table just like this, with eyes of sorrow that brought a tear to my own eye. Billy cut lawns for a living. For him to invite me to eat at this restaurant was his humble token of appreciation. It was very touching to know that he had mowed lawns just for this moment, our last goodbye. It is so appropriate that as I write this, the maintenance people are cutting the grass outside my apartment, and it is even more appropriate to know that Patrick Dempsey played a role in which he mowed lawns.

 

This picture brought back memories of all the wonderful people the Lord has allowed me to serve... the lost, the rejected, the forgotten, the people that nobody seems to care about.

 

The Lord knew what he was doing when he allowed me to suffer at the hands of cruel people. He shaped me and molded me with his fingers of long-suffering, perils, and danger. In my childhood, there were many nights that I would cry to the Lord and ask him to take my life... so many that I lost count. The stars and the heavens listened to my cries for help. When I sat on that rooftop, with my doll clenched in my arms, was there an angel of God sitting next to me? And what about all those nights when I would wake up, surprised to catch myself crying in my sleep? Tears, oh, so many tears, and yet, the daytime brought a smile on my face that no one knew the wiser. When you are going through such terrible things, you pray for it to end, but for me, it was only my beginning. When I died on that operating table, it was as if a part of me had to die to allow a new me to  emerge. Yes, the Lord molded me like clay with his hands to prepare me for a new life, ever so carefully trying to glue together all the tiny little pieces of my broken heart, of my broken life.

 

My trials, my suffering were my greatest lessons, and it was through my suffering that I found wisdom to see beyond what normal people see.

 

Like Marilyn, I am just a girl wanting to be loved, but it would be selfish to hide myself with only one man when my life is meant to be shared with the world. The things that life has taught me have provided me the opportunity to meet and serve so many people. The rewards of my work cannot be measured in gold or in dollar bills or by the love of only one person, but the rewards of my work have made me richer than any millionaire in the world.

 

Stories, stories, stories! I have so many stories of the people that I have helped to make a difference in their own lives. It makes me sad to have to say my goodbyes to the people and the children who have left imprints in my heart, but the Lord knows that there are still so many more people that I have yet to serve. 

 

I love these people unconditionally and never expect anything in return. For me, it is enough when they show their appreciation in their humble words and their humble ways. They bless me when they say that I have touched so many hearts, but in reality, they are the ones who have touched mine. 

 

Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same. -- Unknown

 

Having to always say goodbye is hard. It just gives more validation to my reality  that I am but an instrument that is only passing through this life. The brief moments that I share with all these wonderful people are the symphony that plays in my heart. It is those moments that we share that fuel the fire of my spirit. It is those moments that prepare me for the next person that I have yet to serve... and for me, that is enough.

 

Winivere