We're in Galatians 3. Listening, absorbing, applying, thinking... learning. A couple of leans to my husband's strong, comfortable shoulder. A laugh at a teacher joke... but whoops, maybe only I thought it was funny. No matter. Second time in a row I've been able to enjoy CE (Sunday school, for many of you) and it's lovely.
Then it pierces the door.
Reality stabs my heart.
I know I have to let the well-trained, seasoned in special needs education, angel of a lady deal with it. I can't interfere.
My interfering got us here, I'm afraid.
It was likely two minutes but felt like an eternity before my heart gave in. Hastily handing off my copy of scripture to the man with the strong arms who holds my heart in his, I half-run out of the room.
Then, as quickly, reason takes over. This will never stop if I give in to his pleas for Mommy.
I know he is safe. I can hear how she is dealing with him, calmly and evenly, firmly and kindly.
I stand around the corner, praying that he'll calm. Pleading.
Do I know what to do? No. All I know is that what I've done thus far hasn't worked.
Reminders come from hands, mouths, different voices... but all from caring hearts... that this is the place to be. We are loved, never judged, stood beside in the battle lines. We work together to integrate this precious soul into this body of believers... into the education he needs to enjoy life.
Nervously, I hit the pump on the coffee pitcher, then notice orange. Before I can stop the words, I'm saying out loud that no, I don't want decaf... blah blah blah... the words pour from a mouth already full of frustration. Hurt for my little guy.
But He gives more grace. James 4:6a
Just when I think we've maybe filled our dance card... that surely these people have had enough... we get a grace and mercy refill. Peace and love and care pour over us. Then the sermon is all about how Jesus hung out with the different... the outcast... the undesirable.
The whole morning was a hug from heaven.
More than a hug... our daily bread.
God uses willing hearts. No program, budget, committee, or added staff member can replace willing, loving, caring hearts. They are the hands and feet of Christ.
Thanks be to God for Redeemer.
Then it pierces the door.
Reality stabs my heart.
I know I have to let the well-trained, seasoned in special needs education, angel of a lady deal with it. I can't interfere.
My interfering got us here, I'm afraid.
It was likely two minutes but felt like an eternity before my heart gave in. Hastily handing off my copy of scripture to the man with the strong arms who holds my heart in his, I half-run out of the room.
Then, as quickly, reason takes over. This will never stop if I give in to his pleas for Mommy.
I know he is safe. I can hear how she is dealing with him, calmly and evenly, firmly and kindly.
I stand around the corner, praying that he'll calm. Pleading.
Do I know what to do? No. All I know is that what I've done thus far hasn't worked.
Reminders come from hands, mouths, different voices... but all from caring hearts... that this is the place to be. We are loved, never judged, stood beside in the battle lines. We work together to integrate this precious soul into this body of believers... into the education he needs to enjoy life.
Nervously, I hit the pump on the coffee pitcher, then notice orange. Before I can stop the words, I'm saying out loud that no, I don't want decaf... blah blah blah... the words pour from a mouth already full of frustration. Hurt for my little guy.
But He gives more grace. James 4:6a
Just when I think we've maybe filled our dance card... that surely these people have had enough... we get a grace and mercy refill. Peace and love and care pour over us. Then the sermon is all about how Jesus hung out with the different... the outcast... the undesirable.
The whole morning was a hug from heaven.
More than a hug... our daily bread.
God uses willing hearts. No program, budget, committee, or added staff member can replace willing, loving, caring hearts. They are the hands and feet of Christ.
Thanks be to God for Redeemer.
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