Smile on Crutches
Amanda would come barrelling down the school hallway every morning with a massive smile. Not just a physical smile, but a smile from the heart; one that beams with sheer contentment and expressive joy. This ray of light would come down the hallway on a limping body of a paraplegic.
The last two years of teaching were ridiculously tough. I would often approach my door, fighting back the tears as I fumbled for my keys. In hindsight, I realized I was so wrapped up in the chaos of the heinously behaved children and the fact of how miserable they made ME, many days I failed to notice Amanda's amazing nature. Now, by the grace of God, I am out of that situation, and have had memories from those two years pop into my head like a bad dream. It has been like a challenge, God asking me, "What are you going to do with those last two years?" He's gently been reminding me that pain does not consume by accident, or occur by default. There is a divine purpose in times which may resemble hell on earth. This seven year old has been my current muse for smiling.
Amanda got a tumor at the base of her spinal chord at the age of two. This left her paralyzed from the waist down. She was told that she would be restricted to a wheelchair her entire life. When I received my roster that year, I was told I would have to create a classroom environment that was wheelchair friendly. I did. However much to my surprise, the first day of school she walked in, with a walker and that Amanda smile. I should have noticed immediately that this girl was not your regular inner city little girl with a huge physical ailment.
Amanda could not do P.E. or other activities with the other students, but she still smiled as she sat and conversed with me as the kids played. She lived her mom in extreme poverty, but she never complained. She would come without breakfast, but still tried the hardest one could without energy. The kids would tease her for her limp and for wearing diapers. She would reply as though she took it to heart, but responded in a manner much like I would imagine from someone twice her age.
I did a house visit once to see an apartment in shambles. She was sitting on the floor playing with her toys. She saw that her teacher was there and couldn't be more excited. She didn't get embarrassed, but rather was more about people than the apparent chaos in which she lived.
It is strange the timing God has to allow us to process whatever we have experienced. I visualize it as a large unfinished puzzle. As we experience things, the picture will start to make sense. Currently I have been reminding myself daily to have faith in regards to His timing. There has popped Amanda and her smile, accompanied with the familiar sound of her crutches clattering down the poorly painted hallway. She seemed to have understood God's grace, down to her paralyzed bones.
The last two years of teaching were ridiculously tough. I would often approach my door, fighting back the tears as I fumbled for my keys. In hindsight, I realized I was so wrapped up in the chaos of the heinously behaved children and the fact of how miserable they made ME, many days I failed to notice Amanda's amazing nature. Now, by the grace of God, I am out of that situation, and have had memories from those two years pop into my head like a bad dream. It has been like a challenge, God asking me, "What are you going to do with those last two years?" He's gently been reminding me that pain does not consume by accident, or occur by default. There is a divine purpose in times which may resemble hell on earth. This seven year old has been my current muse for smiling.
Amanda got a tumor at the base of her spinal chord at the age of two. This left her paralyzed from the waist down. She was told that she would be restricted to a wheelchair her entire life. When I received my roster that year, I was told I would have to create a classroom environment that was wheelchair friendly. I did. However much to my surprise, the first day of school she walked in, with a walker and that Amanda smile. I should have noticed immediately that this girl was not your regular inner city little girl with a huge physical ailment.
Amanda could not do P.E. or other activities with the other students, but she still smiled as she sat and conversed with me as the kids played. She lived her mom in extreme poverty, but she never complained. She would come without breakfast, but still tried the hardest one could without energy. The kids would tease her for her limp and for wearing diapers. She would reply as though she took it to heart, but responded in a manner much like I would imagine from someone twice her age.
I did a house visit once to see an apartment in shambles. She was sitting on the floor playing with her toys. She saw that her teacher was there and couldn't be more excited. She didn't get embarrassed, but rather was more about people than the apparent chaos in which she lived.
It is strange the timing God has to allow us to process whatever we have experienced. I visualize it as a large unfinished puzzle. As we experience things, the picture will start to make sense. Currently I have been reminding myself daily to have faith in regards to His timing. There has popped Amanda and her smile, accompanied with the familiar sound of her crutches clattering down the poorly painted hallway. She seemed to have understood God's grace, down to her paralyzed bones.
Who am I to question God? I am healthy, smart and have no physical or mental restrictions. I have a degree and a credential, have travelled extensively and have friends and family who repeatedly shock me with love and loyalty. I have had so much more than this little girl who never failed to smile with prevailing joy. I pray that I can be seen this way, or better yet, truly live a thankful life.
I think often of Amanda and pray that life doesn't eventually steal this treasure away from her. She seems to have figured it out at such an early age. May the young ones teach us. May I see the joy in what I have instead of the pain in what I don't have. May the smile on crutches continue to saturate my heart, marinating it to the point of beaming grateful joy.
posted by Lilly Underfoot @ 8:44 PM
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