All the Little Children

A few days ago, in my 2nd session of infantil, the class bad boy (we'll call him "Javier"), sat at my feet for story time. Normally, I'm surrounded by the girls in the class. They constantly play with my hair, reach up to hold my hand or give me stickers. The boys rarely sit with me, and certainly not Javier.

The first thing I noticed was his hair -- his jet black hair had white flecks speckling the top. My mind automatically thought the worst... "He probably has something crawling around in there, too!" This inner monologue made me gasp aloud, ashamed, and Javier turned around and looked at me with curious, wide, dark eyes. I smiled back at that perplexed face, suddenly feeling nothing but warmth toward him. He grinned, having realized that I was okay, and he was in the clear. Then he faced forward again and pushed his head back between my legs, so that his cheeks were even with my knees. Something inside of me jumped, giddy, at this sudden offering of trust. The other children watched me and him carefully, gauging my reaction. I slowly started to sway my knees side-to-side, his face caught in between. He laughed at this game. Then I noticed his smell. Tears prickled in my eyes as I continued rocking him left to right, and I looked around at the other children. Neat smocks. Clean hair. Why hadn't I noticed before? He sat that way, his warm little body between my feet, for five minutes or more, the best behaved I'd ever seen him.

When it was time for the children to return to their tables to color, I asked the two teachers in the classroom, "Javier?" I didn't know what else to say. Their faces grew stony. They proceeded to tell stories of infamous siblings (also unattended), horrible parent-teacher conferences, and "gypsy ways".

My eyes filled with tears again. The week before, I had lost my patience for the first time and had told him harshly, "Javier! Just sit down!" I had spat out his harsh name, the "j" a hacking, guttural "h" sound. He had probably only caught the word "sit," but my meaning had been perfectly clear. My face and voice needed no translation. Students had been all around me, shouting, "Teeeacher teeeacher! Feeenished!" and waving worksheets in my face, while Javier had been throwing crayons and making another child cry. He had deserved to be reprimanded, I realized that, but now I knew a little bit more about his situation. Why he needed attention, be it positive or negative.

When the class ended, and I quietly shut the door behind me, I couldn't shake the image of an expectant, quiet Javier sitting at my feet. I didn't notice a teacher walking toward me in the hall until she stopped me, catching me mid-thought.

"Que paso?" she asked.
"Javier," I stated.
"Oh..." she said softly, squeezing my shoulder with a smile before continuing down the hall.

In one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning retells the story in Mark of Jesus stopping during one of his journeys to bless the children. Now, I'm not Mother Teresa, but I do believe that I have the same Love inside of me, ready to be given, no strings attached. Everyday, I have the personal choice of whether or not to respond to those around me out of love and grace. Should I give others what they deserve? Do I favor the best behaved? Do I kiss the dirty child's cheek, too? What if things get icky? What if I'm pushed outside of my happy, safe bubble? I want to share a passage from this book that came to my mind after my encounter with "Javier":

Mark records that a group of parents, who obviously sensed something of God's love in Jesus, wanted Him to bless their little ones. The irritated disciples, fatigued by the long day's journey on foot from Capernaum to the district of Judea and the far side of the Jordan, attempted to shoo away the children. Jesus became visibly upset and silenced the Twelve with a withering glance. Mark notes carefully that Jesus picked them up one by one, cradled them, and gave each of them His blessing.

My friend Robert Frost comments:
I am so glad Jesus didn't suggest they group all the children together for a sort of general blessing because he was tired. Instead he took time to hold each child close to his heart and to earnestly pray for them all...then they joyfully scampered off to bed. One is tenderly reminded of a beautiful messianic passage from the prophets. "He will feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his arms, he will carry them in his bosom, and will gently lead those that have their young" (Isaiah 40:11). I think there is a lesson here for anyone who would seek to set any kind of false condition concerning just who should be the recipients of God's grace. He blessed them all.

I'm sure I'll continue to be challenged by what I encounter at my schools. I will lose my patience. I will see more situations that will make me want to go home, throw myself on the bed, weep into my pillow and shake my fists because the world isn't fair! Thank goodness, though, that we have ALL been "recipients of God's grace"! Put a Javier in my path. I want to become so weak to myself and my selfish desires, so small, and my comfort zone to grow so large that the ever-strong Love within me will simply flow out to each and every one.

Mark 10:13-16 (NIV)

The Little Children and Jesus
13 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15 Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.