First Grade - Forgiveness
As I mentioned in my last post, everything changed in 1st Grade. I should have been making friends, beginning to grow academically, and receiving new adults into my life with some admiration and respect for them. But First Grade had a much different impact on my life. Those looks from my teacher. And as the kids caught on; those looks from my peers.
There were some super nice kids. I remember them well. But they did not make the unkind kids less intimidating to me. Nor did they make my teacher seem any more friendly. They were a small comfort in my terrified state - and the weight of their kindness did not overcome the weight of all the bad. But a comfort they were.
One day, I was terrified to come into the school after recess. Just terrified! There had been some threat. If you don't get your papers done ... ? I don't remember the threat, but I do remember the fear. I hadn't gotten it done. I stayed outside. At some point, I knew I had to come in, and terrified, I walked into the school. There was a boy who'd been sent outside the classroom for being disruptive. He was so excited to see me, and yelled and pointed "You're in trouble!!" Big smile on his face. He ran into the classroom to tell the teacher I was standing out in the hall.
She came out and told me to go to the Principal's office immediately!! The Principal is our PAL. That's what we learned in spelling later on. But I hadn't learned that yet. I would learn it that day though, that while he had a large wooden paddle on his wall, he truly was my pal.
She did not walk me down, she told me to go. Then she disappeared into the classroom again. I stood there, shaking. I went into the little girls room, that was right there, in the hall next to the classroom. Several stalls, and when you flushed the toilet it sounded like Niagara Falls, what with the echo and all. I had once peed my pants in class, just so I wouldn't have to go into that terrifying toilet room, with the loud scary flush. Maybe that was one strike against me - peeing my pants.
So there I stood, all alone in the little girls room. Shaking. I heard footsteps after a while, so I hid behind the door. Soon, the door opened and there she stood. With the vein in her head about to pop. I bet one kind word would have made all the difference in the world. I was terrified, not defiant. She grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of that rest room. I dug in my heels and began to cry really hard. She picked me up and physically carried me to the Principal's office. My legs kicking and flailing, tears streaming down my face.
First Grade. I was a baby. But I looked upon this start in life as my fault. I was bad. I was not like the other kids. I didn't fit in. Even the boy out in the hall seemed to be liked by this teacher. He may have misbehaved, but he wasn't different like me. She hated me.
I began to see myself in a very bad light at a very early age. And I began to skip school. Yes, I began missing a lot of school at the age of six. Faking sick, hiding around the back of the house just when the bus pulled up the road. We had one car that my father drove to work every day. My mother didn't have her license. She didn't know what to do with me. I made her cry. That's because I was so bad. I was very, very bad. I didn't tell her what was happening in school, or how much I hated it. How my teacher treated me. How I was not accepted by my peers. I wish I had. But in my mind, I was interpreting it as all as my fault.
Of course, as an adult, I understand that I was a baby. I was not so, so, so bad. But I actually did not realize this until I was in my 20's. I just hadn't thought of it in so long. When I revisited that grade in a discussion, it struck me. She was wrong! I was a baby! It was not an issue of good or bad. I was a child. I was normal. It was up to her to nurture and teach me. And I do forgive her, because she just couldn't. She didn't have the tools, apparently, to love all her kids. She didn't know the damage she was doing.
We need to forgive, and I do forgive her. And I forgive the mean kids too. As I said in my last post, we live in a broken world. I get the whole thing in a much different light now. But wow, the damage truly affected every area of my life. And I have hurt and damaged others, because I am broken too. God loves us all, and He is redemptive. I do not regret one minute, because it has all made me who I am today. I accept and embrace who I am today. My brokenness has given me empathy for others. It has made me sorry, so sorry, for those who I have hurt.
I am still a work in progress, which that statement in and of itself will make many laugh. Yeah, no doubt. If you know me at all, you know I am a work in progress. God is not finished with me yet, and I do not say that as an excuse to keep doing wrong. But to recognize that perfection is for heaven. As long as we are growing, and learning from our mistakes.
Forgiveness. Acceptance. Loving our enemies. Embracing the hurting. Impossible without God! Only by His grace, and by His Spirit is any of it possible at all.
Matthew 5:43-48 states that we must love our enemies. And be perfect, even as our heavenly Father is perfect. Our only possible response to that is requirement is "I can't." Because we can't! But when we are born again, and His Spirit resides in us, He teaches, guides, strengthens and enables us to do the impossible. Then we can. Do we do it perfectly and always? Well I can speak for myself - no, I do not. But when I lay down my thoughts and ask for His help - I find it is possible. Through Him and in Him, I can do this. One of the hardest people to forgive is myself. At age 61, there is a lot to forgive. That takes a special grace. I am still learning.
There were some super nice kids. I remember them well. But they did not make the unkind kids less intimidating to me. Nor did they make my teacher seem any more friendly. They were a small comfort in my terrified state - and the weight of their kindness did not overcome the weight of all the bad. But a comfort they were.
One day, I was terrified to come into the school after recess. Just terrified! There had been some threat. If you don't get your papers done ... ? I don't remember the threat, but I do remember the fear. I hadn't gotten it done. I stayed outside. At some point, I knew I had to come in, and terrified, I walked into the school. There was a boy who'd been sent outside the classroom for being disruptive. He was so excited to see me, and yelled and pointed "You're in trouble!!" Big smile on his face. He ran into the classroom to tell the teacher I was standing out in the hall.
She came out and told me to go to the Principal's office immediately!! The Principal is our PAL. That's what we learned in spelling later on. But I hadn't learned that yet. I would learn it that day though, that while he had a large wooden paddle on his wall, he truly was my pal.
She did not walk me down, she told me to go. Then she disappeared into the classroom again. I stood there, shaking. I went into the little girls room, that was right there, in the hall next to the classroom. Several stalls, and when you flushed the toilet it sounded like Niagara Falls, what with the echo and all. I had once peed my pants in class, just so I wouldn't have to go into that terrifying toilet room, with the loud scary flush. Maybe that was one strike against me - peeing my pants.
So there I stood, all alone in the little girls room. Shaking. I heard footsteps after a while, so I hid behind the door. Soon, the door opened and there she stood. With the vein in her head about to pop. I bet one kind word would have made all the difference in the world. I was terrified, not defiant. She grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of that rest room. I dug in my heels and began to cry really hard. She picked me up and physically carried me to the Principal's office. My legs kicking and flailing, tears streaming down my face.
First Grade. I was a baby. But I looked upon this start in life as my fault. I was bad. I was not like the other kids. I didn't fit in. Even the boy out in the hall seemed to be liked by this teacher. He may have misbehaved, but he wasn't different like me. She hated me.
I began to see myself in a very bad light at a very early age. And I began to skip school. Yes, I began missing a lot of school at the age of six. Faking sick, hiding around the back of the house just when the bus pulled up the road. We had one car that my father drove to work every day. My mother didn't have her license. She didn't know what to do with me. I made her cry. That's because I was so bad. I was very, very bad. I didn't tell her what was happening in school, or how much I hated it. How my teacher treated me. How I was not accepted by my peers. I wish I had. But in my mind, I was interpreting it as all as my fault.
Of course, as an adult, I understand that I was a baby. I was not so, so, so bad. But I actually did not realize this until I was in my 20's. I just hadn't thought of it in so long. When I revisited that grade in a discussion, it struck me. She was wrong! I was a baby! It was not an issue of good or bad. I was a child. I was normal. It was up to her to nurture and teach me. And I do forgive her, because she just couldn't. She didn't have the tools, apparently, to love all her kids. She didn't know the damage she was doing.
We need to forgive, and I do forgive her. And I forgive the mean kids too. As I said in my last post, we live in a broken world. I get the whole thing in a much different light now. But wow, the damage truly affected every area of my life. And I have hurt and damaged others, because I am broken too. God loves us all, and He is redemptive. I do not regret one minute, because it has all made me who I am today. I accept and embrace who I am today. My brokenness has given me empathy for others. It has made me sorry, so sorry, for those who I have hurt.
I am still a work in progress, which that statement in and of itself will make many laugh. Yeah, no doubt. If you know me at all, you know I am a work in progress. God is not finished with me yet, and I do not say that as an excuse to keep doing wrong. But to recognize that perfection is for heaven. As long as we are growing, and learning from our mistakes.
Forgiveness. Acceptance. Loving our enemies. Embracing the hurting. Impossible without God! Only by His grace, and by His Spirit is any of it possible at all.
Matthew 5:43-48 states that we must love our enemies. And be perfect, even as our heavenly Father is perfect. Our only possible response to that is requirement is "I can't." Because we can't! But when we are born again, and His Spirit resides in us, He teaches, guides, strengthens and enables us to do the impossible. Then we can. Do we do it perfectly and always? Well I can speak for myself - no, I do not. But when I lay down my thoughts and ask for His help - I find it is possible. Through Him and in Him, I can do this. One of the hardest people to forgive is myself. At age 61, there is a lot to forgive. That takes a special grace. I am still learning.
Love Your Enemies
43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers,[i] what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? 48 You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
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