God has a plan for you
Twice this week someone has told me that God has a plan for me. When I responded, “So what’s this plan?” I was met with a mischievous grin as if they knew something I don’t know. Not fair. If God really has a plan for me, shouldn’t He be talking to me about it? What’s the plan? Am I playing along or resisting?
I’m not so sure there is this big master planning going on in the Kingdom of God. I find it easier to believe that if I keep an open mind and open heart, I am available for God’s work in the world.
This school year I was assigned a young kindergartner to watch over in the cafeteria during breakfast. Then I would walk him to his classroom daily. This little boy was African American with the big dark eyes and a round face. When he smiled, his whole face lit up. He won my heart easily. I’m not sure what he thought of this unusual partnership, but I looked forward to being with him and letting him hold my pinky finger as we walked to class.
The reason I was assigned this little boy was he was a trouble maker. One of his many behavior problems was that he would wander the halls and not go to his assigned classroom. I heard other talk about his behavior. His mouth was apparently filthy. He was violent. He was stubborn. His home life was poor.
Only on one occasion did I have a struggle with him. That morning he arrived angry and showed this by tearing up a box of Kleenex from the bus and throwing it on the ground. I tried to talk to him and reason with him, but he fought with me. I held him tightly and let him kick and wiggle. Eventually, his teacher came for him. I wish I could’ve understood his behavior and helped in some constructive way, but I felt helpless.
Is God really using us even when we feel helpless? Does God have a master plan for everyone, even the weak, lonely, and uncared for? I’m not sure if I helped my charge, but I hope he carried away a sense of love and hope. In the midst of my frustration, I wrote the following poem.
BD*
I take you home in my school bag
to unravel the reasons
you are who you are?
Who can I blame?
your mother,
society, God?
Who is there to hold you when you cry?
To wash your knee when you fall?
To feed you cereal in the morning?
Your brother finds some stale chips in a bag,
serves them in a fractured bowl,
and says eat,
My body is given to you
so that you may live
in a world that cannot save you,
A world so wrapped up in itself
no one sees you
for who you could be.
No one sees Jesus here.
*BD is a term used to mean “behavior disorder.”
Reflections on the Teche 