Well, I got my wish.
For two of my last three full weeks in Jordan, I’m with Hazem during the day. In my final week, I’ll wrap things up in the office and take a vacation.
While I was visibly excited to begin working full-time with Hazem this week, in the back of my mind, I was also apprehensive: I know how physically and emotionally drained I can be after just a few hours with him, just a few days a week. Am I ready for 8:30 AM to 6:00 PM days, day after day, for two weeks? I’m already grieving the departure of all the other children I love. Can my body, mind, and heart handle more Hazem time now?
The first day, like any other day, brought good moments and bad moments. While bouncing on the trampoline in the gym, Hazem was as happy as I’ve ever seen him, and his happiness is positively contagious. On the other hand, while Hazem worked on (played with) Braille, I felt especially frustrated by his lack of progress.
Snack-time typically ends at 4:00 PM. On that first day, the deputy head of the deafblind unit turned to me at 4:05 and signed, “Okay, you’re off now, bye!”
“Wait...Aren’t I working until 6:00?”
“No, all of the day teachers are leaving at 4:00, and another teacher will take your place. For the next two weeks, you’re off at 4:00. But do you want to work with Hazem until 6:00 anyways?”
I answered immediately.
“No no, that’s okay.”
I said good-bye to Hazem and left the unit.
I got my wish, and I didn’t truly embrace it.
I was surprised myself.
And even more surprised that I didn’t regret my decision.
I felt relief.
Then shame.
Didn’t you say that you wanted this more than anything else? Don’t you love this boy? Don’t you want to at least TRY to make a significant impact in these two weeks? What will you do instead during those extra few hours? Read, write, rest? How is this anything other than selfishness?
I don’t know how to respond.
...And I might just leave it at that.
From Audrey Assad:
You could plant me like a tree beside a river.
You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild.
And I would blossom like a flower in the desert,
but for now,
just let me cry.
Bind up these broken bones!
Mercy, bend and breath me
back to life!
Jesus despises shame; He scorns it. There is no shame in Him; it doesn't come from Him! If you felt relief, you needed it. And that does come from Him. Jesus is your refuge, your strength, your salvation, and your song. So rest, Willy. You will love again tomorrow, for as long as He enables you. Rest - and sing!
ReplyDeleteFrom SLS AKA DAD: This post brings me great joy. When I consider how reticent and inept I've been throughout my life at recognizing and experiencing my feelings . . . and how unreflective I've been concerning these feelings and my unconscious responses to them . . . particularly feelings of pain . . . I rejoice at your honest, self-aware reflections.
ReplyDeleteTeaching children who are deafblind is incredibly complex, and often exhausting. Among all the joy and happiness that is shared, the exhaustion is compounded by the fact that these children cannot directly express their joys. We have to interpret all of it. For the past year, it has not been your job to teach Hazem. To bring him into awareness of language and self-awareness takes every waking hour, and no teacher does that alone. Rather, your job has been to know him, and allow him to know you. To bring him as fully into life as he can be. I had 3 years with Mohammed. 3 years of relentless teaching. But we will always be their limitation. Our inability to understand, teach, and engage these children makes it so hard to ever be satisfied. So, even if a year didn't mean enough time together, or enough progress, it still meant a year of living out at year of love that the children might not have otherwise been exposed to. It might not feel satisfying, but you will have to live with that dissonance until God's peace allows you to accept that there are some things you will never be able or capable of giving to Hazem. But when there was no one else, you were there to give him what you could. Bless you for that.
ReplyDeleteAnd God bless you, Brent, for that!
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