We moved upstairs to let another class use our lab/classroom. I don’t particularly like the upstairs room – it in no way feels upper, if you get my drift. The kids commented as they entered. “There’s no mojo in here, it’s not the same, Mrs. Sullivan.” I agreed and went to work, trying to rearrange and take a little of the edge off.
I “saw” none of today before it went down. I work better from foresight.
Half the class was gone, playing tennis. That can be difficult to work around, but I noticed something today, even as they were gone. Even in that angular and arid room, we who were left sensed a safety from one another. The students were quietly trusting when I shared what we would be doing, the dreaded Distraction Prayer Journaling. It is free writing out of the heart, “Just write about what feels lodged or weighty or floating about, untethered.” They dropped their shy eyes from mine, no hungry attention grabbers among us, and wrote – too freely for it not to be pouring from that full place. Almost all dropped down or shared what they could find to share. Some, went straight to it, no detour, no trip around the block to take a glance at my house before stopping in. They dropped their heads and deep into their hearts and wrote themselves free of things which had guarded against their good.
When we finished, we tried to write our prayer in one sentence. Then I did not know where else to go. I sat a moment and listened to the music that I was playing, hearing some to the words for the first time, clearly. A story, mine, from the previous week begged to be told, some in the class had a part in it, it seemed right to share it with them.
One precious girl opened her eyes wide as I began to speak of the ways God had gained and secured my attention one particular day the week before. He had given me prompts and in so many ways used some of the students in the room, at times unknowingly, to help me. I told this tale of how God used this and then that to guide me to a place, external and internal. And then how He had opened my heart to let Him work on something where I had so long neglected His hand extended to help.
They stared at me and my story, our story. I let us sit in the quiet and revelation that God uses us.
Then I took up their distraction prayers. I read (silently) the prayer and comments of little girl whose eyes got so big. The photograph that I had seen, and relayed seeing to the class, the one that God seared into me and used to get my attention and prepare me for the work I needed and He wanted to do in my needful heart, had been hers. I saw it on her face book page when I was nudged to find her phone number and check on her at the hospital, where she was having a test, too… More amazing, the picture’s content was the subject of her prayer.