lost reality...
14 January 2006
12 January 2006
They stole it from me! Took it from the deepest place within me, a place dark, secret and a bit forlorn. They carry it around with them day after day without a thought to the consequences. Yes, those children took my heart.
I work almost full time at a daycare. I do all the same things a kindergarden teacher would do, except that I do them after regular school hours. Therefore, I am titled "daycare worker." Ah but that title falls so far short of what I am, not in the sense that I am too good or the title too lowly, but that these kids are too good and the allowed behavior of "daycare workers" too lowly. Those children are precious, and people who seek to work with them without understanding cause, cure or care make me cringe. Those kids have my heart on a platter because within their eyes, I see fire. I see life. I see something that some hold back and others have forgottan. When fellow "daycare workers" come by to "show" me a thing or two, I try to hear them. I try to understand. "Oh, they've been in the daycare circuit for 5, 10, 15 years. They must know what they are talking about." But how can you feed 4 and 5 year olds the evil eye, time and time again, and not think once that maybe that pounding excitement that occasionally slips out of their control is a glimpse of something more.
They have my heart and can keep it, for a day without feeling that pull on my heartstrings is something to be missed. A day without their small arms wrapped 'round my leg is something to be endured. A day without "please, Miss Kala" is something I never want to face.
My youngest brother and sister at home are to blame of coarse. If it weren't for my "Buddy" and my "Moosh," my heart would not skip several beats at every small one's smile. But then it must go back farther than that, for even when I was small I leapt at the chance to teach, guide or do something in the lives of others. Teaching is my greatest joy. Singing and music-making feed me; history (HIS story) and imagination fill me; writing and "mathing" further me; reading and telling fix me; working and studying frighten me; strengthening and enduring fortify me. But feeding, filling, furthering, fixing, frightening and fortifying others... ahhh, that consumes me!
Reading my 4 and 5 year olds The Magician's Nephew and all of those Chronicles, creating stories out of thin air and watching young eyes glaze over in awe and excitement, those are the things I feel called to. Those are the moments I seek out. Those are the just cure that "daycare workers" are missing out on. With fevor and tenacity, we should then live with Nehemiad hearts that long for Jeremiad tomorrows.
Give your heart to a child and see where it takes you.
I work almost full time at a daycare. I do all the same things a kindergarden teacher would do, except that I do them after regular school hours. Therefore, I am titled "daycare worker." Ah but that title falls so far short of what I am, not in the sense that I am too good or the title too lowly, but that these kids are too good and the allowed behavior of "daycare workers" too lowly. Those children are precious, and people who seek to work with them without understanding cause, cure or care make me cringe. Those kids have my heart on a platter because within their eyes, I see fire. I see life. I see something that some hold back and others have forgottan. When fellow "daycare workers" come by to "show" me a thing or two, I try to hear them. I try to understand. "Oh, they've been in the daycare circuit for 5, 10, 15 years. They must know what they are talking about." But how can you feed 4 and 5 year olds the evil eye, time and time again, and not think once that maybe that pounding excitement that occasionally slips out of their control is a glimpse of something more.
They have my heart and can keep it, for a day without feeling that pull on my heartstrings is something to be missed. A day without their small arms wrapped 'round my leg is something to be endured. A day without "please, Miss Kala" is something I never want to face.
My youngest brother and sister at home are to blame of coarse. If it weren't for my "Buddy" and my "Moosh," my heart would not skip several beats at every small one's smile. But then it must go back farther than that, for even when I was small I leapt at the chance to teach, guide or do something in the lives of others. Teaching is my greatest joy. Singing and music-making feed me; history (HIS story) and imagination fill me; writing and "mathing" further me; reading and telling fix me; working and studying frighten me; strengthening and enduring fortify me. But feeding, filling, furthering, fixing, frightening and fortifying others... ahhh, that consumes me!
Reading my 4 and 5 year olds The Magician's Nephew and all of those Chronicles, creating stories out of thin air and watching young eyes glaze over in awe and excitement, those are the things I feel called to. Those are the moments I seek out. Those are the just cure that "daycare workers" are missing out on. With fevor and tenacity, we should then live with Nehemiad hearts that long for Jeremiad tomorrows.
Give your heart to a child and see where it takes you.
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