A worksheet that I had found scattered bits of time to review, improve, and print was received with unsurprising lackluster by my students. Class after class, student after student, groan after groan was emitted as I slid the packet onto their desks. Sometimes, I would joke with them and say, “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’.” Other times, I would internally roll my eyes at them and, also internally, admonish their lack of gratitude. Or, at least, their incredibly verbal ingratitude.
“But it is almost the end of the school year!” they said mournfully, as they acted like the worksheet was twelve pounds of weight.
“Yes,” I replied, “but ‘almost’ is the key word there. School involves school work. What did you expect?”
Their response grated on me after a few classes, even though I wasn’t entirely surprised by it. Yet as I was passing out papers to yet another class, I had an insight, a bit of a revelation. A type of realization that is always a little unnerving after the internal frustration I’ve expressed towards my students.
I am them.
Day after day, year after year, the Lord hands me something He has crafted, something for my good, and I respond with an ungrateful heart. I see what it is and I groan. I beg the Lord for something different. “This?! Again?” I say, pitying myself. And, because the Lord must be far cleverer than I, He responds with my own words to highlight my depths of foolishness, “This is life. It involves work and challenges. What did you expect?”
All of the thoughts and quips I have used in response to my students come back as a lesson against my own ingratitude, my own desire to have my way in all things. The hope that some of my students can one day realize how their attitudes are so challenging is twisted into the need to see how my own internal litany of grievances can be a place of growth. My prompting for my students to do the work they don’t have the energy for becomes a recognition of my own need to do all the things I don’t want to do. So many of the things which I encounter in my students on a daily basis and annoy me are found nestled in my own little heart.
But there is hope.
In particular, I see in my mind’s eye an image which has happened over and over again this school year. I use my sword of sarcasm to parry and banter with various students, seeking to cajole them into accepting the ‘gift’ I offer them. “That sounds like a thank you,” I’ll say or, “If you don’t want the study guide, I can take it back.” And there in the midst of the disgruntled youth is a quiet student with brilliant eyes. He takes in my quips with an intelligent expression, rarely adding much to the conversation, but his lively eyes bouncing between the jostling which occurs. As I give him his worksheet, he quietly says, “Thank you.”
There is my glimpse of hope.
Perhaps I can be more like him.
Despite my weariness and my desired yet thwarted plans, perhaps I, too, can receive what is given to me with simple, quiet gratitude.
Thank You, Jesus, for all of the gifts You pour upon me. Help me to receive Your abundance with openness and gratitude.
—
Photo by Jessica Lewis 🦋 thepaintedsquare on Unsplash
Seeking After His Heart 