Hope at Easter and Always

     Pearl Harbor.  It was a routine assignment I had given my sixth grade students, an article to read, dissect, and ultimately create various level of thinking questions in preparation for our weekly Socratic Seminar, a discussion where students share out the questions they've created, and then engage in an interaction answering each others' questions, or respectfully disagreeing.  It's fascinating at times, and never more so than on this day.

     The discussion began as usual, the back and forth with fairly predictable questions asked and answered.  "Why did Japan bomb the United States?"  "Was it fair?"  "Did someone have a warning?"  "How would you have felt if you were alive then?" Then came the question from a student that changed the direction of the exchange.  He calmly asked, "When in your life have you been surprise attacked by something?"  I wondered where this would go.  Another student blurted out a response without first raising his hand, "When my mom left me to the courts," he said, and started to cry, barely finishing his words. The student who initially asked the question jumped right in,  "Yeah, I was surprise attacked when my mom left me at the park. Now I live at the orphanage."  The class was quiet.  A box of tissues was making the rounds as other hands were raised and voices chimed in with their surprise attacks.  The clock said we had forty minutes left. 

     Thinking on my feet I prayed for the right words. There was pain in their voices, confusion, sadness.  The question, "Why?" was woven into nearly every comment.  Were they too young to understand the life lesson of not letting their sorrow, their injustice be wasted?  The moment was tender and sincere, kids wanted to know why, and they wanted to have hope for their future.  I needed to make the most of the time left on the clock, and help them find a solid place to land.  "It's about forgiveness."  Their questions were flying at me, hands weren't raised, I tried to respond quickly hoping no one felt left out.  "What does that really mean, teacher, and how long does it last?  What if you can't? Does that mean you forget?"  By now I was sitting on a stool, tissue in hand.  These students had already studied Ancient Israel, so some were still familiar with Joseph.  We went there for starters in my answers to them.  "He would have missed out on so much of life had he not forgiven.  Do you want to miss out on all the seventh grade will bring you?  What about eighth grade, and high school?  What is to be gained by not forgiving?"

      It was getting deep.  There were some students who felt guilty because they hadn't been abandoned.  I smiled.  "All of our journeys are unique.  Some of you have strong scaffolding to support you, others of you grasp on to whatever life jacket floats by in the storms of your life.  Forgiveness frees you, and it prepares you to not be stunned by your next surprise attack.  There are people who want to hurt you.  They are hurting, and when you're happy, it throws them off.  They may even collaborate with others in their attack of you."  Two girls in particular were tuned in.  One needed to be offended by anything, looking through the Rolodex of her life searching for a reason to be offended.  She would try one card and then another.  Frustrated that she couldn't shake the other girl, she sought to include others in her plan.  Middle schools students are adults in younger bodies.  I'd tried multiple times to help "Susie" see how her need to be offended ruled her young life.  It was a cesspool of sorts, patterns and habits held her, and she didn't want to be free.  The male student who'd replied how surprised he was by his mom leaving him to the courts was calmly listening.  The tendency in human nature, young students included, is to compare stories.  A mom abandoning her child to the courts pretty much trumps any story, including a student seeking out a reason to be offended.  Thankfully I didn't feel a competition in the attitudes of these wide eyed students.  I kept it going.  

     I tried to explain to them that whatever another does to you, most of the time you can't control.  I showed them the illustration of a bottle of water.  The water is your emotions, your time, your energy, your thoughts.  Who gets the water of your life?  Not the one who abandoned you. Not the one who seeks out a reason to be offended. You can't stop others in their behaviors, but you can decide what your response to it all will be. Forgiveness.  The student who began this questioning blurted out the commonly piggy-backed follow up, "What about forgetting.  Does it mean if I forgive, I will forget?"  I wondered if his question was rhetorical as he seemed to already know the answer.  "Forgiveness is moving on.  You may not trust them again and always be cautious around them if you have to be around them."  I remind them of Harriett Tubman.  She knew how to politely ignore people and comments that were made, many from fellow slaves. She knew people were seeking her out, wanting her to fail, but she kept on keeping on.  It wasn't in her strength, she relied completely on the Lord.  He sent people her way to encourage her just when she needed it most.  "You may want to change the wiring in others, want to open their eyes, but most people prefer to keep their wiring just the way it is.  So, you have to put a plan in place.  It's what adults do, but alas you need to start now.  Don't establish wrong patterns of thinking.  You are a victim, but you don't have to let that control your life."  I wonder about my two students who were abandoned at such a young age. It's likely the individual who abandoned them will return later in life, unchanged. How will they handle it? "Choose forgiveness, but choose boundaries too.  Surround yourself with solid, safe friends, and be ready with forgiveness always." They stared, some cried.   We passed around peppermints to lighten the moment, and yes my two abandoned boys privately received bags of gifts the next day. 

      I brought the conversation back to Pearl Harbor, and the Holocaust.  The Jewish people had to work on forgiving Germany, some still do.  Americans who fought in World War II weren't in a big hurry to forgive Japan, or to drive any car made there in subsequent years of  civilian living.  Japanese Americans had to forgive the United States for internment camps they were forced into under a nervous government. Forgiveness is not softness, it's being smart, it's taking control, it's being free.  Sweet lambs, they will sort through their maze and prayerfully land on solid ground.  Only God can take away their pain and help them to heal.  

        Whether it's Pearl Harbor, or every day living, nothing surprises God.  Jesus life and death was not a surprise to Him, as shocked and saddened as His followers were. It is His death and resurrection that provides forgiveness to all.  His Spirit empowers His own to in turn forgive.  Jesus life and death are the fountain from which pours out the comfort for abandoned children or perplexed nations. His quieting presence and peace are ours this Easter season and always.