Coloring

You know by now if you have read any of my posts that I learn so much from first-graders.  Sometimes the learning is from a word of wisdom which pops from my mouth to meet the particular need one lone student may have.  This was the deal this past week.

Arnie (name changed for privacy purposes) was whining that his hand was just too tired to continue coloring.  The job he had done thus far was notable, but it seemed he had broken at least three crayons and the waxy color was so thick on his picture, it could practically be called three-dimensional.  So I had a word with Arnie.

I asked him if he liked music and birds singing and the sound of gentle falling rain.  Oh, yes, he liked those things.  Then I asked him if he liked music so loud that he had to cover his ears.  Oh, no, he didn't like that.  So I told him that of course the loud music was still music, but was unnecessary and in the covering of one's ears, the beauty may be missed.  I told him his coloring was beautiful but the pain in his hand and the broken crayons may be an indication that his coloring was too "loud."  So I suggested he tone it down, give his hand a break and make a beautiful melody with his hand and crayons.

He completed his picture like a charm and to date he has continued his melodic coloring.  Let's let what we do be easy on the ears, easy on the hand and beautiful to behold.

Little Man

School, for a first-grader is experienced just like you and I experience life as adults, only they are pint-sized and perhaps cannot express themselves, generally speaking, as accurately as adults because their vocabulary is limited, their writing skills are only beginning to sprout...  Yet they look each other in the eye and share information as though it is all that matters in the world, and it in fact IS all that matters in their little worlds.  Their stresses are life-sized to them, just as adults' stresses are indeed life-sized to them.

Specials at school are fun because they mix things up a bit.  They happen once weekly and are therefore more of an event.  We have wonderful special teachers.  The librarian can tell a story that can be hypnotic, the phys ed teacher is so skilled in her directions that each and every gym class is filled with aerobic-type activity which leaves the students panting and wanting for more.  The art teacher artfully (pun intended) directs the students, and each one creates a masterpiece he or she can be proud to take home.

One particular art class involved painting a hand and using it as a stamp.  Before anyone could stop it, one six year old had used her pants as a paper towel.  She cried and shook as though she could no longer face life, her pants to her had been ruined.  I assured and reassured and reassured again that the paint would come out in the wash, her pants would be good as new, but she would not be comforted.

Then there is Little Man.  It was not during a special, but at the onset of recess, early in the school year when his inner fortitude would be tested.  Little Man patiently awaited the arrival of recess for he had brought with him to school his very own baseball and glove.  Walking on the path out to the playground, a playground aide spotted that he was toting this base-ball, which was far too dangerous for throwing on a playground painted with six year olds.  She moved in like a member of the secret service to inform Little Man he was not allowed to bring such a ball out to play!  When I saw the tears beginning to flow, I moved in swiftly, bowed low and told him how big he was inside to take this shocking disappointment like such a grown-up.  How big it was of him to accept the fact that his ball could not be thrown during school.  How proud I was of him to be able to wait until he was home to have a toss with that incredibly special ball.

It worked.  He could handle the disappointment.

I once heard a poem, I forget the entirety of it, but it began with, "Disappointment, His appointment..."

God help me understand a "no," and to know it is going to be fine, for I am in Christ.