Thank You, Lord, for the cussing chair…part 2

I was back…  After a long and painful absence of caring for Peter, here I found myself standing in front of my second period American Lit class.  I slowly walked to my podium on that first day back with all the students’ eyes on me.  I take a deep breath, glance around the room at each of the faces, and then look at my roster to start the roll call.  

As I wander through the list, calling off each of the names as I went, my eyes fall to one particular name on that list.  I call his name, Jesus, and look for a response that I got from the back.  I recognised that last name…

There, looking at me from a faintly familiar black sweatshirt were the same eyes as Noe, but with very unruly, curly hair.  

I looked down and double checked the name….

Yep!  Noe and Jesus had the same last name and the eyes were exactly the same!  I looked into those eyes as my heart raced and asked, “How’s Noe???”

Jesus glanced at me more pointedly, as he was caught in surprise…  He said, “He’s doing good.”  

I then asked about his child who would be about three years old now…  Again, Jesus was caught by surprise and responded with, “He’s doing good.  His name is Xavier.”  

I asked Jesus to make sure that Noe knew I said “hello”, as relief filled my heart.  He was okay!  This student who disappeared on me with a broken heart was okay.  I had finally found him again!  

“Lord, bridge the gap…” was all I could think to pray.  If I had his brother in class, I would at least be able to possibly catch up to have a quick conversion.  “Lord, hear my prayer.”

As the days rolled out with my second period class, I found that Jesus had a bit more trust for me right off the bat, as Noe had spoken well of me.  Thanks, Noe! However, I did notice that I was looking at a young man that was quite a bit more hardened than his brother.  He was one of those students who would fire off in some direction that wasn’t good.  His nails were painted black, he had a pentagram hanging around his neck, and the “f” word was inserted into most everything he said.  In fact, he had made an art form of the use of that word.  Did you know it can be used as an adjective for almost everything???  

Because I knew some of his journey, I’d regularly remind him to “tone it down”, which he would.  I leaned over his shoulder one time and asked him to tuck his pentagram into his sweatshirt, which he did.  I never saw it again, but would see the chain carefully tucked into his sweatshirt. He was honouring me…

Then, something crazy would happen and out would come this lovely word and behavior again. In fact, during the time that I had him in class, he made slow progress at finding other describing words that he could insert into his speech that weren’t nearly as offensive.  And as the trimester progressed, I’d check in on Noe…through his brother.  

As the trimester ended, Jesus passed my class and started his final trimester in English with the teacher next door during fourth period.  As God would have it, I had my plan period during fourth period.  Thus, everytime Jesus would “get out of hand” in the other teacher’s class, he would be sent to my classroom.  There, he would sit on a swivel chair that I had and cuss to his heart’s content.  Then, after all the steam blew off, he’d start to talk about what was causing his heart pain.  Why he was justified in having this horrid response.  I would get some fruit snacks out of my closet, hand them over while he talked, and ask questions.  Because of my history with Noe, he would share the pain of what he was experiencing more freely.  

This became our routine.  He’d head to class, hold things together as much as he could, get kicked out of class to my room, where he’d get his anger out on the ‘cussing chair’.  Then, we’d talk.  He’d share the ugly that he was experiencing, and I’d encourage, remind him of his value, and tried to listen more than I spoke…which I am still working on doing.  Then off he’d go again…with a snack in hand.  

As would be the case, Jesus asked me questions, too.  Why I believed what I did…  What did I think he should do about ‘x’... What was my family like…  And during those conversations, I alluded to my faith in a god who loved me and him…profoundly.  I began to slowly tell him about the person I loved more than anything that I called ‘Truth’.  With this listening and sharing, the dark nails disappeared, as did his dark countenance.  In fact, one day he came in and said, “Mrs.  I threw it away.”  

“What did you throw away?”  

“That necklace you didn’t like.”  And then he smiled this big, genuine smile… 

I found that he would come in and check the snack basket in my closet in between other classes and catch a quick “hello” before heading to his next class.  He looked forward to touching base, as did I.  I found that there was more variety in the snack basket, it now had his name on it, and his face had a bit more of a sparkle in his eyes as we’d talk.  

Roll forward two more years…  This precious young man is now under my husband and my legal guardianship.   He is, for all intents and purposes, our son.  He is now attending Central Washington University, my son’s roommate, and doing amazing!  One of his focal pieces of furniture in his college apartment is ‘the cussing chair’. (His graduation present from my classroom…). He, too, is getting to know this person I call ‘Truth’...  This man, Christ Jesus.  Yes, we pray together as a family, we support each other, and he is a joy to have in our lives.   And yes, we are in contact with Noe.  Jesus and I have a pact to pray for and help Noe come to know ‘Truth’, too.  And finally be at peace… 

Not only did I get to find out how Noe is doing, I got to meet Jesus, gain a son and prayer warrior, and that teacher who walked into the room after having gone through a harrowing journey…was being encouraged on a daily basis as I watched this young man come alive right in front of my eyes.  

As Jesus and I remind each other often, “It’s a God thing…”   In fact, we had to get a picture taken before he headed off to college of he and I with “It’s a God thing…” written at the bottom.  

I can safely say, God returns beauty for ashes.  In His kingdom, the currency is grace, love, and restoration.  What is broken, can be made whole.  Where there was pain, there is peace and joy slowly pushing out the poison.  Where there was isolation, there is now family.  It’s the upside down kingdom…

Yes, God is always a gentleman and the most loving person in all of creation….and He was pursuing Jesus.  And I got to be a part of this beautiful “sting operation”.  Lord, thank You!