Today should have been the last day of school where my daughter teaches, but she cleaned out her classroom almost a month ago.
I helped that day, one quiet Saturday morning. She told me how I could help, what needed to go in bags and what should stay in the classroom. As we worked, she reminisced.
It’s been quite a year. You might recall a post from several months ago when I helped clean the classroom after a virus quickly spread through the school. As I wiped each Chromebook and desk, I prayed for each student and family. I didn’t think I’d have another hands-on opportunity to do the same—because of a virus.
My primary motivation was to help my daughter. I knew she was struggling to adjust to the new way of teaching and communicating with her students, especially missing the final weeks of school with them—a time that can nearly drive teachers crazy some years but is deeply missed when it’s taken away. Even when they know it’s the best under the circumstances, it’s difficult. I wanted to ease your heartache by being with her as she organized and packed.
I intended to be a blessing to her, but the experience was exponentially a blessing to me. Yes, I savored getting to help my daughter, but I also deeply appreciated being able to have a hands-on experience (in a very hands off time) with so many students and families—people who are struggling with their own challenges. I don’t know most of them, especially the families, but I know no one is unchallenged by this challenging stay-at-home time.
As I cleaned and sorted, I prayed for the remainder of the school year, for family dynamics, for cultivated faith, for summer refreshment and memories, for courage to begin the new school year in the fall. I prayed my daughter and other teachers will be patient with themselves and allow themselves to heal through the grief this odd season has prompted. I prayed for those making decisions; I cannot imagine the burdens they must experience. And I prayed I can continue to serve as God leads and provides.
We often use the phrase, “All I can do is pray,” but that is truly the most we can do.
Let’s get to it together.
Pure Purpose 