I met a little boy in my class named Eric. When I first entered the class, I noticed all the smiling faces and a number of kids running around the room. But not Eric. He was under a table. He looked like he was in hiding. When I approached Eric, he hesitated to say hello and moved himself closer to the wall. Any closer and he would have been in the wall. I asked him his name but he refused to answer. I told him it was ok, that he could come out, but he didn’t.
He turned his face towards me and when he caught my gaze he would immediately turn his head away.
I could sense that Eric may have been a victim of abuse at home. I later learned that his father was never home, his mom spent all her time at work, and his sitter would always hit him. Over the course of the month, Eric started to smile here and there. He would play outside and even would play with the kids, but then he would turn violent and super aggressive towards his classmates and even his teachers. And it would happen in seconds.
Eric would kick and scream, throw chairs, and sometimes would bite himself, but he wouldn’t cry. One day he admitted to me, that when he gets hit, he doesn’t cry because it doesn’t hurt. Eric just would not cry…until this one day he had another one of his episodes. I remember holding Eric in my arms to calm him down and telling him he was a good boy and he was loved. Eric let out a piercing scream and started crying helplessly. It broke my heart, but I had to keep telling him the truth. I don’t know if Eric was ever told he was a good boy or if he was even loved. So his response was normal. He soon reacted by spitting at me, punching me then running out of the classroom. So I did what anyone would do… I ran after him. I saw him at the gate frantically trying to open the door to escape but I had caught up. He had pushed me away. He ran on the jungle gym. Then proceeded towards the gate. He somehow found a way to get out.
There I was standing, waiting for him. I would sit with him as he would burst out into tears begging the principal that he wanted to go home. Eric looked helpless. There was no way out but into the arms of a woman who he just met. But still he resisted. I just stood there waiting for him. I didn’t care that he spat at me. I didn’t care that he punched me. I didn’t care that he walked or ran away from me. I cared about him. I wanted him to know that he was safe. I wanted him to know that no matter what I would be there with him. Then it hit me…
God, my Dad, has done the same with me.
He sits with me.
Even when I give him the cold shoulder he continues to wait for me to turn to him again. Even when I have yelled at him, when I’ve questioned his faithfulness or doubted his goodness, he’s just sat with me and waited. He waits with me.
He waits for me to look at him.
He knows that when I look at him, I only see him. I only feel him. Complete peace. Complete reassurance. No fear can be in his presence, because my gaze is on the maker of Heaven and Earth. My mind and my heart are not looking at the things I cannot understand, but to the one who knows all things. Psalm 103 says “The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Isn’t that something we can put our hope in? We have a God who loves us unconditionally, who is not short tempered, and is eager to stay and wait for us to look at him again. He wants to be compassionate towards us. He waits for us to throw up our hands and say “God carry me!” so he can bear hug us. He wants us to go to him with every fear and every worry.
Eric has been doing a lot better in class. He pays attention more and has thrown less chairs in the past week. He definitely wears a smile more often and has stopped hiding under the tables. Eric has been my special helper in the class. He helps me when we sing songs and play games. He also is a very bright student and is learning English quite well.
On our last day there, we gave each student a little toy with candy inside. He was so overwhelmed with joy that he embraced both me and my teammate with big hugs. While hugging me, Eric looked up and said “Christa, I am always going to love you.” I nearly cried at that moment. It was the sweetest thing!
In the same way, God longs for us to do that. To look at him and say “God, I am always going to love you… through the hard times, through the good times, in confusion, when I’m angry or tired or alone… I am always going to love you.”
Please keep Eric in your prayers, for his family and for his time at school.
Next and final stop of this journey is El Salvador. Continue to be praying for my squad and my team as well get ready to head over to our last month of the race. Pray for our final debrief and pray that we finish strong!
