Surviving 9th Grade

When I was little, I watched Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys. I always felt sorry for these toys who just didn't fit in. They were broken, and no child wanted a broken toy for Christmas. I hadn't thought of the movie in years, until a few weeks ago, that is.

3:15 is my favorite time of day. Each day if there's any way I can make it to the Rotunda, I walk out for just a moment. Teaching is stressful, but these moments are precious. You see, this is when the kids in self-contained special ed walk out to their buses. They have Downs Syndrome, use walkers, are blind, and have a variety of other problems. These children are broken.

But, they have such joy. They smile and laugh and literally skip through the Rotunda. They are precious, and I walk out there just to remind myself of the joys of life. (After wading through massive piles of paper, I often need the reminder.)

The more I've thought about it, though, maybe that's not the only reason I visit the Rotunda each day. I see these broken children filled with joy, and I realize we're all broken. Most of us walk through life wearing masks to hide our brokeness. Ours is usually internal. We hurt, we pine, we struggle, but we always, always hide.

My broken children remind me that it's okay to be broken. They can't hide their brokenness, and in the end, neither can we. We're a flawed people in a flawed world - do we have another option than to be broken? So, on those days when I'm tired and stressed and broken in so many ways, I am reminded that it's okay. I can admit I'm broken. Until I do, I can't receive grace, and without grace, I can't live whole forever.