smile because it happened

Immense doesn't begin to describe the range of emotions I've felt over the past few days. After completing one of the toughest, yet most formational experiences of my life and leaving a city that has become home and friends that have become family, I'm emotionally exhausted.

Me and the roomies at Coney Island

Bittersweet doesn't really capture my mood either--there isn't much sweet about it.

But at a time like this, a familiar saying comes to mind: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." 

I've been smiling a lot recently.

There's the ear-to-ear smile brought about by uncontrollable laughter and sheer exuberation.

There's also the teary-eyed kind that, despite the look of it, comes from a deep sense of satisfaction and profound accomplishment.

Best team ever. No question.

And of course there's the kind of smile that I've found myself wearing most often in recent weeks. It's almost a one-sided grin with a sparkle in the eyes. It's the one belonging to someone who knows something that you don't. Someone who's completely content and supremely at peace. Someone whose thoughts and experiences can't quite be put into words or onto paper, but whose memories are rich. Memories which won't fade.

The memories are all I could ask for. I smile.

from heartbreak to hope

A week ago, today, a tragic event shook the school where I work and the community where I live. One of our 5th graders named Joel took his own life. You can read the story here. 

I was in the room with the other 5th graders when our principal broke the sad news. I watched them wipe their tears and write goodbye letters to their friend Joel. I didn't know him well, but all signs say he was a smiley, happy kid, as any 5th grader should be.

Our school community is still figuring out how to cope with this awful situation and it has stirred my pensive mind. Was there more I could have done? Are there more Joels out there that I can reach?

It's hard for me to imagine what drives a 12-year-old to believe that no life at all is better than the one they have, but I suspect that it starts with one little misfortune, frustration, or bad day--then another and another.

My heart grieves thinking about this, but I know that the opposite is true, too: it takes just one smile, one high five, or one short conversation to give someone hope.

Through Joel's tragedy, hope is blossoming.

In the past week I've cherished my time more, held my students a little tighter, and reached deep to find energy when I thought I had given all I had.

In the past week I've seen a community come together and support each other the way that it should.

And in the past week I've seen students rethink the ramifications of what seems like innocent bullying--a conversation that I pray will continue.

A Coldplay lyric comes to my mind at a time like this: "Every siren is a symphony and every tear's a waterfall."  

We're all connected. Our pain is collective and our burdens are shared. We have the capacity to affect each other in ways we don't realize. We can choose to tear each other down or we can decide to build one another up. God, help us choose the latter. Let us see the divine in each person we pass. Let us see each other as brothers and sisters.