The Children

I have, of late, found myself enchanted by stories shared by Mom’s telling of their lives with their diverse children. All sort and description of environs and settings. Varied ages and interests told of. Demonstrations of talents, abilities and gifts that entertain, amuse, and bring a tear of admiration. And I miss, sorely, an immersion in that magic.

I have attached, to this reflection, a photo of myself in an environment that was as close to heaven as I have had opportunity to be for a long while. I was invited to visit a local elementary school that I might provide a “break time” for teachers of kindergarten and first-grade students. Each teacher would bring their class to the library (Yes!, don’t say it, please. I know. It is now referred to as a “media center” in today’s nomenclature. But it will always and forever be the library for me. And my dear and treasured friend, Carole, who was [she has retired now] the “Librarian”, was my hostess and the one who invited me.)

So, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, for a few weeks, I had the immeasurable joy of having a single class at a time sitting on the big round rug before Mister Brown’s chair as I read a wondrous selection of stories to them. And I took advantage of the opportunity to pause … and s_l_o_w_l_y point to each and every one of these gifts from heaven … and tell each individual “I love YOU,” and after another pause … the next one … “and I love YOU” … and so on, until each child was personally reassured that they were, in fact, loved for that day … as an individual. I took the moment to let them absorb a reality of relaxed, comfortable, natural, and gentle language of love and respect. For each other. And for themselves. It was glorious!

I have no doubt that MANY of these gems of potential had never been spoken to in such an intimate and gently caring way. Most especially the boys. So you can only imagine my joy when, as his class was lining up to leave the library, a tall, thin lad of far-East extraction, ran back to me, threw his little arms around my neck and declared “I love you Mister Brown!” I have tears flowing as I recount the moment, even now. Nothing could surpass my joy in that instant. Then, seeing what this bold classmate was doing, an adorable little “Shirley Temple look-alike”, bolted from the line and delivered her version of the same. I know that there were clouds in the sky that day … but they were so far beneath my feet that I couldn’t describe them.

After that encounter, it became “group hug and proclamations of love” time for each class as they prepared to leave me. I had teachers whose classes did not come in for reading sessions, come into the library to find out just who this guy was … this “Mister Brown” that they heard students and directly involved teachers speaking of. And why? Simply because I chose to open my heart to, and teach those darling treasures to open themselves to, intimate and genuine expressions of those emotions that they had no previous vocabulary for. I allowed them to discover the joy of honoring and being confident in the worth of their feelings. And the boys seemed to be the most grateful .

On my last day there, I attended several holiday presentations made by students for their parents, in their individually decorated and prepared classrooms. Their was an endless parade of parents saying “So! YOU are the Mister Brown that he has been talking about all these weeks.” Don’t you see, My Dear Reader, it mattered to these children. An environment of validation and caring was immensely important to them. As was demonstrated by the excited voice of one little boy as he repeatedly called my name whilst I was headed for my van at close of all of the holiday festivities. Here he came, at full gallop. His Mom was hurriedly trying to catch up with a very large package carried in both hands. “He asked me last night, to bake his most favorite cake for today. When I said that that was a very nice idea for his classmates … he replied ‘Oh no, Mom. It’s for Mister Brown … he will be there!’” I was overwhelmed! There he stood … waiting … knowing what simply HAD to follow … “I love you [and I gently spoke his name]” He literally glowed!

So, Dear Friend, with my eyes blurred with fond recollection, I take this moment to thank all of you whose stories of loving and supportive … caring and engaging … and intimately involved living and growing experiences with your children, have been such a joy and blessing for me.

I do, indeed, love You.