At the Pull-out Shelf of the Teacher's Desk

Children often teach us the best lessons about God and first grade student, Robert Bronner was no exception for me. As a new teacher at Arrowhead Elementary, my colleagues gave me the low down on what I could expect that year with seven year old Robert. The teachers told me everything that Robert couldn’t, shouldn’t and wouldn’t do regardless of pleading, prodding or punishing. Not one teacher had anything positive to say about Robert nor did they think to tell me that he had been retained in kindergarten primarily because of his mother’s death that year. Robert was a very tall, very handsome and very rambunctious boy with chocolate brown skin and a smile that melted my heart on the first, and every day, of that school year.
 
It didn’t take long to figure out that Robert was indeed a naughty boy. He let me know quickly and emphatically that he agreed with my colleagues; he couldn’t do the academic work expected of him, he wouldn’t be nice on the playground and he wasn’t clear about personal boundaries or socially acceptable expectations. I reminded him quickly and emphatically that I was there to help him learn and I would take full responsibility for his success in my classroom as well as on the playground. Robert learned quickly that I said what I meant and meant what I said and he spent a number of his recess minutes by my side and many hours next to my desk. Sure enough in time, Robert and I began to love and respect one another just as I had anticipated.
 
I had a teacher’s desk that year that had a small pull-out shelf that could be used as additional work space. Somehow that became Robert’s “desk of choice” for most of his hours at school. One day about mid-year Robert stopped working and stared at me for a long time and then said something I will never forget. I was sitting, he was standing so we were eyeball-to-eyeball when he said, “Mz. Jamson, you smell like my mama.” His words made my heart skip a beat. I sat dumfounded for a moment and tried to swallow the grapefruit lump in my throat. I finally hugged Robert, helped him with his spelling and our school day pressed on but his words echoed in my heart all day long.
 
Robert Bronner didn’t really smell his mama on my skin; he felt the love of his mama coming from my heart. The Father’s heart is the same toward you and me … He pulls out this small work shelf and invites us to sit right next to him, not concerned that we feel “naughty” or that we need His help. He doesn’t even care if we can’t read or spell or do things right. In fact, His attention and heart of compassion are on us when we struggle most in the classroom of life. He says, “Come, sit right here next to Me, I’ll help you, I’ll do this with you, I’ll be here for you and accept you as you are.” His heart breaks when our heart breaks, he notices when life beats us up or when grief tears us down, he is delighted to take responsibility for loving us back to a place of worth but like Robert we have to receive God’s love and help. Like Robert we have to trust God and believe that what He says about us is true. How much like Robert Bronner you and I are ... dependent, love-hungry students in the classroom of life.

Psalm 40:17 (CEV) “I am poor and needy, but, LORD God, you care about me, and you come to my rescue.”