The Tuesday Child

His eyes have seen the darkest of nights; His very existence, a consummate struggle to belong to someone or something. His mother is a career addict; His father, a hardened man who cannot acknowledge his son because of his stark resemblance to his mother.

I have seen him cry even thought ‘boys don’t cry’. I have seen him puff out his chest, suck back his emotions and act the part of the tough rebel without a cause. I have seen him use pervasive language while smoking cigarettes that he is far too young to purchase. And I have seen him sitting part runaway, part homeless on the bus stop bench that is across from our school.

He is my Tuesday child; My prodigal son if you will.

I have no knowledge of the things he has witnessed or experienced in the last year of his life. His eyes seem haunted by the year gone by and his cheeks hallow from the hunger of living on the streets. Being detained by the CA Youth Authority has probably saved his life. He is back home- And maybe for the first time, he is not running.

“I won’t let you down this time Miss Jillian. I promise”

His words cause my heart to ache and yet at the same time they have prompted my love for this child to be more fierce, more purposeful. I have reminded him that he need only to worry about letting himself down. And I have told him that we all deserve a little bit of grace in life.

Today with all enthusiasm he asked to share with me about what he is doing to keep himself out of trouble. And so in the midst of ringing phones, the ever growing stack of paperwork on my desk, and the white noise of our morning student appointments- I shared a conversation with him. His eyes were alight with joy and humor and maybe a trace of longing. We talked of writing- he has decided to write a novel and so I plied him with questions about his book and the characters and I hoped that perhaps in that twenty minutes of conversation that he felt seen- that he felt like someone cared about him- truly about him- Because I do.

The clock was ticking away his appointment hour and so I gently reminded him that he needed to get some work done before his hour was up- He thanked me for our chat and paused as he was pushing in the chair back into place- “Miss Jillian, I’m going to bring in my novel on Thursday for you to read- you know- so you can give me your input and make suggestions.”

I smiled and told him that there was nothing in the world that I would like more than to read his novel.

And as he went back to his student table- he left wearing a smile, head up, shoulders straight, and a slight skip in his step.

The phones kept ringing, the papers on my desk still sat in a pile, the white noise still white noise but for a moment I closed my eyes and I gave thanks to my God for this Tuesday child; His prodigal son; His beautiful creation- And in my heart, I knew an overwhelming sense of gratitude for simply being present on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday morning at our center.

Source: http://inventingophelia.blogspot.com/2010/08/tuesday-child.html