After college graduation, I was armed with a strong resolve to be a counselor for troubled youth.I took an internship with a center for troubled kids, but after a month of battling the more difficult cases, I realized this was not what I was looking for in a career and I felt lost-- my sense of direction was broken, and faith in my own ability and Gods plan for me sufficiently weakened.
I was young and filled with enthusiasm for the journey ahead. I had plans and dreams, which I started to pursue with a firm determination, only coming up empty.
While I was trying to figure things out, I decided to start substitute teaching. Christmas was coming and I needed quick cash. I went and signed up on a dismal day, not in the best of spirits and upon entering the office, the secretary asked me several questions, one of which changed my life: "What about out special needs children?" Shortly thereafter, I received a call (not many people are willing to sub special needs children), which I immediately accepted. Just getting out of the house was a breath of fresh air, and the chance of a new start.
Kyle spit on me when I first walked in the door. "Kyle!" screamed one of the teachers (there was a class of 6 kids, with 3 teachers, I was subbing for teacher number 3). Kyle was autistic and his routine, when interrupted upset him very much. I wiped spit from the front of my shirt, and mentally sighed. Amy was the child assigned to me. She was four feet tall with black hair, green eyes and the face of a downs child. She clung to me as we went to the different classrooms, and seemed very pleased I was there even though Chaos prevailed in the classroom. This was a low functioning group that was difficult to handle, and I was amazed as the realization hit me that there were people patient enough to be with these kids every day. I was obviously not one of them, and as the day drug on, my patience grew thin for the group. However, my curiosity and affection for Amy grew stronger. She was so tender-hearted and sweet. She couldn't speak clearly, but seemed to be trying to tell me something. Still, dwelling on the present was not foremost in my mind. I was trapped and wanted desperately to be somewhere else, the worries of life stark before me. I wondered how a burning desire to be successful had filled me through and after college, only now to leave me confused and afraid. Something was missing; my mind tried to recall logically was it could be, and confusion overwhelmed me.
At the end of the day Amy looked straight at me, as if to say 'I love you, thanks for taking care of me.' I understood then that my heart had the answers that my mind did not. Suddenly the fog lifted from my mind, and I felt at peace. I realized that everything would be okay if I just had patience and faith--things that had been buried under my own ambitions the last four years. In Amys eyes, just for a second, I was looking not at a small downs child, but a full grown, beautiful woman, who was perfect in heaven, and had been sent to earth to help the faith of those who needed it. I was instantly reminded that the Lord will test us, but not past our limitations. Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached down and hugged Amy goodbye.
As I drove home, I pondered the Saviors love for me as an individual, in giving me specific trials and experieces to learn from. I knew that faith was the belief in things not seen, and by revisiting the spiritual things I believed in my faith was renewed, and I could go on living a happy life, because I truly believed I had the Lords direction and guidance. I realized that didn't mean guidance would lead me down a happy path all the time-- sorrow being essential to my growth in character and wisdom. It dawned on me that the teachers were not there to teach these special children; they were here to teach them, me. Amys innocent loving spirit buoyed these simple thoughts to the top of my mind and heart, where they've stayed ever since-- especially during the hard times.
Its been nearly ten years since that day in the classroom, and here I am with my family, twelve days before Christmas, standing over Amys grave. I think back to that day, which seems like a dream to me now, all the small details blurry and indistinct, but there is still one very vivid and beautiful memory. Throughout the day Amy kept pointing to a snow globe in the classroom. I would pick it up and shake it, while she stood watching the flakes slowly settle at the mini carolers feet. She would emphatically point at it, until I repeated the process. I did this all day, and when I went to leave Amy insisted I take it. The other teachers said she had never been as adamant about something before, so I took the Globe and it has since brought many happy memories to our home.
All those years ago, Amy's sweet spirit touched my life in a profound way. She gave me the gift of remembering my Heavenly father loved and cared for me. He hadn't left me alone, and never would. I shook the snow globe lightly and placed it on her head stone, leaving with it a prayer of thanks, and a few tear drops.
