I was sitting outside supervising the other children when the youngest of my kindergarten children came through the open door, rubbing her eyes, having just woken up from sleep. I was having one of the roughest days. My head ache was ready to make my temples implode and my eyeballs fall off my face. Without a word she climbed in to my lap and completely relaxed her tiny frame against mine. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and buried my face in her hair, feeling the sting of tears burn my tired eyes. We sat like this for awhile.
She eventually hopped off my lap and looked at me quizzically. I couldn't put my happy teacher face on anymore, I didn't hide anything as I stared back in to her deep blue eyes. The Lord has started a process in me to redeem me from my past, and revisiting the memories, although not alone, have been completely draining. She asked me what was wrong in her tiny voice, and I said that the loudness was hurting my ears (some children were pretending to be lions in the background noise). She carefully cupped her hands over my ears in such a delicate manner. She kept searching my face and looked deep in to my eyes, as if she was waiting for the 'hope' switch to flick on and bring some light to my eyes. I placed my hands over hers, and instantly realised how warm our hands were together.
It was such a simple statement, such a plain fact, but she said it in a way that breathed love. All she said was, 'Your have brown eyes.' I smiled, and replied with, 'Your eyes are blue.' She started telling me her entire family's eye colours, including her grandparents. She didn't take her hands away from my ears the entire time. She kept trying to protect me.
I noticed she was still sleepy eyed and asked her if she wanted to hop back on my lap. She gave this impressionable sigh like she's just worked a solid 9 hour shift and stretched her arms out to be picked up. I wrapped her in my arms, and gently sang a song of worship. I only knew the chorus, but the lines seemed appropriate. "Call me, call me out of where I have been." Somewhere between the singing, I whispered "Thank you" to the tiniest of my kindergarten children, and continued the song from there.