I used to be a Teacher – for both Primary and Middle School
age ranges at various points. I was a Music Co-ordinator in one and a Special
Needs Teacher in the other. I loved teaching – enjoying the joy and exuberance
of musical performances, the delight on the faces of children when they finally
‘got it’ after struggling for a while (and then watching them explain it to
someone else!), or finding new ways of assisting a child to ‘work around’ situation swhen they were being harassed or
harried by others.
Had I not been recommended for training for Ordination, I think
my path would have gone towards becoming an Educational Psychologist, a
Specific Learning Needs Teacher or a Psychotherapist. Something of this call to
walk alongside others is borne out in Ministry, and it was something that I expressed
at one of the earliest sessions we had at Theological College. “What is your
strapline?” we were asked. “How would you sum up your call?” For me it was hard
to express and always has been
– but it has something to do with being the one
who accompanies others along life’s rich and delightful and challenging way. It
is about being the one who is alongside (even if the person doesn’t know it),
the one who witnesses and who watches, the one who is willing to give time and
to say (often without words), “You are worth me giving you this time and this space
and this energy that is mine”. To be able to do this is a rare privilege.
Thus it is that I felt called to be here at Beit Jala. In the
four small rooms that offer sanctuary to children in need – as well as their family
and friends – the children have a bed to sleep on whilst the parents (usually
the mother, but not always) each have a mattress that, each night, is put on
the floor having been propped up against the wall during the day. Long
days with their children who are from all over the Palestinian Territories,
with all sorts of needs – some able to communicate but all, some mobile
but not all, some able to go home at weekends but not all. Part of why I am
here is to say in some small way that someone can be bothered. You are worth
bothering with and your children are worth bothering with. For this very short
period of time I am happy to come and play with them, to work with them, to
teach them and let them laugh at me when I don’t know the Arabic for chair or
water or hello. This evening, long after I ‘finished’ for the day and have been on google translate and other websites that will translate Arabic into roman lettering so that I can have a stab at pronouncing some words, I have been
on the Ward to play games with one of the children – which actually turned into
four of the children. The mothers looked on, glad of a bit of respite, and I am
happy to be with these children who have little idea of what I am saying when I
say, “Now it is my turn!” but who are delightful to watch when they copy my actions for ‘thinking
and looking’ when we are playing memory games.
The children won’t have any idea of why I am here – I imagine
they will simply be glad someone is willing to play with them. The Play and
Drama Therapist I am working with noted that one child who usually throws
things around actually ‘worked’ relatively calmly with me this afternoon (this
was only once I had worked out that we simply needed to play and be rather than
‘learning’ in any formal sense. The wise ones amongst you will know that
playing is very important too!)
So for this couple of weeks, here I am, with these children and
these parents and these staff members in this place where good work is being
done and somehow I hope they will intuit the ‘message’ that someone (in
this instance me) is here to accompany them along life’s rich and delightful
and challenging way. Someone is here to be alongside, witnessing and watching, willing
to give time and to say (without words), “You are worth me giving you this time
and this space and this energy that is mine”. To serve you in this way is rare
privilege.
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