So, seeing a teacher retreat to the offices with tears pouring down her face got a lot of kids attention at the the local middle school yesterday.
She knows that there are many more tears to come, that her heart will be broken many more times in the coming year.
The boys first name is English, but his last name is Hispanic.
His father is a Mexican national, his mother from here.
He had to go home early yesterday as some other kids had started chanting “build that wall” in the halls between classes, others had shouted “pack your bags”.
He’s fourteen years old, he’s never been to Mexico.
He’s never been outside the state.
He thought this was his home.
Maybe, they think, he can live with grandma when his parents have to leave…
A lot of kids won’t be in school today… or maybe ever again, here.
A teacher will learn to teach through tears for them all.
They marched in the streets of Portland last night shouting “not my President”.
I would not have joined them.
The people voted, the system worked, and he is our President.
That choice must be honored.
My soul is not crushed because he won or because the other side lost, but because our choices carry real consequences for people and the consequences for the some of the most vulnerable among us will be catastrophic.
I fully confess I value the rule of love more than the rule of law, though both are necessary.
There is little I can do, little hope that I can offer…but I can love and I can listen.
I can try to find hope and I can try to pray.
The walls we’ve already built between us seem too high to scale now…but God bless those who are looking for ladders.