Not lovely

(Please excuse the bad grammar.  I know I'm not supposed to say "they" when referring to one person; however, I'd like to keep this as anonymous as possible.)

In the history of great weeks at work, this one did not rank among the top, unfortunately.  I had meetings four out of five days after school and practically drowned in paperwork.  Then there was that dangerous blizzard on Monday afternoon that snowed all of us in with its four-foot drifts.  Oh wait.  That didn't happen.  I might add that we didn't even have one snowflake stick to the ground here in Norman.  Because everyone ended up having to come to school after the Great Snowpocalypse of 2013 had been forecasted, spirits were down among teachers and students (that's an understatement).  Probably the hardest thing, though, was when I spent over an hour in the hall with Student while they kicked, punched, banged on the walls, ran away, and screamed every hateful name in the book at me...all because Student's other teacher and I wouldn't let Student play video games at school.

As this was happening, my normally low blood pressure was through the roof, and I was fighting to hold back tears.  I felt so frustrated and defeated, and in the moment, it took everything in me not to give that child a piece of my mind.  Then the other teacher in the hall with me said, as calmly and genuinely as anything, "We love you, Student!"

That was the last thing on my mind.  I did not love Student just then.  In fact, I would have been so happy if Student had gotten suspended for their behavior.  I don't think Student could see my anger because I never raised my voice to them, but I was inwardly seething.

After taking the evening to detox and reflect on what happened, I came to a few conclusions:

1.  Every day is a new day and a chance to start over.  Thank goodness for that!

2.  Student's behavior is exactly how I act when I don't get my way.  Oh, I may not kick, scream, or punch people, but I'm also not five anymore.  Now that I am 24, I have learned more socially appropriate (but equally destructive) mechanisms of dealing with my anger and sense of entitlement.  I have my own ways of "throwing tantrums" at the people who stand in my way or at the God who actually knows what is best for me.  "You're not going to let me have things the way I want them?  Okay then, I'll just be manipulative and not talk to you until you change your mind."    

3.  Everyone deserves love, even (and especially) when they are not lovely.  What if we all only loved people when they were nice and appreciative?  Yikes.  I think about all of the times when I am not nice or appreciative (which is most of the time) and am so thankful for the grace that has been shown to me in my ugliness.  That kind of love is what can melt hearts of stone, and Andrew and I have been humbled by the amount of it that we have received lately.  Today, more than ever, I am grateful for the fact that real love isn't given based on whether or not I deserve it.