Last Day of School

Today was the last day of school. My students came for two hours, and then left in a parade of buses with horns blaring, as if to notify the neighborhood: “These kids are yours now!” Since Friday traffic is always dreadful, I decided to go home early and write report cards from there. Not long into my drive, it seemed my plan to miss traffic had failed. There was an accident causing a major backup, even before I reached the freeway. Once on the freeway, I encountered more accidents and more brake lights. Each time I was delayed, I worked to keep my mind rooted in gratefulness.




Thank you for the pretty rain, God.


Thank you that I live in a country where a Christian radio station is legal.


Please bless those in the accident.


Thank you for police officers who provide structure and help in messy situations.



As I neared home, the traffic issues became almost unbelievable. I decided to stop at The Flying Apron for a “happy last day of school” muffin, and nearly got hit as I turned into the neighborhood. Seconds later, a mom and her two kids made a mad dash across the street, requiring me to stop suddenly. In Fremont, cars were backed up the hill, with some trying to weave around others who were waiting to make a turn. It was crazy. I finally turned off the road, and parked on a side street.



I walked several blocks, and nearing the bakery, two police cars blocked part of the road. They were in the middle of arresting someone on the sidewalk just in front of me. I walked out into the street and made my way through the braid of cars. With each section of my journey home, this really disturbing feeling grew inside me.



At least the muffin transaction was swift. I emerged back on the street and decided to forgo wearing my hood. Who cares about getting wet amidst all this chaos? I was so uneasy. I felt my spirit pushing and struggling, like someone trying to put on a sweater that shrunk in the wash. I crossed the street as two cars nearly collided. One blasted its horn. “What the heck is going on today, Lord? Is the world ending?” I began praying and singing snippets of songs about how much I like God. It felt forced, but I continued, thinking, “If evil crap is having a heyday, then I’m going to stand up for God's side.”



Nearing my car, there was a young boy walking in front of me, struggling. He had a guitar case strapped to his back and was lugging an amp about half his height. A camouflage hoodie shielded his face, but as I stopped my singing, I heard little sobs escaping.



“Hey,” I said.

He looked surprised and sucked in a shaky breath, quickly composing himself.

“Do you need help?”

“No. I got it.”

“Can I pray for you?”

“No.”



I felt like an idiot. What did I think I was going to do? Have a prayer meeting with this kid on the sidewalk? Without thinking much about it, I reached out and took the amp from him.



“I’ll walk a few blocks with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

So, we walked in the rain, a long stream of cars creeping beside us. It was his last day of school too. Just finished fourth grade. “Me too,” I said.



All the yucky muck of the hours before suddenly quieted and I was sheltered in this peaceful bubble of fourth grade chatter. He took up his load again as we parted ways. I walked back to my car in awe of God.



I wish I could tell you the lesson in all this. I don’t think I know. I almost ran into another car driving home. But, I know God is with us. And I know He is good. I love how He ushers us into His sweet presence in the most unexpected ways.

My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty,

I do not concern myself with great matters

or things too wonderful for me.

But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child, I am content.

 

Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore.

 

Psalm 131