Remembering Her

Did I fall into her heart, or did she fall into mine? I don’t remember that part.

The first time I met her, she glanced shyly at me with a half-scared, wild look in her eyes. I smiled and she half-grinned and started rifling through her desk, every movement a nervous twitch.

We were introduced and she had barely even said hello, before we were walking hand-in-hand down the school hallway. When we got to the stairwell, I started talking. “We have our very own classroom!” I was trying to sound brave and confident, but my heart was pounding furiously. Was I capable of this?

She didn’t say much and what she did say was said in the whiny whisper of a four-year-old.

And she was nine.

If I would have known how hard the next two years of tutoring would be, I would have never started. Isn’t it curious how I’d also never change those two years, or give up the honor of knowing her?

There were lots of wild moments.

There was the day she let go of my hand in the hallway and made a half-crazed dash into the fifth and sixth grade classroom. After I pulled her out of the classroom, she wrenched away from me again and tore noisily down the hall and hid behind the corner.

I sent her home a couple of times…days where no amount of reasoning accomplished anything and she couldn’t focus and defied cooperation with an unearthly stubborn streak.

Her behavior could be so randomly eccentric. I can’t count the many times I had to physically stop her from hurting herself or someone else with her erratic conduct.

Before her, I didn’t know how you could feel deep compassion and toe-curling anger with the same depth simultaneously.

She made me tired. She energized me. My heart ached at the pain in her history. She charmed me, danced around my heart with fluid grace and wild beauty that slipped out in moments she forgot herself.

I miss her.

She changed my life.

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3 thoughts on “Remembering Her

  1. Hi Renee, i stumbled across your blog through another one, and when i saw this post my heart clenched. Would Deziray be Carl Weaver’s daughter? If so, she is my niece. If you’d like to connect with me personally feel free to email me at diaperswyper@gmail.com.

    I appreciate your honesty on your blog and can so relate to many of the things you write about. Except for the fact that i am 36 and the mama of 8. 🙂

    May God bless you richly as you seek Him! Darla Weaver

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