I originally wrote this in April 2014. At the time, I was working in my hometown at a small local nonprofit. Housed in a church, it was the only free after-school program in the Valley. We provided after-school care for 30 upper elementary school and middle school students, many of whom were first-generation immigrants to the US.
Of course, that job fit right in with my personality and love of different cultures. I loved (almost) every minute, and I learned so much from my students. Although not a one time occurrence, this moment in particular stuck out to me.
I work with international students, which often brings the idea of community to the forefront of my mind. Currently, out of my almost 30 students, one-third are from outside the borders of the US. (This is, by far, my favorite job related statistic.)
This year’s students come from six countries – Vietnam, Nepal, Burma, Tanzania, Mexico, and the United States. Almost all face financial hardship.
This week, slightly warmer temperatures give my students some much needed time running around outside. Watching them interact with each other reminds me of how little this fact matters – the statistics of where their families are from. Culture and its effect on our individual identities are not something to ignore. But it also doesn’t have to put a rift in our communities.
The Table of Nations
It’s an unseasonably warm day for early April, in the 70s. The kind of day that begs you to kick off your shoes and soak up the sun. Students, freshly released from buses, run down the hill, full speed ahead. I hear the slap of sandals and laughter as they run.
Like most other days, a group of five girls comes together. One finds a shady spot within the crawling tube of the playground while the others sit on the landing or the stairs, each claiming their spot.
Various items appear from backpacks – a plastic grocery bag, packages of dried ramen noodles, drinks, and other treats from home. The noodles, crushed and dumped, sit atop the spread out plastic bag. And, once thanks is (loudly but so sweetly) offered, fingers dig in. Laughter and snacks are shared.
A View of Eternity
In these moments, it’s clear I’m getting a glimpse of the world as it should be.
Each of these girls is from a different country. No one speaks the same first language, no one shares memories of a country left behind. Everyone is from “somewhere else.”
Despite differences, sharing comes more naturally to these students than it does to many who share a backyard. There is never the idea of withholding – good things are for sharing. Even hard earned money, always in short supply, is readily given to support others.
Despite their differences, these students in particular seem to have a way of connecting through their similarities. What’s more, their differences are something to celebrate and learn from. A balance many adults I know have not perfected.
That’s not to say that my students are perfect – they still have their moments when life isn’t so peachy and sharing isn’t so easy. But more often than not, they come together and participate in community in a way that makes me stop and take notice.
Seeing these girls together is a reminder of how life is supposed to be lived. Sharing food, sharing life, and celebrating who we are as individuals.
And I [the LORD], because of what they have planned and done, am about to come and gather the people of all nations and languages, and they will come and see my glory. – Isaiah 66:18
