Right Here In My Church
Stories
Shining Moments
Visions Of The Holy In Ordinary Lives
April McClure Stewart
He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly. (vv. 51-52)
I first met Brayden when he was nine years old. He was a fourth grader at the elementary school across the street from the church. The minute he appeared in my Bible study class at the mid-week program we had at the church, I branded him "troublemaker." Within thirty seconds of entering the room he had pulled a chair out from under a girl, punched the only other boy in the class in the arm, and used a four-letter word that was definitely not appropriate for church.
After the Bible study, I pulled aside the minister and asked her for the details about Brayden. His father was in jail for the third time. His mother had abused him and was not allowed to see him. He was living with a grandmother who worked second shift and the woman who provided him childcare was not available until 6:00 p.m. The reason he was in our program was because the principal at the grade school, an occasional attender of the church, had heard that our program did not finish until 7:30. That meant that at least one night a week, Brayden would not be on his own for three hours, getting into trouble.
It was not an easy thing to have Brayden in class. He was constantly changing the subject to talk about things that he had heard about girls from his twenty-year-old uncle -- hardly the type of things we would normally be discussing in class; or he would tell stories he had heard about his father. He was also antsy. He liked to move around and he liked to bother the girls. He especially liked to bother the girls by moving them -- seizing their chairs and hurling them to the ground. To combat this problem, Brayden sat right next to me, and I had him do things like help with passing out papers when he behaved himself. We also devised a system where he would go stand by the door if he felt himself getting angry. That worked some of the time, but many times he would get angry anyway, and when that happened he would call other people names, insult them as badly as he could, and it would always end with him, and at least one more child, crying. I resented him for it.
My Bible study was not the only time that Brayden acted up. In recreation he would hit and pinch people. During music, he goofed around and carried on conversations entirely separate from the task at hand. During mealtime, he was an absolute terror, throwing food, spitting at people, and making the little kids cry. Our program team had what seemed like weekly meetings about him, and didn't know what to do. We tried talking to him, calling his grandmother, asking for volunteers to accompany him at all times. We tried to explain what "church" behavior was and we put up "no running" signs in that hallway. We had lengthy discussions in our Bible study about what subjects were and were not appropriate in church. As a team, we adults rolled our eyes, sighed, and moaned about having to accommodate Brayden. I think we all secretly hoped his grandmother would take him to another babysitter or that he would not come back the next Wednesday. I know I did.
But there was no such luck for us. The rest of the kids missed an occasional Wednesday. Some got sick, some had other things to do every once in a while, but not Brayden. He was there every single Wednesday, and he was always at the same energy level -- extremely high. As time went by, I became more and more frustrated. It seemed that I was always correcting and disciplining Brayden, and quite frankly, I wanted the whole thing to go away.
Sometime in March, after about seven months of meeting every Wednesday, Brayden started giving me a hug when he left for the evening with his babysitter. One day, I saw him in the grocery store, and he ran up to me and pulled me over to meet his grandmother, who was one of the cashiers. He bragged, "This is my teacher at my church." I told the minister about it and she reported that the same thing happened to her. Another woman, who was his substitute teacher at the grade school, reported that Brayden had introduced her to the class on a day she subbed saying, "Mrs. Andrews goes to my church with me on Wednesday nights."
One day, toward the end of the school year, we were discussing hospitality in class. I asked the kids to think about a place where they felt most secure -- most at home. Some said their bedrooms, or outside at their houses. One kid said the playroom at his grandpa's house. When it came to Brayden, he said, "Man, I've lived in a million places." We all laughed and waited for him to go on. "You mean the place where we feel happy and safe?" he asked, and I said, "Yes." "Oh," he said, matter-of-factly, "that's right here in my church."
Right here in his church. Right here in my church. Right here where I had not wanted him to be.
He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly. (vv. 51-52)
I first met Brayden when he was nine years old. He was a fourth grader at the elementary school across the street from the church. The minute he appeared in my Bible study class at the mid-week program we had at the church, I branded him "troublemaker." Within thirty seconds of entering the room he had pulled a chair out from under a girl, punched the only other boy in the class in the arm, and used a four-letter word that was definitely not appropriate for church.
After the Bible study, I pulled aside the minister and asked her for the details about Brayden. His father was in jail for the third time. His mother had abused him and was not allowed to see him. He was living with a grandmother who worked second shift and the woman who provided him childcare was not available until 6:00 p.m. The reason he was in our program was because the principal at the grade school, an occasional attender of the church, had heard that our program did not finish until 7:30. That meant that at least one night a week, Brayden would not be on his own for three hours, getting into trouble.
It was not an easy thing to have Brayden in class. He was constantly changing the subject to talk about things that he had heard about girls from his twenty-year-old uncle -- hardly the type of things we would normally be discussing in class; or he would tell stories he had heard about his father. He was also antsy. He liked to move around and he liked to bother the girls. He especially liked to bother the girls by moving them -- seizing their chairs and hurling them to the ground. To combat this problem, Brayden sat right next to me, and I had him do things like help with passing out papers when he behaved himself. We also devised a system where he would go stand by the door if he felt himself getting angry. That worked some of the time, but many times he would get angry anyway, and when that happened he would call other people names, insult them as badly as he could, and it would always end with him, and at least one more child, crying. I resented him for it.
My Bible study was not the only time that Brayden acted up. In recreation he would hit and pinch people. During music, he goofed around and carried on conversations entirely separate from the task at hand. During mealtime, he was an absolute terror, throwing food, spitting at people, and making the little kids cry. Our program team had what seemed like weekly meetings about him, and didn't know what to do. We tried talking to him, calling his grandmother, asking for volunteers to accompany him at all times. We tried to explain what "church" behavior was and we put up "no running" signs in that hallway. We had lengthy discussions in our Bible study about what subjects were and were not appropriate in church. As a team, we adults rolled our eyes, sighed, and moaned about having to accommodate Brayden. I think we all secretly hoped his grandmother would take him to another babysitter or that he would not come back the next Wednesday. I know I did.
But there was no such luck for us. The rest of the kids missed an occasional Wednesday. Some got sick, some had other things to do every once in a while, but not Brayden. He was there every single Wednesday, and he was always at the same energy level -- extremely high. As time went by, I became more and more frustrated. It seemed that I was always correcting and disciplining Brayden, and quite frankly, I wanted the whole thing to go away.
Sometime in March, after about seven months of meeting every Wednesday, Brayden started giving me a hug when he left for the evening with his babysitter. One day, I saw him in the grocery store, and he ran up to me and pulled me over to meet his grandmother, who was one of the cashiers. He bragged, "This is my teacher at my church." I told the minister about it and she reported that the same thing happened to her. Another woman, who was his substitute teacher at the grade school, reported that Brayden had introduced her to the class on a day she subbed saying, "Mrs. Andrews goes to my church with me on Wednesday nights."
One day, toward the end of the school year, we were discussing hospitality in class. I asked the kids to think about a place where they felt most secure -- most at home. Some said their bedrooms, or outside at their houses. One kid said the playroom at his grandpa's house. When it came to Brayden, he said, "Man, I've lived in a million places." We all laughed and waited for him to go on. "You mean the place where we feel happy and safe?" he asked, and I said, "Yes." "Oh," he said, matter-of-factly, "that's right here in my church."
Right here in his church. Right here in my church. Right here where I had not wanted him to be.
