Logos Adieu

I walked out the front door of Logos School for the last time, yesterday.  As a secretary, that is.  Feels like stepping off a twenty foot cliff. 

I see another cliff on the horizon. Intuition tells me that the next one will be 100 feet, but this one feels high enough.

What a rare and blessed privilege has been mine to work among these teachers, chidren, administrators, support staff and families.  As I leave, the annual teacher training is occuring:  people coming from all over the country (and in some years, around the world) to learn to implement the classical Christian education model.  These people will meet “my” people and take away valuable information and fond memories.

As a privileged insider, I’m taking something so deep that I don’t know if I can put it into words.  Superficially, these look like godly Christian people.  And that’s correct.   Like saying stars twinkle.

Like only seeing the surface of the moon through a telescope.

I’m taking the fearful prospect of a recurrence of cancer.  I’m taking the grief of  losing a mother suddenly.  I’m taking the giddiness of learning of a pregnancy and the sadness of a miscarriage.  I’m taking the grievous expulsion for blatant disobedience and the lovliness of diligent scholarship attended by godliness. 

 I’m taking the daily observation of three and four generations of Christians, working with and for each other.  I’m taking the juniors’ and seniors’ brotherly interaction with the first and second graders–I’m taking a family, learning together and caring for one another. 

I’m taking mental portraits of highly qualified teachers who come back year after year after year–who could have far more lucrative positions if they taught publicly.  I’m taking the fear and grief of a sixth grade boy waiting outside the principal’s office……and emerging twenty minutes later, face shining with tears and a new resolve to do better.   I’m taking mothers planning their daughters’ weddings, sending their sons off to the military, wondering if this child will get a job or this will finish school or that will return from the brink.

I’m taking snakes and frogs and rocks and crayon pictures with hearts and princesses.  I’m taking broken arms and inhalers and epipens and tums and band aids with smiley faces.  I’m taking bake sales and plays and speeches.  I’m taking lacrosse games in bitter spring afternoons, slam dunks in the field house, perfect volleyball assists.  I’m taking Mock Trial and a personal letter from Judge Clarence Thomas. 

I’m taking tears and anxiety and pride and raucous laughter.  I’m taking love.  Lots and lots of love.

Above all, I’m taking each individual’s humble, gracious, fun-loving, God-fearing response to every actual life event.   I’m taking the fervent prayers.  This is beautiful beyond description.

And it was all there for me to mine day by day.  Now, by God’s mercy, I’ll also be growing like them, watered and nurtured by all I’m privileged to take away.

Thank you, Logos.  God’s continued blessings, always.

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