Gratitude

There are days when I think that wanting to be a writer is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever had. There are days where all of the hours spent interviewing/researching/writing one article that I'll only get paid maybe $50 for, don't seem worth it. There are days where my greatest fear is that no one actually reads anything that I write, or if they do, they don't care about my words and walk away from them unchanged and uninfluenced.

But every once in awhile I have a day that reminds me so strongly of why I do what I do. I am reminded that I really am making a difference.

For the past several months I have taught a writing class one morning a week to some 4th graders at one of the local elementary schools. There were only 5 students and I had a meager 30 minutes to instill in them some passion for writing. Most days I left feeling like all I had done was baby-sit some kids for a few minutes before school started. I felt certain that not only were my skills as a teacher lacking, but that it was hopeless to try and install a love for writing in kids that would rather be playing outside. My last class was a few weeks ago, and I honestly felt relieved. My kids had started dropping out from coming anyways so it seemed like it was time to be done. I had tried my best but I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything.

Then last week as I was leaving church I turned around to see one of my students, Madison, walking towards me with who I presumed was her mother. Her mom said that they had something to give me in their car. Apparently Madison had meant to give it to me at my last class but there was some confusion as to the date of the last class and she missed giving it to me. Madison and her mom went out to their car and came back in. Madison handed me a slip of paper with a poem written on it and a Starbucks gift card attached. It was her way of saying thank you for all I had done in the writing class. Her mother told me that Madison just loved me and was sad that there wouldn't be class anymore.

It was one of the few moments in my life where I was left nearly speechless. It was such a small gesture of gratitude, but it meant the world to me. It was recognition that I had made a difference, even if it was only to young Maddie. And the best part was that the gift included a poem she had written just for me. This left me knowing that Maddie did love writing and would continue to write with or without me giving her assignments each week. Passing on my love and passion for writing to someone, especially a child, is one of the only gifts I could ever ask for in return for the work I do.

One of the hardest parts about life, I think, is to find one's calling in life. While the discovery of it is possible for anyone, not everyone finds it. But even after finding it, one then has to find a way to make a difference in the world with it. To find a way to leave a lasting mark on the world through your calling. While I am still struggling to find out how to leave my unique mark, my gift from Maddie was a firm reminder that I am on the right path.