Trusted Random Male Adult

After spring break, most teachers can be heard saying, "It's all downhill from here." There's this sense that every lesson we've taught them goes by the way of pollen from a dandelion. In some sense this is true. The kids seem a bit louder, a bit more mischievous. But we as teachers lower our guards as well. We aren't the same teachers we were when it was August, when we were stricter with the rules. We smiled less. Already in my building some teacher has written the inevitable countdown of days until summer. Like the rites of passages that my fifth graders endure and partake, so thus are the ones for teachers.

Every spring my fifth graders have the puberty talk. The nurse comes in to set the standards about appropriate questions and the privacy of the room. We separate the girls from the boys. The girls get booklets and tampons (at least that what they've given them before), while the boys always receive deodorant. Once the talk is over, the kids come back to their homerooms, hiding their materials and looking down at the floor. There's typically one boy of mine who will mock the proceedings and spill the beans about what we learned, and there is usually one of my girls who does the same. 

This year the video we always watch was discarded in favor of a newer one made from Always feminine products.  The older video follows the story of a young kid who is having the "talk" with his older brother about pubic hair and the need for more showering. Another has a young boy talking with his mom about boners. Typical stuff. My students muffle their laughter when the word "penis" is uttered.

This year's video was a bit more upbeat. There's some singing and dancing. Instead of following certain characters, we have a group of kids, both girls and boys, who enthusiastically ask questions into the camera that are answered by some off-camera expert/narrator. When it comes down to the end of the session, the girls are given the advice to talk with their mothers or another trusted woman. Next a young boy comes on screen. "Who do I talk to when I have questions?" I'm thinking the first person the narrator will suggest is their father. Instead I was surprised by the answer.

Step-father.
Uncle.
Grandpa.
Trusted Random Male Adult.

Just where are today's fathers? Did we suddenly skip a generation where fathers simply became grandfathers. Did all the fathers die, leaving behind their brothers? Were the step-dads left to pick up the messes of a broken marriage?

On the news, as the media chases the van of Hillary Clinton, presidential hopeful, I have begun to sense the next narrative of our country. It's the women's turn, they will say. More than that, the questions each side will be presented with have already been driven home. The Republican candidate are asked about abortion and attending gay marriages. Hilary's toughest question this past week was whether or not she wanted guac in her Chipotle bowl.

But herein lies the conundrum. We are getting exactly what we want, exactly what we deserve. In the time before Jesus, the Isrealites wanted a ruler, a king, like their sister nations around them. God warned them that the king would take their sons into war, take their daughters as concubines, take their first fruits as tax. No amount of reason would deny the people a king. So God gave them what they wanted--broken men, corrupt men, men whose wills were not of Gods.

Look at today. Our wills have now splintered off from God so far, they aren't even considered Satan's any longer. So many wheels in a machine, all spinning towards one inevitable conclusion--death. I hate to get so defeatist in this blog, but my death awaits too. More so because my will doesn't always coincide with God's either.

The redeeming factor in all of this is the Bible is filled with stories about men (and women) trying to go about their lives on their own. Sometimes men did not see their own qualities and asked for help when God would have simply sufficed. Moses didn't believe in himself, so God granted him Aaron. Like who needs a sidekick when God is raining down plagues? Sarah laughed at God when she was told she would have a child in her advanced age. Abraham, who probably began to doubt God's word as well, took it upon himself to lay with Hagar, his servant.

We've been telling God all along--we got this, but we have no idea what we've wrought upon ourselves. We bitch and complain about gay marriage and gay v Christian bakeries. We're so insistent on what is considered an abomination we've failed to realize all the other way we've become abominations in the eyes of the Lord. You think he's happy with how we've conducted ourselves within our own families when today's father would rather be watching tv or coaching instead of opening their son's bibles?  We moan about marriage being between a man and a woman, like God intended. But did God intend for quickie marriages in Vegas? We can click and scroll through the pictures of celebrity weddings, then scoff when their marriages end in the matter of months. We turn a blind eye when members of our own families marry for reasons that go way beyond God's best. But we're worried about gay marriage? We've lost the argument years ago.

There is a simple beauty in seeing the love of a man towards his wife. I'm sometimes stunned with the amount of love a father can give his own kids in my presence of some friends. So easy and natural to be that vessel of love that God intended. I sense love in the sounds of the men at church who decide to sing, or raise their arms in church. You know how many men stood around me without singing? Why stand before your God in mute somnambulism?

Even when I'm not at my best, the God lenses I try to see my world with don't ever go away. There's nothing I could do to have my old life back. Nor do I want it. Sometimes I try to have those old feelings, the thoughts that brought my world down when I wanted everything my way. It's the hardest thing I know to give my life over to God. If a Christian tells you otherwise, well, I'd like to hear their story. I'm not saying it's not easy to do right. Many times I want to do the right thing. Other times it's so much easier to get a second glance at the woman walking by. It's easy to take a nap and not interact with my own kids. The ease to which I try and make my life simpler is the sin itself.

This past few weeks I've been praying that God begins to change me. I need help walking that narrow path. I've made it harder because I've disconnected with some of the friends or rituals that make my life unique. Sure enough one of my students this week comes to me during library to ask me some questions. She's part of a program we have at school for leadership of which she's filling out some questions for their next meeting.

Mr. Cordova, can people change?
Mr. Cordova, how long does it take for someone to change?
Mr. Cordova, what does a person have to do in order to change?

It was Jesus in the form of a 5th grade girl, asking me the rhetorical questions I so desperately needed. You've already changed, Mr. Cordova, don't you see that?

And this week at church I got the chance to teach again in front of the junior high kids. The topic? Community. Who do we go to when the times get tough? Who are those that are willing to walk alongside us when we think God isn't able to answer our prayers? I looked around that room and found myself back at home. This is the change I have sought all along, staring right back at me.

I believe that change begins in a man's heart. I don't know how many people God will surround me with, how many students I get a chance to help find themselves. Waking up tomorrow will be the best sort of gift anyone can get. It means another chance. Another chance to live and affect the change in my own circle of influence. I can't feed 5,000 but I can listen, one person at a time.