Our Time is Limited: Making a Difference With Those Our Paths Cross

By: Payton M. Ishmael

“We don’t know how long we have with these kids,” said my principal from last year. I landed my first, official teaching job as a middle school English teacher at Glenview Christian School. Being a private school, our turnover rate was abnormally high. The desire for parents to provide their children with a competitive education increased enrollment numbers just as a shattering economy caused some to withdraw. In the weekly staff meeting, the principal always emphasized, “We don’t know how long we have these kids.”
This week has brought a whole new meaning to that. Think about all the people you meet each day; whether it’s a passing ‘hello’, a quick conversation, or an in-depth talk. If you’re like me, you think nothing of it. In reality, each of these instances has the possibility to change someone’s life.
A TCU girl was found dead in her home early in the week. At the time of writing this, an official cause of death still has not been issued. Although I do not know this student, our paths have crossed. We share common acquaintances and we have met. Her death leaves an entire organization of women wondering, “What could I have done?”
You see, comparable to the high turnover rate at the small, private, Christian school I taught at last year is the high turnover of the people who come in and out of our lives. Facing reality and coming out of the ‘bubble’ we like to live in will enlighten any one of us to think to a deeper thought of, “How can I help this person? What can I do to show this stranger that I care?”
By showing kindness and love, another person’s life could be completely changed. We’re not all-knowing. There’s no way to even fathom what other people are facing. It seems more times than not, those facing the greatest trials are those who remain the quietest. It’s important to reach out to those people, to seek out and comfort broken hearts, to encourage those feel like giving up and to love those who feel completely unlovable.

Written January 24, 2010 for House of Prayer newsletter Vol. 1 Issue 2