Daily Lesson for February 3, 2016

Last week I walked into Reginae's classroom with a special surprise tucked beneath my arm. "Guess what I've got," I said.

Reginae is in fourth grade and has been my Kids Hope Kid for three years now. Her older brother Reginald was my Kids Hope Kid the prior three before he graduated on to middle school. Kids Hope is about one mentor and one kid at one single school for one hour a week. After awhile the single hours add up; but to how much only God really knows. That's where faith comes in. Every hour put in by every one of our 20 mentors in Reginae's school is an act of faith.  For faith, we are told by the Apostle Paul, is the "substance of things hoped for."

This year Reginae and I have been reading Ruby Bridges's memoir "Through My Eyes".  It is her remembrance of the 1960 school year, when as a kindergartener she was the first black child to attend an all-white public school in New Orleans.   Earlier in the year I had been asked by Reginae's teacher to help her with reading and comprehension. She chose "Through My Eyes" and page by page we have read together about Ruby's courage, poise and determination as she saw with her own eyes that giant new school with the giant and angry crowds outside and walked little step by little step up the steps into her new world. Reginae and I have talked about what courage Ruby's parents must also have had to allow their daughter to be the first to integrate the schools, and what character was demonstrated by Ruby's teacher and some of the public officials, ministers and other supporters who helped her and her family along the way.

We have read and re-read word by word and line by line and I have been amazed at Reginae's progress.  "Let the punctuation do its work."  "Breath for the sense of the meaning."  "What's that word again?"  Half a school year on the same book has paid off hour by hour, week by week. Reginae can read; and she can not only read but she also understands.

Then at church two weeks ago, in the sanctuary just before worship a woman grabs my arm. She is somewhat new to the church and new to Lubbock. She moved here to be close to her children because as she pushes against a terminal diagnosis.  I look down at what she is holding in her hand. It's Ruby Bridges's book -- a signed copy. "I heard you were reading this with your little girl. I want her to have it."

I wondered if Reginae was ready for the book. Would she appreciate it?  Would she understand the meaning?  Someone else suggested I give it to my own daughter instead. But no, I decided. This book is for Reginae. It's meant for her.

We walk into the Kids Hope room with my surprise is still tucked beneath my arm. I am surrounded by such amazing things going on. One of our other mentors is using his architectural training to teach his Kids Hope Kid how to draft designs for a house. The little boy wants to be an architect and has started with his dream home -- the jacuzzi room is at the center and by far the largest room in the house. Another mentor is studying vocabulary words with her kid. Still another is playing charades.  I get everyone else's attention. "I have something to give to Reginae that a nice lady from my church wanted her to have."

I pull out my surprise. "You ready to start reading?"  "Yes."  "Let's back up a little. How about back to the cover page."  Reginae looks at me with an "Are your crazy?" look.  It's taken us half a year to get as far as we've gotten and now I want to start over?  "Just turn to the cover page."  "Through My Eyes," I say, "by -- what does that say?  The words on the bottom in cursive?"  "Ruby Bridges," Reginae says. She reads it ; and she understands it. "A signed copy -- for you."  "For me?"  "For you."

We read for another hour together and at the end of the time I walk Reginae back to her classroom. After dropping her off, I stand outside and watch and wonder what if anything she will do with the book. Reginae starts for her seat, but then turns toward her teacher's desk.  She presents the book to her teacher and turns presumably to the cover page. "How wonderful!" I hear her teacher say.

How wonderful indeed.