may 2008 newsletter...
We've all seen war movies like Braveheart or Lord of the Rings; movies with long and dramatic
battle sequences. There's the pregnant-and-anxiety-inducing pause before the battle, in which the
hero(es) deliver at least one rousing speech, followed by a rousing hurrah as the soldiers take up their
arms. Then there's the exhilaration of the charge, followed by the chaos of clanging steel, whirling
bodies, and flaming arrows/grenades/missiles. Finally, there's the lull after the battle concludes, in
which the soldiers' fighting arms sag towards the ground. We see the weary and dazed warriors
throw their arms around each other and stumble off into the grey and usually misty dawn.
My last week at Whitefield felt like these final moments of a battle. For eight years, I've
been caught up in fighting to mold the minds and hearts of eager (and not-so-eager) Whitefield
teenagers. The educator Parker Palmer says that, 'To teach is to create a space where obedience to
Truth can be practiced.' Trust me, creating that space involves waging war. This is the ground we
teachers fight to claim and the battle exhausts us. In an America that loudly proclaims the equal
value of every voice, it's tough to train a young mind to identify Truth, let alone obey it. Take the
Truth proclaimed by Isaiah, for example, that calls us to free those who are wrongly imprisoned, to
stop oppressing those who work for us, to share our food with the hungry, and to clothe the naked. In the history classroom, where issues of citizenship arise on almost a daily basis, my students and I must fight to establish the space to obey and apply these difficult mandates.
In the last few days, I felt like a soldier coming out of a daze, looking around at my fellow
warriors and marking their wounds, newly appreciating the protection and inspiration they have
offered me. I've been so privileged. Fellow teachers have taught me how to use words, how to mold
writing, how to train thinking, how to administer justice. In my preparations to leave for India, I
hadn't taken into account that my colleagues wouldn?t be coming with me. It's as if our general rode
up after the battle, in that movie grey dawn, and informed me that I'd be moving on to a different
theatre of war. True, new comrades await me, and we'll all still be fighting on the same side, but I
can't fathom how anyone will fill the spaces created by those I now leave. I'm excited about new
adventures, but the farewells have sobered me. Appropriately, I hope.
I have a month left before I charge into the next long battle. I'm in that pregnant-and-anxiety-
inducing pause again, wondering if I have the strength to fight, hoping I'll have time to
sharpen my weapons with some serious reading, planning, thinking, and prayer. I'm spending as
much time as possible with family and friends. The whirlwind of packing and moving commences.
Feel free, you heroes, to offer me a rousing and inspirational speech!
Many have asked about my finances: They?re coming along slowly, but I?m not worried.
So far, every time an expense has come up, the money has been there to take care of it. I do have all
I need to leave on July 1st (about 50% of the total amount). I recently read the story in Matthew 17,
of Peter and the question of money to pay taxes. Jesus told him to go fishing. He told Peter to pay
the tax with the coin he found in the mouth of the first fish he caught. Crazy, hm?! All the money
in the world belongs to God. He can meet my needs, and even send me a fish, if necessary. I do
thank you all profoundly. I?m humbled by your generosity to me and concern for me.
Your fellow pilgrim,
Amy