Let them never forget the imperative to tend to the needs of the children of the world, and offer them lessons that develop their spiritual faculties and lay the foundations of a noble and upright character.
Universal House of Justice, 20 October 2008
We stopped teaching our children’s classes immediately after returning from Trinidad. It may seem like a strange course of action, as part of the reason we’re here is to help establish and promote these classes…but the main reason we’re in Dominica, as articulated by the Universal House of Justice in the 2010 Ridván Message is to help “raise capacity within a population to take charge of its own spiritual, social and intellectual development.”
That time and energy we spent preparing for and teaching those children’s classes, we realized, could be much better spent training and accompanying children’s class teachers. Pretty obvious, right?
There is a Great Law of the Universe called “Ask and Ye Shall Receive”…and I guess I need constant reminders that—in this earthly experience—it’s as dependable as the law of gravity (provided we’re not asking for something that will impede our, or others’, development). Predictably, once we started focusing our prayers and efforts in the direction of finding children’s class teachers, two of them dropped from the sky…and are now bringing more vim, vigor, and creativity to the St. Cyr class than we ever could have hoped for.
So the St. Cyr classes were covered. But the Gaulette River and Mahaut (pronounced Mah-HO) River kids remained teacher-less. Nothing appeared to be resulting from our increased searching and supplications, and we began to question the reliability of the Great Law of the Universe. But then, last week, I took a walk down to Mahaut River to buy some current from Mr. Paul’s wholesale shop (light here, like cell phone credit, is pay-as-you-go, and our meter had reached zero two nights before. Another Great Law of the Universe, which I’m sure we’re all well familiar with, is its Omnipresent Sense of Humor…which dictates that our current always seems to run out on a Friday night. This wouldn’t be a problem, except that Mr. Paul is a 7th-Day Adventist, and—Saturday being his Sabbath—the wholesale shop is closed. It also happens to be the only place to buy current in the Carib Territory).
Anyhow. It must’ve been a Sunday morning, as I walked down the Mahaut River stretch of the Carib Territory Road, when 9-year-old Daniela (known by the neighborhood kids as Tu-Tu) came running up to me. “Den-Den!” she called. “It have children’s class this week?” I sighed. These conversations made my heart heavy, and I felt so tempted to just re-start that class myself. There are few things worse than disappointing a child.
“Sweetie,” I began, “the classes are on hold for a while, remember?”
Tu-Tu tilted her head. “Why?”
Deep breath. “Well…we have to find someone who will be able to keep teaching the class when Roushy and I leave next year…and, uh, we haven’t found anyone yet.” In effort to end the conversation, I handed Tu-Tu a piece of chewing gum (as if this would make up for the lack of a children’s class) and moved towards Mr. Paul’s shop. But Tu-Tu stayed rooted to the spot, just looking at me. She suddenly nodded decisively, took my hand, and said “Let’s go talk to my sister. She’ll teach the class.”
Her sister?
Minutes later, I found myself walking across an overgrown lawn and standing on the doorstep of a small concrete home. A makeshift swing hung from the guava tree beside us, and the yard was strewn with fallen leaves and pieces of garbage. Somehow, I’d never noticed this house before. “Jessy!” Tu-Tu hollered. “Thewhitelady is here to talk to you about a children’s class!” (I am known by one of two names in Dominica: Den-Den or Whitelady).
Soon Jessy—a very young mother with a toddler on her hip—appeared in the doorway, looking distracted. We’d exchanged hellos in passing, I realized, but I had never learned her name. “Hi,” I said awkwardly. “Uh, Daniela thought you might be interested in teaching a children’s class?” Jessy looked at her sister quizzically, and I rushed to offer a flustered explanation of the children’s class program. She listened patiently, but I couldn’t help but feel I was disturbing her/that she had too much else to worry about/that my very presence was a burden. All those doubts that creep in no matter how many times they’ve been proven specious. So, in the very same breath as inviting her to teach the class, I made an excuse for her not teaching. I don’t remember my exact words, but it was probably something like “Well-it-would-be-great-if-you-could-teach-but-I-know-you’re-probably-really-busy…” Eeeesh.
But Jessy smiled. “Sure, I’ll teach the class,” she said.
“Y-you will?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “Why not?” Yes, Den-Den, why not? Are your own prejudices and fears preventing you from recognizing the capacity in this young woman because she’s a teenage mother? Are you worried that the accompaniment process would be too slow and laborious? Well, sorry, Whitelady. You’re not getting out of this one so easily.
We arranged to meet the next day to plan and prepare for the class, which could be held, Jessy said, every Tuesday afternoon. But I was skeptical. I thought she’d probably just agreed out of politeness (and because we’d sort of ambushed her), and half-expected her to forget all about our meeting on Monday. Oh, me of little faith.
As I made my way to Jessy’s the following afternoon, an elderly couple sitting by the road greeted me. “Good afternoon!” they called. “Are you going to Jessy’s to prepare for the class?” Um, yes. Wait—how do they know? Sure, in the Carib Territory everyone knows everything about everyone else, but I still wasn’t prepared for this children’s class idea to be taken seriously. Huh. I guess this meant Jessy hadn’t forgotten after all.
Although there’s only one road here, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn when I reached Jessy’s home. There was the little concrete house, there was the guava tree with the rickety swing…but the yard had been transformed. The piles of litter were picked up, the grass and brambles had been cut, and every stray leaf had been removed from the lawn. Tu-Tu, Jessy, and another young woman I vaguely recognized were seated on the stoop. Tu-Tu jumped up when she saw me. “We’ve been waiting for you!” she exclaimed. The sisters introduced me to their cousin, Chris, who, they explained, lived next door and would be helping with the class. And who, it turns out, is a natural teacher. After we’d studied some excerpts from Ruhi Book Three, “Teaching Spiritual Education Classes for Children,” and planned out the first lesson, Chris started brainstorming. “Why don’t we invite all the parents to a celebration when we finish all the lessons?” she suggested. “The kids could recite all the prayers and quotes they learned, and could perform little skits for their families.” Uh, yeah. That sounds absolutely fantastic. “I’m gonna practice telling this story over and over,” she added, “because we have to tell it in such a way that it doesn’t put them to sleep. We need to make sure they really understand the main idea, no true?” True. True indeed. My goodness gracious.
I walked home in an incredulous daze. Where on earth did these two champions come from? Oh yeah: right down the road. They were there all along. How many other potential community-builders, I wondered, have we overlooked? A voice from across the road shook me from my thoughts. “Excuse me, Miss?” I turned, and rolled my eyes. It was a group of young men from the neighborhood, many of whom were notoriously troublesome, and I’d long since lost patience with their antics and cat-calling. I ignored them, and kept walking. I am deplorably far from attaining the station called for in the Bahá’í Writings, that of letting our hearts burn with loving-kindness for all who cross our path. I heard one of those troublemakers run up behind me, and this time I spun around. The fire in my eyes was not one of loving-kindness, and the poor young man sensed it. He stopped in his tracks, and blushed. “Sorry,” he stammered. “Sorry to bother you. I…I just wanted to know if the yard was okay?”
“What?” I asked, totally confused.
“The yard,” he said softly. “I…well…Jessy is my girlfriend. She told me about the children’s class tomorrow, and asked me to make the yard look nice. So I took the day off work today to clean it up. Does it look alright?”
I wanted to die of shame. Of shame, or of a bursting heart—unable to bear the enormity of the love I felt at that moment for Jessy, for Chris, for Tu-Tu, for this young father who’d sacrificed a day’s wages to beautify the yard, for the Great Laws of the Universe…and for the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, reminding us that in each and every human being lie “gems of inestimable value.”
I guess some of us just need constant reminders.
*Tu-Tu is pictured, on the right, in the photograph above.
Nothing like a reminder that He knows what He is doing.
Much love from Portland.
Thanks for this lovely story!!! It is indeed a good reminder, and so eloquently written.
Den den, you are AMAZING! An amazing story teller and adventurer. What an inspirational post! I am so proud to know you. I love you so much! And I love all of these beautiful souls in your stories too! Please give all of them my love.
Beautiful story, Denali. Thank you for sharing! Much love & prayer!
Wow this is such a wonderful story and you relay it beautifully.
Thank you, Denali.
Praise be to God.
Mashallah! Well done! A thousand times well done! Sharing this experience exactly in this way makes it feel so much more attainable in our little pocket of the cluster. Thank you! I’m going to go visit our students now and ask them for suggestions. Lots of love to you you radiant star!
This is so beautiful. Ya Baha’ul’Abha!
Much love from China (where NABI ultimately inspired me to sporadically pioneer). You have been in my prayers in the hogans, and now you’ll be in my prayers in the banyan groves.
Keep on writing, you are really touching hearts with this blog.
[…] DenDen and friends “raise capacity within a population to take charge of its own spiritual, so… […]
Thanks so much for the encouraging words, friends. These comments really help keep my motivation up, especially when Wednesday night rolls around and I find myself wondering, “Do I REALLY need to post every single week…? I mean, no one would miss it if I skipped a Thursday, would they?” 😉
What a WONDERFUL story! Thank you so much for sharing!!!!!