His crying started before I had even reached the end of our street. I resolved to steel myself against his tears, knowing that what I was doing was the best choice, and wishing he was old enough to understand my reasoning. I turned up the music in hopes of lulling him out of his distressed state. Despite the soothing strains pumping through the stereo and me trying to assure him in my best reasoning voice, his cries and pleas to turn around and go home continued. It was in that moment, as tears prickled behind my eyelids, I wondered if I was really cut out for this whole concept of parenting. By the time we had reached the freeway, Sam and I were both crying and the music was only becoming the soundtrack to our sad exchange.
You see, Sam was the lobster I had just picked up from the supermarket and was transporting to my class today. Although I might be exaggerating on the crying, I did try to soothe Sam with some music on my way to the church as I told him that his life had a great purpose. He wasn’t just going to be eaten, instead he was going to be a project lesson to the kids about what God created on the fifth day, and then he was going to be boiled and eaten. Somehow this did not seem to comfort him, and although I can’t be positive, I am pretty sure I heard cries for help while I was driving into the city.
Despite feeling rather guilty that I had hauled a lobster out of his lobster tank and away from all his friends, I was pretty excited to be bringing a live lobster to class today, and couldn’t wait to see the kid’s reactions. It was day five of creation, and on that day God created birds, fish and all that lived in the sea. So Sam was going to help drive the point home and hopefully make the lesson stick in their heads. As I sang to Sam on the drive down (that could explain his cries for help) I couldn’t help but look forward to the day ahead.
I think God wanted to give me a reality check this week after last week’s great success. Instead of starting only 10 minutes late, we started over an hour late today. Liberian timing was in full swing. The children arrived wired and ready to go after sitting in the van for an extended period of time while picking everyone up. Due to the time, I had to start the lesson right away. Things started off well, and Sam was a big hit. Thankfully he was still alive and kicking, which provided much entertainment as the children examined him. Point made. Thinking that the children would have pity on Sam, I asked them to put him in the fridge and we could move on. They instead wanted me to kill him and cook him right there so they could eat him. I told them they were heartless; but no mercy for poor Sam. Thankfully I didn’t have the supplies to actually pull this off. I’ve never cooked a lobster before, and I can only picture a Julie & Julia moment if I try.
About halfway through the lesson, things started to unravel a little. Nine children bouncing off the walls, myself trying to teach as well as discipline, and you get the picture. I think my lesson would have ended on a rather frustrated note if it weren’t for little Faith (pictured with me above) who wrote on the board that I was the best teacher in the world and that she loved me. Her constant hugs and praise ended my day on a happy note.
I came home and put Sam in the fridge, where he awaits my first attempt at cooking a lobster. May he rest in peace knowing that his life had a greater purpose then just to be eaten.
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