Hopping out of the Ordinary

   I just had quite the emotional day! It started out on a hilarious note. Well, I guess if I am going back to the beginning, it started on a sleepy note. I did not want to wake up for Saturday school! Then it turned hilarious when I got to school. One of my boys said, "Miss Holly, can you please take care of this cockroach?" It was on its back by his desk, but still at least partly alive. I said sure and grabbed the trash can. I looked around for something to use to push it into the bin. I decided upon my student's pencil. The problem started when my pencil flick missed the trash can and put the little guy back on his feet. Apparently he had more life left in him than we thought because he started to run right up my foot!
     My formerly calm state vanished as I jumped around and made soft squeals. I proceeded to shake my leg like crazy and the little roach went sailing through the air and landed right in an innocent bystander's backpack as he was leisurely unpacking. I mean it landed RIGHT in the open pouch! I watched as my student stared at it, moved around quickly, but was unable to decide just what to do. Suddenly he grabbed the backpack, flipped it upside down, and ferociously shook it. Out tumbled the roach, on his feet again. It started scurrying around the floor, among the pencils, erasers, and pieces of trash that had also fallen out of the backpack. By this time all the surrounding students were screeching. Backpack boy heroically snapped into action and powerfully stomped the roach to his death, all while still sitting in his seat.
    At this point I sent a student to get a broom to sweep the pancake roach into the trash. Before he could get back however, another brave little hero carefully picked up the remains of the roach by one of its antennas. He triumphantly, and yet casually, walked to the trash bin and plopped the deceased roach inside. What a way to start the morning!
    The next great event happened during Bangla time. My students were settled into their Bangla lesson, with the Bangla teacher, and I had just sat down at my desk to start grading papers. All of a sudden, the fire alarm went off! They quickly formed a number order line. They moved like a well oiled machine. I scooped up my clipboard and glanced over fire drill procedures as I headed to the front of the line. We waited for our turn to enter the procession of students filing down the narrow stairway. A thick quietness engulfed the hallway. Then, it was shattered by the giggles and whispers of my class! This is where the anger of the day enters the scene. I gave them my best teacher glare and told them I didn’t want to hear a peep! After that they were angels.
    The school day finally came to an end as I waved goodbye to my last student. I stayed for a few extra hours to grade papers, plan, and organize. Then it was time to start my next adventure. Meagan was going to a birthday party, so it was up to me to walk myself home. No big deal, I only had to cross the insane “highway”, walk through the dump, make my way along the maze of a path home, and make a few stops along the way. I asked God to go before me and help me get across the biggest road. Huge buses, rickshaws, speedy CNGs, and cars whizzed by. Then I saw my opening and dashed across the first half of the road. I stood on the meridian and waited for my second opening to make it the rest of the way.
    I noticed a Bangladeshi man preparing to cross ahead of me. I was quite pleased because when there are nationals I simply stand a little too close for comfort and walk exactly when they do. Much to my dismay, the man started walking toward me, and then past me. I was on my own. No openings emerged so I waited a minute. I glanced behind me and there the man was! He was going to cross behind me so I would get hit, not him! Not to worry, I worked my expert skills, meaning God made an opening for me, and I scurried the rest of the way across the road.
    I made my way to the shopping building where I wanted to exchange a dvd that didn’t work. After a few minutes of riding escalators, I reached the shop. I love those men! They are always so sweet and helpful. They make me feel like a very important person. The exchange was made with no problems, and I was on my way again.
    As I approached the second escalator, the young man in front of my paused. I stopped to let him get on his stair first, then I waited to let a few stairs emerge between us, and I hopped on my own stair. My careful planning was thwarted as the young man turned around and asked me if I was British. He proceeded to ask me several questions as he followed me out of the building. I tried to politely, but shortly, answer him. He asked if we could, “make friendship”. With a smile, I said no. Realizing he was going to be persistent, I approached a rickshaw driver to take me the next stretch of my journey. The rickshaw driver said he didn’t want to go in the direction I was headed. It didn’t bother me though because the only reason I asked was to escape the man. So, I began walking again.
    My next stop was at the tailor’s. I zig-zagged my way through the building and staircases to reach my tailor’s shop. He smiled as I greeted him with the cultural greeting. He was actually in the middle of working on one of my outfits. He packaged up my pieces that were done and asked me to wait five minutes so he could make one more sewing addition to the sari tops. When he arrived with the sewn blouses, he began ironing them in preparation to give them to me. It was at this moment that I realized I have been ironing wrong my whole life. He slams the iron down on the fabric with spirit and then proceeds to press out the wrinkles. The trick seems to be the powerful slam because he repeated it many times. He gave me my items and I completed my trek home.
     God has a way of turning ordinary moments into grand theatrics. I never know who or what will enter the stage next. His little blessings pile up so quickly that they tumble over and flood my life with joy. Whenever I have a challenging day I need to take a breath and count my blessings. They surely do pour down like rain, and this time of year, that is saying something in Bangladesh.