Little acts that show big love
by Bernhard
Bernhard, his daughter Elena and his wife
Last year, Fr. Greg Boyle came to speak at the school where I work. You might recognize his name — he’s the Jesuit priest who founded and runs Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. The mission statement on their website explains that Homeboy Industries “provides hope, training, and support to formerly gang-involved and previously incarcerated men and women” and that it allows them to “redirect their lives and become contributing members of our community. “
Homeboy industries employs hundreds of former gang members and provides essential services such as tattoo removal as well as professional and social-emotional counseling. It’s an incredible organization fueled by love and compassion.
When Fr. Boyle spoke at our school, he talked about creating a “community of kinship.” That got me thinking about the school I work at. I’ve been at this school for the past 13 years. It’s situated in a Chicago neighborhood that has a long history of gang activity, marginalization, poverty, and other social problems.
When I mention that I work in education in “the city”, people often respond with “Wow, teenagers? Low-income? Immigrant? The city? I don’t know how you do that!” My honest response is often, “Wow, I’m lucky that I get to do this! It’s a great responsibility.”
When I talk about my daughter Elena’s cerebral palsy for the first time, sometimes people similarly respond with “Oh, I’m sorry. That must be difficult. I don’t know how you do it.” Again, my mental response is similar to the one mentioned above. I’m lucky that I get to do this.
When my personal life sometimes collides with my professional life, both my daughter and the students form a community of kinship, love, and compassion that is authentic and palpable. Our students treat my daughter with the love and respect with which I believe we treat our students. It’s pretty simple, actually. If you want to connect with a teenager, treat them with kindness and respect.
One particular day, I had to leave early to drive home, pick up my daughter and return to school to pick up my wife (we both work at the same school) so that we all could go to Elena’s doctor’s appointment downtown. As I pulled into my parking spot, assembled Elena’s wheelchair, and planted her in it, I heard the 3:30 dismissal bell chime. I grunted and bemoaned that I would have to navigate my way through hundreds of high school students at dismissal in order to pick up my wife.
As I began to make my way through the halls, though, one of our senior boys who is typically very quiet and has a meek personality noticed me pushing my 5-year-old through the crowded halls and sprung to action, clearing a path like a border collie. He admonished other students, ”Hey! Get off your phone and pay attention! Mr. Walke is trying to get through with his daughter.” “Javier! Can you get the door and hold it open for Mr. Walke and his daughter?” “Mrs. Walke! Mr. Walke and your daughter are both here.” I thanked him for his unsolicited help and we were on our way to Elena’s appointment.
As we were driving back home, I marveled at the selfless love and care that this student demonstrated toward a young 5 year old that he had just met. I also remembered that this student had lost his mother at a young age. It was just him and his father at home. I like to think that we both realized that life doesn’t often go as planned, but it doesn’t mean that there is any less love in it.
I like to think that Elena brings out the best in all of us, including strangers. Almost every time I go somewhere with Elena — the grocery store, on a walk, or to the museum — strangers will look right at her and either smile from ear to ear, give her a high five, or introduce themselves. She just brings that out in people.
About a year ago, we brought our daughter to school for a mass. She was in her wheelchair, like always, and I remember overhearing, “Oh, that’s Mrs. Walke’s daughter — they look so much alike!” and “She’s so cute!” Not one of them mentioned that she was in a chair; they saw her, and not her disability. After the mass, students clamored around Elena to introduce themselves and talk to my wife and me about how nice it was to meet our daughter.
This was all happening in a school in one of the rougher parts of Chicago from kids who often deal with very adult issues. Again, the love and enthusiasm and the community of kinship that they create allows my daughter to be welcomed into society rather than left out of it. This for me is love.
after that experience at church, my wife (who is known for being a tough as nails teacher with high expectations) received an email from a student she’d never taught. The student began the email with a few words about my wife being known as strict but respected, and what she wrote next brought my wife to tears:
Today at mass I admired something more. I saw you turn to look at your daughter and the biggest smile came across your face. It wasn’t an “I’m proud of you smile” that a parent normally gives a child but a genuinely happy smile. Like suddenly you were on top of the world just looking at her. It was the most beautiful thing. I know it might be a struggle and to see your daughter be sick, like last year, but I learned something. God gives his hardest challenges to the strongest people. And Mrs. Walke, you are a very strong woman. So again, congrats on being a mom and just being the person you are. I hope your family is doing well!
It’s funny, adults often preach to teenagers and children that they don’t know the first thing about love, but it is acts such as these that demonstrate that they know a lot more than we give them credit for.
Read more about relationships at easterseals.com/love.