Many students are scared about an unknown future. As I hugged my daughter this week, trying to assuage her sadness about the fact our governor has canceled schools for the remainder of the year, I realized [pullquote position=\”right\”]for many of our children, it has not been okay for a long time.[/pullquote] Her temporary concerns are due to this moment in time, but for many other children across this country the kids have not been okay for a long time. They go to bed hungry; they do homework by candlelight; they face abuse and mistreatment only to go to a place where they face a lack of belief and a lack of resources. The uncertainty that my daughter and son have is nothing compared to the uncertainty that 43% of children in low-income families face every day.
I thought about my own childhood, and recall a conversation I had with a colleague a few weeks ago. I explained that unless you have faced poverty, watched your parents make decisions about which bills should be paid, had to boil water on a stove for a hot bath, known the feeling of your stomach being empty, you can never truly understand the trauma and stress over being poor or understand the levels of poverty. All of the kids are not alright.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. I am hopeful that this season of disease will soon pass. I hope the children will return to schools soon. I can only imagine the concern that the class of 2020 has about their prom, graduation and seeing the friends that many of them may never see again as they prepare for the next stage of their lives.
I hope that when we come out of this dark time, we can be concerned with Kasserianingera, asking each other, “And how are the children?” with the renewed commitment to ensure that we can all respond with, “The children are well.”
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