Thirty five is definitely way too old to be in high school;
Unless you’re a teacher …
Which I’m not.
But … The shock of my brother’s suicide two weeks ago and a harrowing dream changed everything;
changed my priorities,
my whole life direction.
God pounded on the door of my heart.
And He made it impossible to ignore.
So, I said farewell to my tidy desk, laptop and business suits, to say ‘RUOK?’ to teems of teens decked out in a black polo-shirt, jeans and sneakers … my self-adopted uniform appropriate for the vague and nebulous role of School Chaplain at my old school.
‘What have I done?’ is the haunting question, following each step through the gates into the grittiness of Boolahra Regional High School.
With only a hazy idea of what a School Chaplain does, I’m swimming in a sea of titanic-sized melodramas, daily drenched by colourful language and crass teenage bantering.
Lord, your timing could not be worse. My younger brother has just committed suicide and there is every indication that the bully-infested playground I stomp around each day is the very territory of my brother’s killer.
What, or more specifically, who drove my gentle, quiet artistic brother to kill himself? Was it a cruel, menacing teacher, a nasty ex-girlfriend, or a victimizing bully?
I don’t know, but I am determined to find out.