"A Guarantee, Not a Promise"

Rohani. Her name has floated in and out of my mind since yesterday. She is as sweet as maple syrup. There's something familiar about her. Her tiny frame bears no resemblance to her personality. She has a big heart. I can't remember a day when she wasn't sitting there in my class wearing that same grey and black scarf, with a huge, crooked, toothy grin on her face. She is one of those people who is always wearing a smile, no matter what. Her face is permanently fixed in a sort of gleeful state, like a bowl of cherries sitting in the sun. 

I call on her a lot in class because she tries the hardest out of anyone. Every time I ask her to answer she jumps in her seat out of excitement. I laugh and ask her to speak. More than once, she has fallen out of her seat because she was focusing so hard on the answer. Her brown eyes are steady; she doesn't blink, but her whole body begins to scoot off the chair as she answers the question. This time, she falls off the chair and everyone breaks out in laughter. She manages to answer my question in mid-fall. Her voice is squeaky like wipers on a windshield, but it's a friendly sound like I've heard it before as are all of her quirks. She shoots back up onto her chair and cracks up at herself with her classmates, rolling her small head in laughter.

A few days ago, she waited until everyone had cleared the classroom because she wanted to talk to me. She asked me in her high-pitched voice, 

"Are you real leaving Afghanistan and go to Iraq?" 

"Yes, I am",  I answer unwillingly. Her eyes are hopeful and sad at the same time.

"I am sad to go", I add but the words sound flat and unauthentic when I say them. 

"Is there problem teacher?" She says this like she knows me well. 

"No, no problem. I just get sad when I have to leave my friends". 

" You will have wonderful time Iraq. I'm very sad you go though." Her big, bright features shrink for a moment. 

Then her face perks up like it always does. She flashes a huge smile and turns around and runs out of the class before I can say anything else. She is so awkwardly adorable. She's like a little toddler who bounces around being cute and falling over all the time. I don't think I've ever met a person so contagiously happy and bursting with energy. 

I finished up my last class yesterday by telling the girls how thankful I am that I had the opportunity to teach them. I told them how much they've taught me about Afghanistan and their lives. I said that I would miss them very much, but would always keep a place for them in my hearts. I promised not to forget them. My words felt small, but also powerful. There were many other things I wanted to say, but I stopped short and just said, "thank you". 

I looked over at Rohani and her eyes were brimming with tears. She wasn't looking down or trying to wipe them away, she let them fall into her lap and stared straight at me with one of her gigantic smiles. It broke my heart. I don't know what pain or what good things riddle her life. I can only guess. What I do know is that her well runs deep. On occasion, you meet those people who stick with you; their memory stays fixed in your mind and it comforts you to know that people like that exist or have at some point existed. 

Rohani is one of those people. She made everything I did in that classroom worth it. Her silent tears filled me with enough joy to last for the rest of my life. My heart did break, but I'm convinced that it will continue to break for the rest of time as long as I let myself get close to people. To go deep with people, even in silent exchange where words fail to make sense, is to live. In a beginner English class where students can't communicate much to me and I can't say much to them, relationships form. They may take shape into something beautiful, but often they stay mediocre, superficial; and then we forget them. 

I'm learning not to waste my life avoiding real relationship. I realize that this may sting a little because it's not on my terms and conditions. However, love does not exist between two people who agree to give and take exactly the same amount from one another. That's a business transaction and it is as easily destroyed as it is created. We give and we often lose. Loving someone is painful, especially when you must leave them. There is risk involved. Something about this kind of pain is cathartic though. Leaving this place and these people feels like a cool rain is about to wash everything away. There will be sadness in this loss, but hope in what was given and what is to come.  Rohani taught me this. Her tears are the little rains of a heart in mourning of good things that eventually must pass. Her smile guarantees hope that God will bring renewal of that good amidst life's brokenness.