Makayla - One Year Later
Her house was finally torn down. It had to be done eventually. But I'm not sure which is worse. The burned out ruins had been a constant reminder to all who had known her. But somehow the house's absence, however necessary, felt wrong too. As if in some way its removal threatened a delicate memory - a memory of a life that was all too brief.
I am a teacher. During this career, I have had thousands of students come and go through my classrooms. Some kids remain fresh in my mind, but most are shadows, forgotten by the enormity of their numbers. And while the yearly flood of teens has greyed my memory, two enduring qualities annually repeat themselves – fragility and resilience.
These two seemingly incompatable characteristics – but representative in many young people – now share eternity with one student in particular.
From the moment she entered our middle school five school years ago, to the day she moved on to the high school three years later, Makayla Corbin was regarded as a sweet, kind and gentle girl. Her smile was genuine, reaching her eyes, lighting up her entire face. And Makayla was a good friend to her classmates. The kindness and loyalty she gave to others was happily returned to her. But there was more to Makayla - a steel within her that was not readily visible.
Outwardly, however, one might define Makayla’s qualities – sweet, gentle, kind – the way we think of a feather drifting in the breeze - fragile. A feather is captive to where the wind wills it. The feather may be forced into places it doesn’t want to go, circumstances it doesn’t want to face, but the feather isn't truly free. And so it blows.
Makayla’s life was never seemless. Like that feather, she was blown into unwelcome circumstances – conditions that none of us would want to face. But Makayla had no choice. She weathered long absences from her mother – serving in the military – with grace and dignity, albeit not without pain or a sense of loss.
During those long stretches apart, Makayla (perhaps unknowingly) wove another quality into her fragile world - resilience. But Makayla could have easily taken a different path, and few would have blamed her had she struggled emotionally or academically without her mother. Instead, she became that person (young or old) we admire most – resilient in the face of adversity. Like the poem Invictus asserts, Makayla moved forward undaunted, the master of her fate . . . a feather tacking into the wind.
Resilience is too often an undervalued (and under-represented) personal trait. What makes resilience in a young person even more admirable is the likelihood that the situation they are trying to rise above is never of their making. Crushing poverty, physical abuse, emotional neglect, a bitter divorce, or an absent parent – these traumas are not a child’s doing. Yet every once in a great while someone like Makayla Corbin overcomes – and can see a hopeful road before her, rather than a bleek repetition of a helpless past.
Tragically, the unforgiving fragility of existence was exposed a year ago this week when Makayla and her mother died in a house fire in Osceola, Wisconsin. Fragility – both gentle and unbearable – is one of our defining qualities. One beautiful, the other painfully mortal - each fighting for possession of our souls.
Yes, the house is gone now, and so is Makayla. But Makayla’s resilience, even in death, will never be taken from her, or ever forgotten by those who knew and cherished her. Nothing can wrestle this final, defining feature from her. And it is this fragile gift of resilience that will keep Makayla's feather floating freely in our memories.
I am a teacher. During this career, I have had thousands of students come and go through my classrooms. Some kids remain fresh in my mind, but most are shadows, forgotten by the enormity of their numbers. And while the yearly flood of teens has greyed my memory, two enduring qualities annually repeat themselves – fragility and resilience.
These two seemingly incompatable characteristics – but representative in many young people – now share eternity with one student in particular.
From the moment she entered our middle school five school years ago, to the day she moved on to the high school three years later, Makayla Corbin was regarded as a sweet, kind and gentle girl. Her smile was genuine, reaching her eyes, lighting up her entire face. And Makayla was a good friend to her classmates. The kindness and loyalty she gave to others was happily returned to her. But there was more to Makayla - a steel within her that was not readily visible.
Outwardly, however, one might define Makayla’s qualities – sweet, gentle, kind – the way we think of a feather drifting in the breeze - fragile. A feather is captive to where the wind wills it. The feather may be forced into places it doesn’t want to go, circumstances it doesn’t want to face, but the feather isn't truly free. And so it blows.
Makayla’s life was never seemless. Like that feather, she was blown into unwelcome circumstances – conditions that none of us would want to face. But Makayla had no choice. She weathered long absences from her mother – serving in the military – with grace and dignity, albeit not without pain or a sense of loss.
During those long stretches apart, Makayla (perhaps unknowingly) wove another quality into her fragile world - resilience. But Makayla could have easily taken a different path, and few would have blamed her had she struggled emotionally or academically without her mother. Instead, she became that person (young or old) we admire most – resilient in the face of adversity. Like the poem Invictus asserts, Makayla moved forward undaunted, the master of her fate . . . a feather tacking into the wind.
Resilience is too often an undervalued (and under-represented) personal trait. What makes resilience in a young person even more admirable is the likelihood that the situation they are trying to rise above is never of their making. Crushing poverty, physical abuse, emotional neglect, a bitter divorce, or an absent parent – these traumas are not a child’s doing. Yet every once in a great while someone like Makayla Corbin overcomes – and can see a hopeful road before her, rather than a bleek repetition of a helpless past.
Tragically, the unforgiving fragility of existence was exposed a year ago this week when Makayla and her mother died in a house fire in Osceola, Wisconsin. Fragility – both gentle and unbearable – is one of our defining qualities. One beautiful, the other painfully mortal - each fighting for possession of our souls.
Yes, the house is gone now, and so is Makayla. But Makayla’s resilience, even in death, will never be taken from her, or ever forgotten by those who knew and cherished her. Nothing can wrestle this final, defining feature from her. And it is this fragile gift of resilience that will keep Makayla's feather floating freely in our memories.
Comments
Post a Comment