School Lunch Box

The boy who owned the old metal lunchbox had scratched his name into the green paint. I imagined little Robert Warwick carrying his lunchbox to school. I wondered what it was like for him. Was he a bit frightened about what the kids would say? Was he thinking about the money problems at home? How did he feel when he scratched out his last name on his lunchbox? Did he miss his father?  

These are questions I wish I could have asked my dad, Robert Warwick. While going through paperwork in his desk, I found his old lunchbox. Why had he saved something that was probably a painful reminder from childhood? Another question without an answer.


Nowadays, we’d explain that my dad suffered childhood trauma. But he was just like many of the children of divorce—they can’t help but bring their wounds to school.


But sometimes school is the place where children find a bit of security, they find a place to rebuild their own life.


Several teachers helped Robert develop his love of science—and it changed his life. That’s a story my dad did share with me. I’m thankful for those teachers. And there are teachers to thank in all our lives. 


There are also lots of children to pray for as a new school year begins—especially those with lunchboxes like my dad’s.

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