Run for Joy

       In the 60’s before running or jogging was in vogue, my dad intentionally parked over a mile from his downtown office.  Did he do it to save money?  Did he do it because he could not find a parking spot up close?  Maybe not…   Wearing a crisp suit, a white shirt, tie and hat on his head, with briefcase in hand he ran to work.  Running was his expression of an exuberant joyful attitude that identified this man.  Running is not just an action, but it is also a form of self expression.

       Running expresses an attitude.  “Immediately, when they saw Him, all the people were greatly amazed, and running to Him, greeted Him.” Mark 9:15 “Now as He was going out on the road, one came running, knelt before Him, and asked Him, ‘Good Teacher, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?’" Mark 10:17   “So they went out quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to bring His disciples word.”  Matthew 28:8 “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it.” 1 Corinthians 9:24

       I love to watch children run.  It expresses enthusiasm that cannot be expressed in any other way.  Ask a child to come to do something special and the child will run.  Ask a child to do a chore and the child will walk or worse.  At school, we spend a lot of time teaching children to walk instead of running, leaping or bouncing.  I wish we could let them run.

       When I fell off a ladder six years ago, running became nearly impossible for me to do. I learned to walk quickly, but not run.  Lately, I have been practicing in the basement, because running is something I miss.  On a beautiful day, I imagine running and feeling the fresh air in my lungs and the sunshine on my face.  Running is better than walking to me.  Walking is good, but running is better.

      There is one thing better than running, however.

       “Now as the ark of the Now as the ark of the Lord came into the City of David …King David leaping and whirling before the Lord…”  2 Samuel 6: 16

            

       “Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour. And a certain man lame from his mother's womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple; who seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple asked an alms. And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said, Look on us. And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them.  Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk. And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength.  And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.”  Acts 3:1-8

Prayer in Public Schools

            No prayer in public schools!  I think of it when I am in the urban public school where I teach and someone asks me to pray.  I think of it when I send up a silent prayer in a moment of need!  I pray that God would help the people I work with, the parents, students and me.  I want to have love for others at all times and the wisdom to know what to do in the many difficult situations I encounter daily: I ask for this in prayer.  I think of it when I see a fellow teacher bow her head before eating her lunch.   No prayer in public schools?

            I remember when I was a child and prayer was allowed in public schools.   I remember when no one would think of eating a bite of lunch without our lunchtime prayer.  Even a snack was not to be consumed without prayer.   (Of course, many families had the same practices at home.)

            In December 2012 (so you know I am not reminiscing back too far), I went into a fourth grade class where the students were having a small party before the commencement of the Christmas holiday.  I helped the teacher arrange the food for the children. 

            It was nothing like the parties you would see in a suburban school with all kinds of colorful goodies arrayed on a bulging smorgasbord table. Instead, all of the desks were arranged in a close circle and the teacher had a small place mat on each desk.  There was a small cup with about a fourth of a cup of a fruit smoothie, a plate with about a half cup of popcorn, one Hershey Kiss,and a small wrapped candy cane on the place mat.

            There was such an air of excitement as the teacher invited the 20 students to take a seat and then begin eating.  One fourth grade girl said, “ No!”  She told the students that they could not eat before thanking the Lord Jesus for their food. Spontaneously, they all locked hands and raised their hands above their shoulders and began to pray in unison: “Lord Jesus, we thank you for this food! God is great, God is good and so we thank him for this food…”  They continued a very long version of this old prayer. At the end, they shouted: “Amen!!!” They all seemed to know this prayer and if any did not, they said it anyway as though they did!  Needless to say the other teacher and I were speechless.  I muttered something like that was very nice as I wiped the tears.

            Society has done a lot to squelch prayer and its practice in the past 50 years.  On many levels, it has succeeded.  However, as long as there is need, gratitude and a human longing for God there will be prayer, not just in foxholes and trenches, but in homes, churches, stores, factories, parks, wilderness areas and, yes, even public schools!

                       

Another Snow Day

        Another snow day…(a holiday from teaching and learning at school due to difficult weather)  Since we just had one recently, I was not quite as excited this time.  I was determined to get some things done and enjoy some time outdoors in the snow.

        Most of my plans to be outdoors went awry.  I planned to spend the day sledding with some children from church (Plan A), but my husband was worried about the watery mess.  Even though we had a lot of snow, it was the watery kind that felt like an ice-water-filled sponge when you squeezed it.  I succumbed to his wishes and went for Plan B, which was to help him shovel the driveway.  He got out there and did the job while I was busy with another chore. He did not tell me and did not wait for me. (I guess he did not realize that I really wanted to help.) Thus, “snow day” was having little meaning for me.  I was stuck inside. 

        Visiting a sick friend in the hospital was what I planned for the afternoon.  She was so sick that I could only stay a few minutes and kept falling asleep when I tried to talk to her.  I decided to leave. I had hoped to spend the afternoon with her. Even though it was not an outdoor plan, it did not go as I hoped either.

        However, the walk to and from the car to the hospital and a short walk in an old neighborhood provided just the experience that I craved.  My boots were keeping my feet dry as I sloshed through the snow.  The cold snow, now water, that had melted, chilled my feet as I walked but my socks and feet were dry.  The wet, moist air made me wake up and pay attention to my surroundings.  It was a beautiful mid-afternoon in March and I was walking, not inside a school building or around the house; but outside and breathing fresh, clean air!  That chilly, tingly feeling that makes you realize that you are happy to be alive came over me!  Kicking wet snow can be a hoot!

The Power of First Impressions

The Power of First Impressions

I was thinking about a restaurant I visited about 25 years ago and was remembering that the first impression I had I was not good.  I went back to see it tonight, because I am planning a private party. Its reputation is excellent and people rave about the food. I had to check it out, because the location was great for our event. When I got to the door, it was so strange to feel that same negative way again.  The atmosphere, under the guise of eclectic, presented a confusing, strange, cold message; I just did not like the ambiance at all for the second time. I had made the assumption that the first impression I had was not valid any more, but indeed my impression was not altered by a second visit. 

What about us?  Do we take care to provide a positive first impression?  Truly, we may not have a second chance. Is this talk just about impressing others?  Does it matter if we impress others anyway?  These are questions that beg to be answered.

My twenty-one year old son brought a young lady to our home recently.  I know that I did not make a good impression on her, because I treated him like a child, at one point in the evening. She probably thought I was a very controlling mother.  I apologized to my son and asked him to apologize to her, but I will never have another opportunity to make a positive first impression with her again.

I think first impressions are very important.  They hold the key to a relationship in many ways.  If my first impression of you is that you are loud, arrogant or lacking in character, I may not give you an opportunity to get to know me.  If the first impression I make is likewise poor, you may not give me a chance to become acquainted with you. Thus, the relationship is halted or permanently destroyed.

Impressing others is not what a “positive first impression” is about. It is not about vanity or show.  It is about putting our best selves forward so that a relationship can be built with a person that is like me or has something in common with me.  It is like an initial screening for friendship or fellowship. 

The quality of a first impression is nurtured through the much maligned form of conversation called “small talk”.  Small talk is really some of the most important talk we will ever speak, because it is talk designed to seek a common ground for friendship.  It is an amazing, delightful experience to find commonality among a fellow sojourner.

I do value lifelong friends, but I always hope that I will present myself in such a way that new people would be interested in getting to know me and even more so that I would show others a genuine interest in them.  The real key to making a positive first impression is, of course, an outgoing concern for others instead of a preoccupation with self.  This is a fundamental way to overcoming shyness and self-absorption., too.  Outgoing concern is a secret to a lot of great things in life. 

Is this talk about impressing others? No, it is about making a genuine loving human connection.  Does it matter if we impress someone?  No, it is not about showing how great we are.  It is about being our best self at all times.  First impressions are about getting rid of some of our unimpressive ways so that we can let our “light” shine through.  As Christians, it is simply, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.”

A Snow Day!!!

           It is hard to say Calamity Day, when Columbus City Schools’ students and teachers alike look forward to having an unexpected holiday in the winter.  Calamity Days usually occur when the roads are bad due to snow, but we have had them over the years for power outages and frigid, below zero temperatures. For the safety of the children, the area schools are cancelled on these Calamity Days.

           This winter most of the bad days began or occurred on weekends or in the evenings when the salt crews had plenty of time to do their clearing.  The weather has been frigid and we have had quite a few inches of snow, but no Calamity Days, or Snow Days, as I prefer to call them.

           The teachers at my school have a little ritual, which helps us to not get too disappointed when the snow falls at the wrong time. On the day before the forecasted snowstorm, we do a lot of winking when we talk about tomorrow and tell ourselves and each other that we will probably have school. We assure the students that most likely we will have school on the morrow.  We take home what we might need if we will not be at school the next day, but we plan for the next day as though it will be “business as usual”.

           Yesterday, since the messy weather was forecasted for a Friday, we had to take home our weekend work, just in case.  Saying good-bye to the other teachers, as we leave the school, on such a day, is always, “See you tomorrow!”(wink, wink), but hoping we won’t.

           Then, there is my ritual of waking up in the middle of the night and checking the weather outside and getting up earlier than usual from sheer excitement and, finally, hearing the radio announcer say, “Columbus City Schools are cancelled today!”

           Today’s weather was slippery and icy with no real snow involved.  By 10 AM all of the problems with the roads had disappeared.  I cleaned; did laundry; went to the store; did taxes; paid bills; talked to a former teacher, who knew what a joy a day off from school can be; exercised for an hour; wrote some cards, read and cooked.  I also burned the bean soup I was making for dinner and the washing machine broke.  In spite of the totally mundane things I did, I felt thankful and joyful all day.  I really felt like playing in the snow all day long, even though that was impossible, because there was no snow.  After all, I have been a teacher or a student nearly all of my life and this was a “Snow Day”, a special treat in the lives of students and teachers, with no calamity at all.

                   This is what I would love to do on a Snow Day!

The Intruder

We had only been married for a short while and our sparkling new home seemed perfect.  We were working on decorating this place, sharing our lives and making decisions together that were binding us as a couple.  Then, the intruder arrived.

This intruder was a beaten-up, broken-toothed, black alley cat that my husband, Mark, found at his shop. The cat had been in many a fight and was filthy.  I assumed, as I saw him lying in the box of towels in our garage, that he needed to be cleaned up, fed and returned to the alley he loved. Mark wanted to bring him into our sparkling new house and nurse him to health. I could not have been more adamantly opposed.

Our family had a few cats when I was growing up and they were a delight to our whole family.  However, I remembered vividly the brand new carpet being ruined and a large spot on the hardwood floors being stained, when we brought the cats to my parents’ new house many years ago. I did not want déjà vu to occur.

I wanted our home to stay beautiful and the intruder could not be trusted.  My husband’s soft-spot for animals, especially this intruder, was definitely something that I intended to logically talk him out of. I was sure that reason would triumph. The cat was not allowed in the house. “We” were making plans about who would want this cat (since returning him to the alleys was clearly not an option for Mark) and making sure that “we” were not getting attached.

Any talk of naming him was nixed by me, because “we” could not get attached. Naming it meant a special connection.  It meant that this intruder might get an identity other than the nameless, homeless alley cat that he was.  What would be the point of naming it when someone else would want to give it another name?  Clearly, the cat did not need a name.

The first night the cat was with us, Mark gave him a bath.  I imagined that Mark’s arms would be scratched from shoulders to fingernails from giving this feisty, alley cat a bath.  To my surprise, the black cat with a white mark under his chin was totally white when wet.  His fur was extremely dense and beautiful and dried into shiny black.  However, when wet, he was white. (How could a black cat be white? I still do not understand this exactly, but it was true. Perhaps, it was because only the tips of the fur were black.)  When the bath was over the cat purred out loud and Mark received not a scratch. 

The next evening Mark’s mother was coming to dinner and we planned to show her the beautiful cat and ask her to keep it.  She was a lonely, divorced woman and needed a cat to keep her company, “we” decided.  As the evening progressed, the cat was not mentioned by this lonely lady’s son.  I kept gesturing, kicking and clearing my throat. Finally, he showed her the cat that he found and did not so much as even hint about her taking the cat. He said later that she would not want it and did not have room for it. Of course, he did not even ask. I was livid.

The rest is history.  The intruder moved in from the garage to the dining room, to the family room and, eventually, had free run of the house.  The ultimate intrusion occurred when I realized that the intruder was sleeping at the foot of our bed.

Mark would whistle the Andy Griffith (Mayberry R.F.D.) Theme Song and the cat would come. He did not hide like some cats; he enjoyed being with us. He would sit on our laps and was indeed a wonderful pet for seven years. Our carpets and floors were never ruined. The cat did not even shed. 

The cat did get an official name: Gatto. However, Mark had so many special, affectionate names for the cat it was hard to keep up with all of them.  The vet’s office had trouble keep up with them, too.  We, at one time, got four different notices from the vet saying that our pet’s shots were due.  Each of the four notices was addressed to the owners of Gat, Szgat, Zcat, or Gatto.  Little did they know that this was all the same cat. This nameless, homeless cat had more names and “special connections” than he could have ever dreamed of.  My name for the cat was Intruder. (Not all intrusions are bad and they can even be a source of joy.)

Most Treasured Heirlooms

Most Treasured Heirlooms

       These quotes express some important ideas about family heritage.

"A family with an old person has a treasure of gold." Author Unknown

"If you don't recount your family history, it will be lost. Honor your own stories and tell them, too. The tales may not seem very important, but they are what binds families and makes each of us who we are." 

Madeleine L'Engle

"How will our children know who they are if they don't know where they came from?"

John Steinbeck

"Our most treasured family heirloom are our sweet family memories."  Author Unknown

"Do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live.  Teach them to you children and your children's children."

Deuteronomy 4:9

           Maybe we parents of today worry too much about entertaining our children.  We fear that they will be bored if we talk about the past or tell our stories. We fear we will get the dreaded "eye-rolling " response. So...they are bored. Boredom has served as a fertile ground for many wonderful, creative, intelligent thoughts. Why do adults always say that children will get in trouble if they are bored?  In my opinion, it is mostly a lack of guidance and supervision that gets our children in trouble, not boredom.

          A child will see Brave ten times, but does not know any of his or her family's stories.  Our children have not learned to listen to the adults in their families (or their teachers at school), but they can watch a movie or play a video game for hours. Some of these are the same children who bear the label of ADHD.

         A family must find time for the sharing of stories or the stories will be lost.  Make meal time, bedtime and time in the car a time for family stories, if there are no other times in the day.   Family stories are unifying and identity-building, but they can also be used to teach lessons about what works and what doesn't work in life.  

         Will the families of the future just look like a bunch of different aged roommates living in the same house or will it look like a "group home"? Will everyone be watching their own shows and eating their own food at their own times in front of  multiple TV's?  Will the parents' role in the family be mostly just shuttling children and earning the "cash"? Of course, this is a complex question and the answer depends on several things, but there must be that solidifying identity that makes each family special and gives us a framework of belonging. There is a binding, calming, loving force found in our family stories, which truly are our most treasured heirlooms.