The Voice We Listen To

      Race is an incredible movie on many levels, but the best part for me was the message and lesson about focus and what voice to listen to. The coach told Jesse Owens that they will love you and they will hate you, but when you are out there in the race, you are alone. He was reminding him to think about his goal rather than the opinions of others.
      Then, the following locker room scene was amazing. There was a lot of deafening noise: white guys calling him racially motivated names, the football coach screaming at him, the echoing of all the loud noise and his own coach trying to tell him what to do.  The coach overpowered the other distractions by saying that the only voice he should listen to was his (coach's) voice.

      My job experiences in an urban elementary school, where there are a lot of distractions for my students made this particularly meaningful to me.  Sometimes there are students misbehaving and lots of noise in the hall.  Sometimes there numerous simultaneous distractions for students.  I teach the students to ignore the misbehavior of others, focus on their assignments and responsibilities, and listen to the teacher's voice. When I see students forcing themselves to focus, when the normal response would be to watch the misbehaviors/antics of others or allow themselves to get distracted, I am elated.  I think that the power to focus will serve them well in life.
      There are so may distractions in this world and it is so easy to get distracted from what really matters.  The Bible is full of scriptures to remind us what to think about, what to focus on and what to do.  I could quote about 20 verses on this subject right here, but I will not.  The power of focus is incredibly important and is something I think about often.  But there is something to be considered even more than focus.
       What voice do we listen to? What voice to we focus on?  As a parent, I would like my son to listen to his parents,  As a teacher, I would like my students to listen to my voice and my instruction. As a Christian, there is only one voice that I can listen to.
        "...The sheep follow him, for they know his voice."  That is a great illustration that Christ used to remind us what voice Christians have to listen to.  Part of the response that Christ gave to Pilate, when asked if he was a king, was "...Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice."  There are a lot of sounds, a lot of noise, a lot of distractions and a lot of confusion.  I am reminded the importance of the voice we choose to focus on and the voice we listen to.

The Wrong Name

       The name of the movie was like  a fingernail scratching on a chalkboard (if anyone knows what a chalkboard is anymore).   One of the most beautiful words was blasphemed in my mind.  I saw the trailer and felt a cognitive dissonance.  I saw the movie and I felt sick.  The story was interesting, but how could they name it Joy?  The character in the movie never even showed an ounce of joy!
       It was the story of a self-made millionaire who invented the Miracle Mop and became successful through QVC and Home Shopping Network.  Her name was Joy Mangano. The title was given because of her name,of course, but this did not work for me. I wanted the movie to be about joy.
       Her disfunctional family, strong ambition and "rough road to hoe" made the movie made me feel many things, but not joy.  It could have been called Fortitude , Drive or even Stamina, but not Joy.  The movie's story was a lot like Erin Brockovich, only without the cheerful face of Julia Roberts.
       Is joy just a feeling?  I think it is much more.  Is joy just another word for happiness?  I think it is not.  Is joy only something spiritual?  I think it can be physical, emotional and mental, too.
      Can joy come about in a disfunctional family?  I think yes.  Can joy come through fulfilled ambition?  I think yes.  Can joy come when life give us a "rough road to hoe"?  I think yes.
       Christians are supposed to "count it all joy when you fall into various trails, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience..."  Joy can fit with trials, difficulties, dysfunctions and ambitions, when viewed through the lens of faith in Christ. The character in the movie made no reference to Christianity.
       I hate it when a word does not fit.  All the emotional packaging that goes with a word like joy was wasted on this movie.  In this sad world, I hope that viewers of the movie, Joy, do not think that joy was what they were seeing.  Joy is a powerful, special word.  When  "joy" was used to a name a movie without containing any, I felt the emptiness of unfulfilled hope.  Why would a movie called Joy, not be joyful? (Would the Hateful Eight be about eight loving guys?)
       "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver," said Solomon, the Wise.  The contrary is like a pearl in the snout of a pig or a fingernail scratching on a chalkboard.  Word choice is important, at least it was back in the day!

     

The Joy of Visibility

   I felt like I was experiencing an Emily Dickinson moment.  The eight year old little girl in my reading group said, "I am invisible in my other class." "I am invisible!" She kept repeating it.  I cried invisibly when she said it.  It reminded me of how I felt when another little eight year old, only that time a boy, told me years ago that his teacher didn't like little boys.
   “The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible” 

―Vladimir Nabokov

   We are all in so many ways "clamoring to become visible". Yes, we are clamoring to see the invisible and know the invisible. It is as though many invisible things are longing for visibility. We look forward to a time when the secrets and full knowledge of God will become visible and clear.  In the meantime, we cannot forget to notice the needy, the imperfect, the poor, the voiceless, the widows, the fatherless: the invisible in our midst.

Joy in Obscurity?

     My obscure,unknown blog is like a private online journal or diary that is available to readers, but maybe not accessible. Very few read it, and even fewer comment.   I sometimes think I would like to promote my blog, but that would take time and skill that I do not currently possess.  I am basically writing to myself and the people who might stumble on to my thoughts. It takes a bit of an effort to find a blog and trouble to keep up with reading someone's ramblings.  I am not complaining, because I could do something about it if I wanted to.
     In three and a half years of blogging, somewhat inconsistently, I have  written 80 blogs and had about 3600 page views. That is not very much at all.  I have had a few comments, mostly from my sister. A good friend wrote a few, too. I had one lengthy comment in Arabic, which I could not not read. I doubt if the person could read what I had written either. I guess I need to delete the comment. It might be a secret message to a spy of some type. I do have an imagination, don't I?
     Why do I still blog?  The first reason is simple: I enjoy writing!  Secondly, it is fun not to be critiqued.  Thirdly, I do sometimes find joy in obscurity. Fourthly, it is therapeutic for me to write and focus on positive, joyful things, when many things in life are not so much that way. Finally, I am leaving my footprints behind, though they are ever so light!
      I hope my son will someday read what I have written and maybe even share my blog with his children. Just as we would be interested in reading the diary of an ancestor's journey on the Oregon Trail, I hope that they would be interested reading my blog, "A Small Patch of Flowers"! I know I said I "sometimes" find joy in obscurity, but not permanent obscurity, you can be sure!!!
     

I’m Nobody! Who are you? 

Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –  
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –  
To an admiring Bog!

   

It's What's Inside That Counts!

      It's what's inside that counts! I have taught some classes to my students about this idea.  What is on the inside of a person is so much more important than outward appearance. I want them to understand that in a world of glamour and image. That is an important lesson for children and adults alike, I believe.
       As a teacher, my job at the end of the school day is to get on a walkie-talkie and call the students out of the building when their parents arrive to pick them up at dismissal time.  I make a point of waving and saying good-bye to each student.  Some children are so excited to see the parent and some are slow-moving and do not seem to be terribly motivated to go home.
       One little girl, Leanna, out of about forty students who ride cars instead of buses, is always excited to go home. She always smiles to me and speaks to me by name and says "good-bye" to me.  She might tell me to have a good evening or a nice weekend.  I have never taught her in my class and I don't really know her well, even now.  She is the most polite of all forty.  She is the only one who initiates speaking to me and the only one who uses my name. It is remarkable to note how much a little outgoing concern, training and manners are appreciated in an age of "gimme". Yes, even a child is known by her fruits.
       Her mother picks her up with the same smile and sweetness, too.   It causes one to take note. Why does she stand out?She is not the cutest child of the group, but she has something that the others do not have quite as much.  It is a glow that comes from the inside.  It radiates a bit like love.
       So much for the nice, sweet story. Oh, but let me not forget the rest of the story.  Ours is a school,where all of the students are underprivileged and poor.  Leanna stands out to me among the car riders, because she speaks to me and says my name.  If you lined her up with all the other girls, she would be most ordinary of the children; one might say she was almost homely in appearance. Her hair is not tamed and her clothes are not particularly nice.
       When her mother picks Leanna up, it is in the oldest, beat-up, dented car that one could imagine with a smashed in windshield across the entire front.  It makes a horrendous noise when it arrives, but the face inside the car is always smiling. When her grandpa, with his scruffy beard comes, in his dented, rattle-trap of a truck; he has to move his tools and junk to the back, so there is room for her inside.  He looks like someone on the "most wanted" list. He gave the wrong name for the child, when he came to pick Leanna up for the first time, so I was very cautious about even letting her go home with this wild-looking character, but again he was joyful and kind.
        A woman from my church,with a heart of gold, made some beautiful crocheted hats and scarves for me to distribute to some of the students at my school.  I had given all of my students a set and I had one left over.  It was a pale green scarf and hat of a most lovely color.  I somehow kept thinking of  Leanna.  Yesterday, I pulled her aside and ask her if she could use a scarf and hat.  She quietly nodded and humbly accepted.  I felt so happy; she was a good choice.
        Today, at dismissal, when Leanna's name was called she bounced  past me with the beautiful, pale green scarf securely wrapped around her sweet neck. It was the only new item I ever saw her wear. We said ''good-bye" to each other and she got in the car. She had the biggest smile on her face as she rolled down the window to call out, "I hope you have a nice weekend, Mrs. G!" As the car chugged off, I found myself wishing that I knew her better. It was that inside stuff oozing out that cannot be not diminished by poverty.  That is the stuff that really counts!

What to Do About Oobleck and What Does It Have to Do With Thanksgiving?

   This post could easily be a part of a larger article called "Dr. Seuss for Grown-Ups".  As a big fan of Dr. Seuss (as most teachers are),  I see a lot of life lessons in his works.   As a Christian, I see everything through that world view.  So let me explain five valuable lessons, I see in Bartholomew and the Oobleck; why I used it every year at Thanksgiving time to teach "theme" or main idea to my 1st through 4th grade students; and why the story means so much to me.
     Bartholomew and the Oobleck  begins with Bartholomew a young page boy listening to Old King Derwin of Didd tell him how bored he is with the sun, the rain, the fog and the snow.  He really hates all the things that come out of the sky.  He is determined to get something new no matter how much the page boy tries to tell him otherwise.  The king says he will get something different and no one can tell a king what he can and can't do.  Bartholomew is the essence of common sense reasoning though he is not even a teen and the king is the essence of arrogance and self-will. Bartholomew says that even kings cannot rule the sky.
     The king beckons the wicked magicians and they are determined to make something new to come out of the sky. They name it "Oobleck".  It turns out that Oobleck is green, sticky, globby and is growing larger by the moment.  It gets larger and larger and everyone who touches it gets stuck to this insidious stuff.  At first the king is delighted and wants to have a holiday in its honor.  Soon it is apparent that the whole kingdom will be ruined and everyone eventually will be destroyed by its all pervasive presence .
      Bartholomew is running around trying to warn the people when he remembers the king and eventually finds him stuck to his royal throne in mounds of Oobleck.  King Derwin is trying to remember the magic words to get him and his people out of the royal mess that he created. What can be done about Oobleck?
       King Derwin is me, you and Lady Eve and Oobleck is sin. Here is Lesson Number One.  In our pride, we want something more or something better than what God has given to us.  The result of being ungrateful is Sin with a capital S.  Lesson Two is that when we are ungrateful, we are can lose the things that really matter.
       When Bartholomew enters the throne room and sees the king covered in Oobleck, he talks to him like no one ever spoke to him before.  Bartholomew represents to me the Wisdom of God's Word.  He tells the the king to stop looking for magic words and start saying a few simple words like "I am sorry" and "It's all my fault".   Here is Lesson Number Three: when you are wrong, say you are sorry and not just say it but mean it. (Christians call it repentance.)  At least say you are sorry, even if the solution is not in sight.
        It was as though God heard him and the Oobleck (ie, sin) went away.  The lovely sun came out and the former things were restored.  Then, King  declared a national holiday in honor of the four perfect things from the sky: the things that God created in the beginning.  Lesson Number Four is be thankful and appreciate what God has given you.
        Lesson Number Five is a combination of the other four lessons.  A lack of gratitude is a sin that leads to many other sins.  It is a result of pride.  It leads to horrible life messes and repentance is the only way out. Our loving God leads us out to repentance.  A truly repentant person is full of gratitude!  
        Read Bartholomew and the Oobleck  and see if you do not agree that it has a lot to do with Thanksgiving.  More importantly, read God's Word.  Let's be truly thankful or we may lose the things that we have.   Have a meaningful Thanksgiving Day and let being grateful be a way of life.

Joy in the Genuine

   I asked our 24 year-old son if he thought a girl without make-up could be beautiful and he said, "No!" This made me sad to think that he did not understand the principle of quality and had chosen to dwell in the superficial.
    This is the same boy, who when he was about 2, was confronted by a clown in a park with bold face make up displaying a big red smile, a ball for a nose and big painted on happy eyes.  When he saw the clown, he cried and screamed and hid him face in my clothes. He was terrified and from then on hated and feared clowns.
     His dad wanted to rent a Barney (the green dinosaur) costume for a children's event to delight his son, since Barney was his favorite TV show at the time.  When his father put the dinosaur head piece on in the costume shop, our son, again, cried and screamed.  The trial run save us quite a bit of money and put an end to that brilliant idea.
     He never liked stuffed animal heads either.  They scared him.  He never wanted to go into a room where a taxidermist had created something, though he dearly loved animals.
     His strong natural sense of preferring the real, the living, the genuine and disdaining the fake was alive and well. I understood where he was coming from.
     The images of the world's media definitely go for perfection and the superficial.  How could you really think that a made-up image was more beautiful than the real thing?  I appreciated his honesty, but I do hope that will gain a different perspective as he matures.
      When he meets the girl of his dreams, I hope that she will be so beautiful to him on the inside that the outside  will be almost insignificant.  I hope that he will learn that superficiality may make a promise that it cannot deliver and that the superficial appears to be something that it is really not.
      Okay,  I am not a guy, but this blog is about joy.  I hope my son will learn to find joy in sincerity and truth.  I hope he will grow to find joy in the genuine, "real deal".