An Ordinary Day - Blessed

The alarm sounded at 5:55.  That early hour allows me to be up and started should I get a sub call at 6:30 and have to report at 7:30.  Since the schools where I sub are all at least 15 minutes away, I run the risk of cutting it pretty close anyway.  So by 6:30, the morning basics are done, the bed is made and I am fully awake.  That’s a real bummer when the phone doesn't ring.  Today my morning ritual was interrupted at 6:20 by a call from my daughter who is the morning sub caller at Gwin Oaks Elementary, which I like to call my school.  “Ah, a job,” I thought.

She hemmed around a little and then gave me a proposal.  There weren't any teacher jobs, but a special education parapro had called in sick and they wanted her to do that after she finished her morning computer classes.  (That’s because she is great with the kids and loves it.)  The problem was that yesterday she had volunteered to come into four kindergarten classrooms to help each teacher with assessment for an hour.  Obviously, doing both was not an option, so she wondered if maybe I would do her volunteer job so she could do the paid one.  So, you can guess how I spent my day.

It was actually quite delightful.  I read Lon Po Po (a Chinese Red Riding Hood tale) with one class, watched a signed version of Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks in another class, and assessed sight words with another class.  I was in "my" old Kindergarten classroom where I just connected with the kids. Getting those sweet hugs and stories just warms my heart.  It was spring picture day at school, so many children were dressed up.  One of “my” little Kindergarteners, who is just a peanut – I mean he is so little, he looks like he’s three - was wearing black dress pants, a soft aqua blue dress shirt with coordinating tie, and a black vest.  He was SO adorable!

Following that I rode with Beth, or perhaps it is more accurate to say she drove with me, to take the girls up to meet their dad for a weekend visit.  (Beth enjoys driving the new car and I enjoy being a passenger for a change.)  Supper at Chick-Fil-A satisfied everyone.  We made the trip safely in spite of a chill rain.  The return trip seemed amazingly short because Beth and I just chatted about anything and everything, solving at least a few of the world’s problems.  I’m not sure the rest of the world would like our solutions – we didn't even like some of them.

While some of our topics of conversation might have offered the opportunity for profundity, the day itself was not profound.  It was an ordinary day. Beth and I each were able to serve people in a way that really helped them. I spent time with my daughter and granddaughters and enjoyed their daily lives.  Tonight I opened a letter from an old friend from Northfield days who now lives in Montana, just connecting.  She has a son and grandchildren in the Atlanta area so the possibility of a lunch with her some time is very real. 

In my mind these are blessings from the Lord and I treasure them.  In that way they are indeed profound.

More funny that "Lenten"

I started this Lenten series of Joy in the Ongoing Journey with the intention of remaining somewhat serious as befits the season, but today finding the spiritual application may be a stretch, but it was ... what word would describe it? Scary, challenging, funny, weird, bizarre, seriously? (You know the seriously spoken with each syllable raised a pitch or two for the full question effect.)

Let me set the scene for you.  I returned home after subbing in a third grade class and a second grade Focus (gifted) class.  It was a good day.  Delighted by the pleasant temperatures and gentle breeze, I decided to hit my porch when I got home since the next week is supposed to be more conducive to an ark than to a respite   in the sunshine.  As I pulled up, one of my neighbors was trying to repair his car window so he sat with the panel off the doors clattering about with tools.  That occasioned a quick chat about do-it-yourself projects. He, too had decided to take advantage of the good weather to accomplish something; in his case it was more than a rest.

Wishing him luck on getting it all back together, I stepped into my apartment and did the double lock as is the habit here in the big city.  I grabbed my new Nook tablet and headed for the porch.  Little hints of spring fragrance touched the air, a few clouds covered the bright sun, and a little breeze made it just pleasantly cool.   I sat down and began to read.  Soon the short night and the long day began to catch up with me, and I set the notebook down and lay my head back.  However, the chair where my legs were propped was a little too high, so I decided to go inside and enjoy my sofa-chaise.  It seemed like a wise decision because my feet and legs were tired after the school day, and I imagined trying to get up from a nap with immovable knees.

I gathered my book and headed for the door.  I put my hand in the handle and ...the door was stuck.  Odd, I thought. It locks from the inside.  So I set the notebook down and tried again to no avail.  It...was... locked!!   Part of me wanted to cry, because I had no idea what I was going to do.  Calling Beth of going to the office for a Master key wouldn't help because the main door was double locked so it would not open to a Master key.  There I was, on my porch with its three and a half  or four foot privacy wall with no key to house or car.  Trying the door several more times and then thinking maybe I could lift up a little or something brought no solution.

A glance at my watch told me the office would close in 20 minutes, so prudence demanded that I get off the porch and hightail it to the office on my poor weary feet with my teaching shoes on.  The only problem with starting that was the privacy wall.  Now it's not all that high, but neither am I.  The flexibility I once had seems to be more than a little diminished, so at first it might as well have been 6 feet high.  However, undaunted I climbed up on the folding wooden chair that was my too high footstool and threw one leg up to the top of the railing  The other one followed and once they were both over, the trip to the ground was pretty much a matter of controlled gravitational pull.. Admittedly, I did not even look around to see who might have been watching.  I did not want to know.

Nor did I know I could walk that fast with the tired legs and dress shoes, but I passed several people in my trek and arrived in plenty of time.  As I attempted to explain my conundrum, they couldn't quite believe it, but once it was clear, the sweet ladies tried to keep straight faces, and then called the guys on the maintenance staff.  I heard, "No, no. She is really locked out - front door and sliding glass door."  Frankly, images of broken glass marked the only solution I could conceive. Word came that the crew was going to see what they could do and in about 20 minutes, Miranda whisked me back to my apartment in the golf cart.  There the guys were standing outside guarding my unlocked front door.  My hero explained that he had to unscrew the lock and fix it because it indeed had fallen down and latched because the internal mechanism was loose.

I am now happily ensconced in my house. Needless to say, I will be a little leery of shutting the  door completely when I go out on the porch and I will probably choose not to use the over the railing exit route any time soon.

I think this may call for using that O'Charley's gift card I have.

Is there any redeeming thought in this, any Lenten reflection?  Probably, but mostly what I reflect on is that once I would have stressed, or gotten mad, or cried or even screamed (well maybe not outside in an apartment complex), but I felt the Lord's calm and it is just another memory and story for the journey.  Thank You, Lord.

Cleaning Day - A (Wonderful) Ordinary Day

Today's post is more like the beginning days of the blog, just reflecting on my day.  

Today was delightful, and the delight originated in cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing, scraping paint drops, and meeting people. 

 Many weeks ago mold was discovered in the basement walls on one side of my  church.  The board acted swiftly, shutting down the rooms, shuffling programs, and arranging for the necessary abatement and repairs.  For months now classes doubled up or crowded into "trailers" for Sunday school and Bible Studies.  While it is a blessing that the church has the trailers for expansion, they are cold and drafty and certainly not the best for children and nursery, but they managed as the walls came down and went back up.

Today marked the first day of the move back into the newly reconstructed rooms with their fresh colors and flooring.  It was the women's day, doing those things that need to be done before furniture and fixtures are moved back so that the children can use them.  Even with a great construction and painting crew that actually knew how to clean up after themselves, the ladies wanted to know for themselves that everything was thoroughly clean.

The call went out to ladies for a cleaning day today.  I decided I would go if I didn't get a subbing job.  I think the Lord wanted me there because the phone did not ring this morning.  Heading over to church at the appointed hour, I found myself one of three. The organizer expressed concern, but it was unfounded, as more and more filtered in throughout the first hour.  Eventually, all she could do was direct the helpers to tasks.  

The main focus was preparing the nursery for babies and toddlers.  The room began completely bare, just the cupboard and cubbies, fresh paint and a new floor.  Though it really was pretty clean, we scrubbed the counter and the cubbies inside and out.  One lady wiped the chair rail and another the baseboard.  The tallest lady used a special soft brush treated with cleaner to wipe off the ceiling.  One vacuumed the floor; another mopped it.  

My task in the nursery was to do the counter top and the inside and outside of the cupboard.  Later I helped with cleaning up the bathroom.  The painters had really done a good job, but we found the random inevitable little paint drops, and of course, no scraper was to be found. We tried credit cards and keys.  Unlike Minnesota, no one had a scraper in their car.  The more we could not find a viable scraper, the more I saw little dots of paint.  I headed for the kitchen, surveying the counter for ideas.  Let me tell you, a pancake turner makes quite an effective paint scraper.

Everything that could be cleaned was cleaned, sometimes multiple times, as ladies sought something to do.  The nursery was back in order and looked so inviting.  I sorted toys for big and little children and organized them in baskets.  That is meaningful nursery work I can do.

All of this makes the day productive and satisfying, but the best part is that I really met other women, delightful women, as we worked together.  Every lady there has a name and I learned many of them - Kay, Gwen, Renee, Dani, Esther, Tracy, and BJ are dear ladies and a lot of fun to work with.

What does this have to do with Lent?  Once again I am reminded that as I give - give anything - time, or money, or food, I always receive so much more in return.  These ladies blessed me today.  I even had the joy of hearing some of their stories and receiving their hugs. Thank you Lord. 

Poetry Challenge

Coming home from Bible Study, lunch and a trip to get my email on my new little tablet, I was wondering about what to post today.  The discussions of Revelation in Bible study, while valuable, did not prompt thoughts of lent, spring or Easter.  My devotions, while good, did not ignite any spark.  However, my dear daughter posted the following on Facebook as she stood in the rain to greet the little car riders at Gwin Oaks.

Rain rain rain falling
Another wet car rider
There's a puddle. Jump.

She even pondered the idea of trying to post in Haiku, an interesting challenge.  As we chatted about the possibility of posting in a variety of poetic forms, I decided I would try a Diamante to express my seasonal thoughts for today. 

Lent

Somber  Thoughtful

Fasting  Praying  Reflecting

Quiet  Music  Solitude  Sacrifice

Giving    Living    Rising

Triumphant Joyous

Easter

Now my challenge to anyone who reads this - write your own Haiku, Diamante, Tanka, Cinquain or other poetry about the season from now through Easter.  If you would share it, please do.  Boiling big ideas down into a few words is a good exercise in reflection.

Blessings.

4 B's

B+BðBðB

Back in our Hutchinson Women’s Discipleship Bible studies, we always started each new study reviewing the quote:

          

In recent weeks in sermons on Romans 14 given by my pastor that quote has come to mind frequently as we have been challenged to “keep the main thing the main thing.”  Obviously, most of this is directed toward our faith walk, but some of the initial reminders came as the elections neared.  The church has devoted people whose political persuasions are completely opposite.  Pastor John urged his congregation not to let that come in the way of fellowship. 

Then as we got back into Romans after the holiday season, he introduced the  B+BðBðB (or B+B=B+B) to challenge our thinking even more when we are tempted to judge another person.  It challenges to understanding and patience.  Background and Baggage yield Beliefs which determine Behavior.  Whenever we are trying to share something of importance with another, we must realize that before they can change their beliefs they must re-frame those things which they carry from their background and baggage.

One easy example in the Christian realm is the one who came from a family in which the father was domineering or even abusive has trouble relating to God’s grace and mercy.  The one who was constantly criticized has trouble seeing their value in God’s eyes.  The implications carry into the world of school and work as well.

The call of the Romans passage is in essence to cut people some slack.  Offer grace in differences, not condemnation.  Backgrounds may be similar, but we know from looking at families that even the same household with the same parents does not afford a duplicate background for each child.  Add to that the baggage of our various experiences and we see that charity is needed at some point by all.  

Of Dandelions and Daffodils

 No color speaks the coming of spring more that bright yellow - the color of daffodils or dandelions.  A couple of weeks ago, as I stood out on the playground monitoring Teacher Directed Physical Education (recess preceded by a walk around the track), a little girl brought a bright yellow blooming dandelion up to me.  This Minnesota girl was in shock - a dandelion in winter?  That warmed my heart as much as the sunshine warmed my skin. The "miracle" was duly noted and relegated to the back burner.

However, a few days later when visiting an antebellum mansion in Roswell, we observed daffodils, in bud, in bloom, and past bloom.  Again the sunny yellow cheered the heart and soul.  Thoughts of those two flowers have been an almost daily remembrance.  "Object lessons" fluttered through my head landing and flitting away.

By most standards, the daffodil is the more beautiful flower with it's trumpet surrounded by fragile petals proclaiming the coming spring.  But it is a fragile flower.  I planted many daffodils in my flower beds in Hutchinson and only occasionally did they dance in the spring breeze.  Sometimes the leaves would poke through the soil too early, only to be frozen off or covered by a late spring snow.  Some of the bulbs became winter food for squirrels and other varmints.  Other times the leaves grew full and green, but no bud appeared.

I planted no dandelion seeds in my garden or yard, yet every year some bloomed in unwelcome locations.  In fact, it was my goal to eradicate them.  I had some success, but there was always a dandelion to be found by a granddaughter or friend.  What mom has not treasured that sweet gift of the dandelion bouquet picked especially for mom by a child, innocent of the dandelions' noxious reputation.  Few are the moms who did not take at least the first bright bouquet into the house and add it to a little jar of water.

There are lessons about life and faith in the flowers - and in those stories either the dandelion or the daffodil can be the symbol of the positive or the negative.  The daffodil springs up beautiful, but is fragile and dies quickly.  The dandelion is hardy and spreads its "love" near and far.  The dandelion is a weed and will destroy the beauty of a yard or the production of a garden.  The daffodil stands tall and shows its beauty to all who come by.

Perhaps if Jesus had been giving the Sermon on the Mount from one of the many hills that comprise this part of Georgia He would have used the dandelion or daffodil in the following verse, part of a passage encouraging us not to be concerned or worries. From Matthew 6:28-30:

"So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 

What is your lesson from the dandelion or the daffodil?

The Blame Game

Being in a number of different classrooms this year has reminded me of the Blame Game.  I think it is without fail, that in every class at some point during the day, a version of the following scenario played out.  The names have been changed to protect the guilty, and while the details may differ, the basic story has been heard in classrooms and day-cares and probably even in your house.

Mortimer, a small tear running down his cheek: "Teacher, teacher."  (They never remember the sub's name.)

Me: "What is it, boy with the blue shirt?" (I don't remember their names either, but after this, I know Mortimer.)

Mortimer, with a little hiccup: "She kicked me."

Me: "Tell me, what happened?  What's her name?"

Mortimer, tears coming a little more quickly with an occasional muffled sob for effect: "Matilda. She's over there. (pointing to a gaggle of girls in the corner of the room.) She just kicked me, for no reason at all. And see, look, there's a red spot where she kicked me." (pointing now to a clearly old scab that miraculously is still in place)."

Me, surveying the girl gaggle in the corner: "Matilda, please come here." (I don't know Matilda for sure, but since I have the name, I can hope she will come.)

Matilda, slowly disengages from the group and inches toward me, glaring at Mortimer.  Clearly, something has happened. She breaks her glare and turns to me.

Me: "Did you kick Mortimer?"

Matilda: "Um, well sort of, but he ....  me first."

You can fill in the blanks from your own repertoire.  Rarely does a classroom or sibling tattle represent the beginning of the interchange, and more often than not, finding the actual precipitating event is next to impossible.

This ploy is as old as humanity.  The Bible relates the first recorded conversation of this sort in Genesis 3. 

 ⁸ Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of        the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. ⁹ But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”
¹⁰ He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”¹¹ And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”¹² The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”¹³ Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?”The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

Sadly, it is not just Adam and Eve or children in the classroom, but honesty reminds me, I too, play the blame game.  When I mess up, I look for a scapegoat, someone else who might share the blame or provide me with a reasonable excuse.  Just last Thursday at high traffic time, as I avoided the spot where my accideny happened, the scene started replaying and once again, the argument in my head started saying that the damage of the two cars was inconsistent with it being totally my fault. I had to simply admit my car hit her car from behind.  It doesn't even matter, it is over and done and you will pay the higher insurance premium (consequences) for a period of time. "You are at fault and it matters not whether the other driver was or was not at fault.  Give it up!!"  

For many years I have been working on this and as you can see, I have not yet achieved perfection or anything even close to it, but I am learning.  One of the most powerful lessons I am starting to learn is that it's even OK to take blame that doesn't belong to you to preserve a relationship or friendship.

Oh, isn't that what Jesus did on the cross?  

Good Friday is coming.

Can I eat chocolate?

Can I eat chocolate?  Some people give that up as their Lenten fast.  For many who do it is a real sacrifice.

The concept of fasting is clearly scriptural.  It was done in the both the Old and New Testaments.  Jesus fasted in the the wilderness for 40 days and Paul fasted after his sight was restored on the road to Damascus.  Fasting is considered a spiritual discipline, but it was not something that was clear to me within the traditions of my growing up years.

In Intervarsity Christian Fellowship at college, the idea was introduced and explained.  My understanding was that is was a period of abstinence from food for the purpose of spending that time honoring God.  It could be for personal reflection and cleansing or as a part of a prayer journey for a specific request.  Subsequently, fasting has been presented as a call to personal discipline and to enhance spiritual growth in individuals or in the body of Christ. Youth groups across denominations participate in the 30 Hour Famine to raise money to feed starving children around the world.

The original understanding of a fast was that it was the denial or significant reduction in the food intake for a period of time. The idea was to use the time not spent eating and preparing food as a prayer time or devotional time.  In recent years, a broader scope of fasting has emerged suggesting that fasting could be giving up anything held as value.  Others give up time spent in one thing to do service for others. Any time the food or activity is missed or remembered is a prompt to seek the Lord.

Lent prompts discussion of the topic as several Christian traditions observe some kind of fast during the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. Sadly, it has often produced derision as people "gave up" things they didn't like anyway.  Others gave up or fasted from something that they really enjoyed, but spent their days bemoaning what they could not have. I'm not sure either of those are scriptural fasts. Many sites and treatises online discuss fasting and deserve a look if you are thinking of fasting for the season of for some other purpose.

However, this morning I was challenged with a different view of fasting in this season.  Following is the poem that was posted on an online prayer chain.  If doesn't matter what Christian tradition you come from, I think at least one of the phrases will give us something to ponder in our own Christian journey.

Suggestions for a Holy Lent

by William Arthur Ward (adapted)

Fast from judging others; feast on Christ dwelling in them.

Fast from emphasis on differences; feast on unity of life.

Fast from apparent darkness; feast on the reality of Christ’s light.

Fast from thoughts of illness; feast on the healing power of God.

Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.

Fast from anger; feast on patience.

Fast from pessimism; feast on hope.

Fast from worry; feast on divine providence.

Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.

Fast from unrelenting pressures; feast on unceasing prayer.

Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.

Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.

Fast from personal anxiety; feast on eternal truth.

Fast from lethargy; feast on enthusiasm and zeal.

Fast from facts that depress; feast on truths that uplift.

Fast from gossip; feast on purposeful silence.

Fast from problems that overwhelm; feast on prayer that strengthens.

Fast from worry; feast on divine providence.

Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.

Me and God

Me and God

I know that’s bad grammar but at the beginning of this Lenten season that calls us to think about sacrifice – The Lord’s sacrifice for my, our sin – I was pondering again my own relationship with and understanding of God.  The morning devotional that I read focused on “the fall”, so that led me to thinking about sin, the falling away from God’s standard.  My thoughts have been tumbling over each other as I considered the meaning of sin and its impact on our world and on me. 

Adam and Eve’s sin was not in what they ate, but in their desire to be like God, to be equal with God, to know as God knows.  In one sense, they got their wish.  The couple could see and recognize sin in themselves, and they tried to cover it.  Whether you believe this is literal or figurative, the message is clear – human kind who are honest with themselves recognize that sin and evil exist within their kind and within themselves.

My mind called up an early memory verse, Romans 3:23 – For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.  Years of preaching and teaching crowded for brain space, but what happened was that I started thinking about the glory, majesty, holiness, perfection, beauty, love and yes, the grace of God.  And I was reminded again that neither I nor anyone can achieve one of those as that characteristic is possessed of God.  I, we fall short.  We miss the mark, fail to achieve the standard, especially when we define the standard as Jesus did – loving our enemies, doing good to those who despise us, forgiving those who owe us without grudging…the list goes on.  Were it not for His grace, I would be lost. That is the beginning of the focus on Lent.  The focus in the end will be those events that secure my hope for a way to be acquitted since my best efforts will continue to fall short of God’s standard.  

Through the years my religious heritage has moved away from not even considering Lent except as something strange that others observed, to a greater understanding of the value of reflection prior to the highest holy time – when God Himself paid the price He demanded for our sin. 

Several years ago, a church I was part of asked people to volunteer to write a devotional for Lent, and that  was my first experience with actually observing Lent in any way.  In privacy the last few years I have given up something during Lent with the purpose of understanding in some miniscule way, what Jesus did not only on the cross, but as He prepared for ministry spending 40 days in the wilderness.  Each year it has been something God was convicting me of, but no conviction came this year until I was challenged to blog about my thoughts today.  

I attended an Ash Wednesday service last night with my daughter and her family.  The Pastor spoke of the sacrifice of giving up and the sacrifice of giving or doing something.  This morning as I wrote this, I realized what I am to do, for myself, and for those of you who might choose to read what I write, my Lenten devotional is this: to reflect each day, a little or a lot, on the thoughts that tumbled through my mind this morning and the meaning of this most treasured of Christian seasons.