A Tribute to my Dad

Father's Day is just around the corner. Last night my dear, sweet, almost-like-a-daughter, friend Amanda posted a tribute to her father who passed away a couple of years ago from cancer. It touched me so deeply, it was an hour before I was emotionally stable again. I was reminded of how blessed I am to still have my own father on this earth with me and it inspired me to write my own tribute while he can hear it with this world's ears. So, taking my cues from Amanda, this is for you Daddy...

It's silly what specific things you remember from your childhood. I remember the time a snake was in the mud puddle between the house and barn. Being the hero that you are, you swiftly killed that creature and calmed my hysteria so I could get back to the house. I remember you letting us ride in the scoop of the tractor while we looked for baby calves in the pasture, even though I'm sure you could have probably done it much quicker without us. I remember you smoking the occasional cigar and letting us kids blow out the match, an event we would fight over like it was some major accomplishment. I remember making gravy thickening for the coleslaw dressing because it was the only recipe I could recall and how you ate it anyway, telling me it wasn't that bad. I remember helping to innoculate the soy beans before you planted them, sitting in the truck waiting for you to come back around the field and fill up the planter. I remember you coming in after dark, covered in dirt, eating the dinner we saved for you. I remember seeing you reading your Bible every night before you went to bed and watching you stand at the communion table at church and pray.

Although I don't remember ever being awake for it, I am told that you came in every morning before milking to check on us and cover us up. Although I rarely ever spoke with you on the phone after I went to college, I am told that it was you who insisted Mom call to see how I was doing. These things are so indicitive of who you are--always in the background, working hard, loving deeply but never loudly, the personification of quiet strength.

You have taught me the proper work ethic--always give 110% without asking for recognition. You have taught me that relying on God for our every need is not an option, it is a way of life. You have taught me that to love the Lord and live for Him does not always have to be an emotionally charged response. It can be a steady, humble, faithful walk that never waivers even during times of difficulty. I would not be the woman I am today were it not for your daily example of Jesus inspired meekness.

I know there is a great possibility we will be separated physically some time in the future but I know that should you go to Heaven before me, you will save me a place at the feet of Jesus where together we can spend eternity praising Him. I love you Daddy. You are my hero.

Proud to be in the Midwest

Unless you have been living in hole somewhere for the last month, you are aware of the massively destructive weather we've been having here in the Midwest lately. Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Missouri have been hammered with storms that have flooded and/or destroyed thousands of homes. But we Midwesterners have a curious way of dealing with such tragic events. Let me try to explain, even though words really can't do this topic justice.

Since Joplin is geographically close to me, I have had the opportunity to be personally involved in the cleanup after an EF5 tornado left an 8 mile path of rubble in its wake. This particular tornado was unique in that not only was the funnel itself spinning but there were multiple vortexes inside it spinning also. Add to that a relatively slow speed of 30 mph and you have the effect of a garbage disposal, chewing up everything for a good 45 seconds before moving on. Not a leaf left on the trees, some houses literally reduced to splinters, cars crushed and mangled, concrete walls tossed around like styrofoam. And all of this is as far as you can see. Pictures just cannot capture the pit-of-your-stomach feeling you get when you are standing in what used to be someone's home, sifting through debris in a desparate attempt to find something, anything that homeowner could salvage of their previous life. Then after working for hours in the heat and humidity, you look around and realize that what you  accomplished was only a thimbleful of what still needed to be done.

As heart wrenching as all of this was, though, the curious thing was the atmosphere you encountered no matter where you went or who you spoke to. There were people EVERYWHERE; cleaning up, handing out food, offering water, ice, Gatorade, helping people fill out forms, giving free Tetnus shots, unloading truckloads of donations. There was the sound of chain saws, dump trucks, cranes, and surprisingly, laughter. You saw people of all ages, nationalities, and socio-economic levels working together for one goal--to bring hope to someone who had just survived a horrendous experience.

Hope was our primary job. Hope that things can be replaced. Hope that someday things would get back to normal, or at least something close to it. Hope that there would be people to help and we wouldn't stop coming until we were no longer needed. Hope that they were not alone in this tragedy and others were feeling their pain.

This is the mindset of people in the Midwest. Maybe I'm prejudice because I live here but I can't imagine a better place to call home. And the response of the people putting hands and feet to their faith, digging in and giving of their time, money, and resources has to be the closest thing to heaven I've seen in a long time. But probably the most positive thing that can come from these terrible tragedies is that the world is watching. Others are seeing first hand who we are as Christians and what that looks like put into action. A hundred sermons preached by the best pastors in the country could not speak as effectively as what has been witnessed on the now unidentifiable streets of several Midwestern towns. I can say without hesitation that I am proud to be from the Midwest!

Weirdness

I am currently reading Craig Groeschel's book Weird: Because normal isn't working and it has really made me start looking at areas in my life where I look like everyone else. The first subject he addresses is time and the million dollar question is "Do I spend my time like the majority of our population or am I weird?"

Let's take a look at normal first. You get up at the crack of dawn and move some laundry from the washer to the dryer, do some dishes, and get breakfast started. Get the kids up, dressed, and to the breakfast table. Turn on the TV to catch the news and weather. If you are technically addicted (like we talked about in my last blog), you get on the computer to check your facebook, e-mail, twitter, etc. Or maybe you are one of those that gets up at the last minute, shouts at everyone to hurry up, and flies out the door 10 minutes late while the kids eat a pop tart in the car on the way to school. After school, you take the kids to soccer practice, gymnastics, dance lessons, karate sessions or any number of other options that are available for our children these days. You drive through McDonald's, Taco Bell, or Wendy's on your way home, eat half of it in the car and the other half at home in front of the TV. Then it's time for homework, baths, and possibly more TV. You drop into bed at 11:00 or later, exhausted from the day.

Now, let's look at wierdness for a minute. You get up at the crack of dawn because that is the only time that the house is quiet enough to spend some alone time with the Lord. The routine is basically the same but without the stress, screaming, or rushing. You spend your day at work or at home being productive and looking for opportunities to share Jesus with whoever you meet. You always have a smile on your face and an encouraging word on your lips. The kids come home from school and go immediately to finish their homework without whining or complaining, then race outside to run and play until dinner time. You have dinner on the table at an appropriate time, there is stimulating conversation from everyone in the family, followed by group games or story reading before baths and bedtime. When all is quiet in the house again, you spend time reading the latest inspirational book while taking notes on how to apply it to your life. You slip into bed at 10:00, ready to face another day.

Okay, I know what you're thinking...be serious!! That never happens! You're right--that's why it's weird. But could it happen? I believe at least parts of it could. Or at least I could move toward making parts of it happen. And actually I know families that look very close to this weird model so it really can be done.

The book talks about a lot of other areas where weirdness can exist. It is making me more aware of my areas that don't really look any different than anyone else in the world. I've decided to make a concerted effort to look "weirder." How do you look?

Techno addictions

Wow, it seems like forever since I updated this blog. This is a really busy time of year for a principal but it won't be long before silence will take over these halls and I'll start wondering how long before my kiddos come back!

I want to take this opportunity to talk about this addiction we seem to have to our technological gadgets. John and I went to the movies the other night and after we found our seats, we pulled out my iphone and began to play Scrabble on it together. This is something we have taken up doing whenever we have several minutes to kill. It is a great way to keep our minds sharp--that's important you know, for us older people to do!

This particular night though, I looked around as I was waiting for John to play and noticed that about 75% of the theater goers had out a phone and were playing games, surfing the internet, checking their e-mail, etc. It occurred to me at that moment that we have become a generation that doesn't know how to wait. There is no such thing as just sitting and doing nothing in our world today.

We recently drove to Myrtle Beach for a family reunion and, in preparation, I packed a big canvas bag full of novels, puzzle books, movies, etc. to give me endless hours of things to do while riding. I found myself just sitting and watching the scenery but feeling terribly guilty for neglecting all that great stuff I brought to do! The idea of just doing nothing was such a foreign concept but after a few minutes I relaxed and just enjoyed myself. Since there were four of us in the car and no one liked the same kind of music, we didn't even have the radio on. Of course, I had my earbuds at the ready should I need to fill that void but slowly I began to embrace the silence instead of dreading it.

Is it any wonder that I often whine about how I wish God would just tell me what His will is when I'm so rarely ever quiet enough to hear Him? Oh, I have my hour or so in the mornings when I do my quiet time but what if He wants to talk to me at some other time besides 5:00 in the morning? What if I turned off my radio in the car on my drive to work? What if I left the television off when I get home instead of watching the news? What if I didn't spend every minute of my "waiting" time texting, facebooking, playing games, or some other socially acceptable preoccupation.

I'm not saying that music, TV, reading, or games are bad things. Those are some of my favorite ways to unplug my brain from the issues I have to deal with. What I am saying is that I am going to look for more times to just sit, quietly, and listen better. Maybe spend more time swinging in my hammock. Now if I could just get it to STOP RAINING!

Completeness

I love putting together puzzles. Not 1000 piece ones where all the pieces look the same--I don't have the patience for that--but ones where the picture is of some tropical island that I'd love to be on at that moment are fun for me.

Recently, as I was reading in John 15 about the vine and the branches, the old analogy about puzzles came to my mind. You know, the one about how we are all pieces to the puzzle of God's kingdom and we have to work together for the puzzle to make sense. Or that God can see the big picture and we can only see the pieces. But then I came to verse 11 where it says:

"I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete." 

I began to think about this idea of completeness and the pieces of the puzzle. What if each piece represented something challenging in my life? Maybe this piece is someone who is getting on my last nerve and this piece is a financial issue or a health problem or a family situation. What if each piece was God trying to teach me something--patience, love, mercy, trust, faith, forgiveness. Without each piece, I cannot be complete. There would be big holes in my puzzle and although I might be able to get the general idea of what the picture was supposed to be, it wouldn't be complete.

Are you following me here? I can choose to ignore the lessons God is trying to teach me and in essence throw away those pieces or I can embrace them, learn from them, and include them in my life. While I might still be able to manage a fairly good life with the former choice, my joy will never be complete. Completeness can only come when I make a conscious decision to make those pieces a part of the puzzle.

I don't think I'll ever look at a puzzle quite the same. And although that tropical island sure sounds good right now, complete joy in a mansion built just for me sounds a whole lot better!

Here Come da Judge

If you are as old as I am (or older), you probably remember the phrase "Here come da Judge" from the show Laugh-In, where a judge sat atop a bench and handed down ridiculous sentences to comical transgressions. The sketch actually originated from a comedian called Pigmeat Markham in the 50's and 60's but was borrowed by entertainers like Flip Wilson and Sammy Davis, Jr. as well as others. Although we laughed at the absurd nature of the judgments being handed down, some came dangerously close to being just as ludicrous as the evaluations we make of others based on generalizations. I suspect that may be why we found them so amusing because to take them seriously would have required a shift in our way of thinking.

"And when Saul had come to Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples; but they were all afraid of him, and did not believe that he was a disciple." Acts 9:26


Boy, if anyone had a reason to judge someone, the apostles certainly had cause to doubt Paul's sincerity. After all, their friends and family members were being killed by the group that Saul/Paul had only days ago been the ringleader. What do you suppose convinced them he was a changed man? The Bible says he had a personal reference in Barnabus and that they saw Paul speaking boldly for Christ and against the Hellenists. Only his actions could convince the disciples that this once murderous gang member had completely turned his life around.

And am I any different? Don't I have to have proof that someone has changed before I will cease to judge them? I'm not talking about letting an individual take advantage of me over and over. I'm saying that if someone comes to me, admits their past mistakes and asks to be accepted, is it my job to judge their sincerity? And does this mean that from now until they die, that person has to be 100% perfect, never again making any mistakes? Can I live up to that expectation? I think not.

Yes, there will be a "Here come da Judge" day but I doubt he'll be looking like Sammy Davis, Jr. or Flip Wilson. He will however be wearing a robe, riding a white horse, and holding the Lamb's Book of Life (See Revelation 19-21). And if my name is in that Book, it won't be because I have judged everyone correctly.

Hope and Determination

I recently returned from a mission trip to New Orleans with approximately 80 college students and sponsors. It was a humbling experience and wanted to take this opportunity to share some things with you as I process them myself.

• New Orleans is not even remotely fixed from Hurricane Katrina. Only one fourth of the lower nineth ward is inhabited. This was the neighborhood that was basically washed away when the levee broke. Although the Make It Right Foundation has gone in and built some houses, a great number of lots are vacant or still have houses on them that need to be demolished. And to add insult to injury, what the flood didn't ruin, thieves carried away while the owners were relocated.
• Government money has all but dried up and since the flooding occurred in some of the poorest of neighborhoods, there is no money to rebuild or tear down and certainly no one wants to buy the house or lot.
•  Despite the devistation, there are some of the most inspirational people I have ever met living in these neighborhoods. Self-pity is just not in their vocabulary. Those that have come back from being evacuated and are trying to breathe life back into their areas have a hope and a determination that far surpasses anything I think I could muster. I heard so many heart wrenching stories of tragedy and suffering but when we asked if we could pray with them, they often times wanted to pray FOR US instead! And quite often their prayers were of adoration for who God is and how He has taken care of them with not one mention of what they need now.

After I returned, my first personal devotion dealt with the verses where Jesus was asking Peter if he loved Him. While I had always looked at this conversation as a way of redeeming Peter's betrayal, the author pointed out that Jesus knew what Peter was going to have to endure in his life. He knew that ambition could not get him through. He knew that determination or desire could not get him through. He knew that only love for Him could sustain Peter throughout the persecution he was going to face.

And then it hit me. That was exactly what had sustained these people in New Orleans--a passionate love for Jesus. Of course, a bit of determination and good old fashioned stubbornness didn't hurt but only love could explain the level of hope that was so evident in these strong and faithful people.

Thank you people of New Orleans for showing me just what it is that will lift me up no matter what comes my way: an intense and unwavering love for the Lord Jesus Christ.