A Review of the Basics

This week, I went back to school.

Well, for a few hours anyway. I joined a classroom of seniors at AAA in Dickson City for a Mature Driving Class for those 55 and over. Not only does taking this class reduce my car insurance premium by 5% but is tailored to meet the needs of those of us who are aging. I found it very helpful.

Here are a few things I learned:

• Drive with your headlights on at all times, regardless of the time of day.
• A driver's hands should be positioned at or between the 9 & 3 and 8 & 4 positions on the steering wheel.
• By age 60, drivers need three times as much light to see as they did at age 20.
• Incidents of road rage increased 66% from 2017 to 2018.
• If you take your eyes off the road for just four seconds while traveling 60-65 mph, you travel 100 yards during that time (the length of a football field). Taking your eyes off the road is virtually the same as driving blindfolded!

As one of the youngest in the class, the thing that impressed me was the teachable-ness of the class members.

We never know it all. Guidelines change. Cars change. We change. This rings true in other areas besides driving. We require a review of the basics and would benefit from a refresher course. We need a few reminders.

In his second letter, the apostle Peter wrote, "Therefore I intend always to remind you of these qualities (from verses 5-7), though you know them and are established in the truth that you have" (2 Peter 1:12). And what were these qualities? Faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection, and love. And they come with a promise: "If you practice these qualities you will never fall" (verse10). 

If we're not intentional in our focus, how easy to find ourselves absorbed in our own interests, in our disappointments, and in our shortcomings instead of "[making] every effort" to incorporate the characteristics listed in Peter's letter. Maybe this is a good time for all of us to go back to school for a refresher course - with a teachable spirit, knowing God gives us His grace in all things. 

*Photos from bing.com/images/free to use

When Mothers Pray . . .

September was just around the corner when a flyer tucked in the church bulletin caught my eye. 

A local chapter of Moms in Prayer International was holding a weekly prayer meeting during the school year. Their mission? "To impact children and schools worldwide for Christ by gathering mothers to pray." Their vision? "That every school in the world would be covered with prayer."

I read the entire flyer several times, thinking about our youngest daughter who had just graduated from a small classical K - 8 Christian school that spring and was heading to the public high school in just a few days. I didn't know how the prayer time was set up or who was coming, but I decided she needed the extra prayer support - and, truth be told, so did I.

Seven Septembers later, I am still meeting to pray Moms-in-Prayer style!

From Moms in Prayer Website

The ancient patriarch, Job, prayed for his children (Job 1:4-5). And often I have prayed that, above all else, my children would walk in truth (3 John 4). Moms in Prayer has been a way to intercede for my children and grandchildren, linking arms with others with the same desire. 

Here's a look at our hour-long prayer times:

Each week the leader prints out a prayer sheet. We take turns reading Scripture verses that share an attribute of God. Right away our minds are focused on who God is. Then we pray sentence prayers in this order:

PRAISE: praising God for who He is, His attributes, His name or His character.
CONFESSION: silently confessing our sins to the God who forgives.
THANKSGIVING: thanking God for what He has done.
INTERCESSION: coming to God on behalf of others. 
     Each mom chooses one child for that day. We each place our child's name in a selected Scripture verse and pray that verse for our student, then go on to pray for specific needs. Each mom around the table prays for this child. Then another mom prays for her child in the same way, and others pray for this child, etc.
     We then pray for teachers/staff for our specific school(s).
     We remember specific school concerns.
     We end our time praying for the ministry of Moms in Prayer.

From Moms in Prayer Websit

Our times of prayer have been sweet. There's something strengthening about knowing that throughout the week others are praying for my child while I'm praying for theirs. We've seen God answer over and over again. His faithfulness has been overwhelming! And it's a wonderful way to make new friends around a common passion.

If you're looking for a unique way to pray for your children, I invite you to consider Moms in Prayer. God invites us to His throne of grace (Hebrews 4:14-16). He hears our prayers . . . and our hearts.
     

"We Read to Know We Are Not Alone" (C.S. Lewis).

Have you noticed the Little Free Libraries popping up here and there? Here's the idea. Take a book. Leave a book. Nurture the love of reading. Promote a sense of community.

I took the top two photos in our town on Depot Street near the new pocket park and the bottom photo in Michigan this past summer. All three stand proudly by the roadside, offering books to passers-by. These tiny libraries come in all shapes and sizes. As unique treasure houses, they represent the spirit of freedom, the love of learning . . . and the beauty of story.

If you study a person's reading list or peruse his or her bookshelves, you understand him better. As I've poured over my late husband's volumes of books, I've gotten to know him in a new way. Sounds strange, I know, but as I've read his comments in the margins, his sticky notes pasted on random paragraphs, and his hand-written notes paper-clipped to various pages, I'm getting a feel for his thoughts and opinions on a variety of topics as he interacted with what he read.

Authors introduce us to new ideas. They broaden our thinking and help us see beyond ourselves. They challenge us to reach higher, to see farther.

Good stories do the same things in a little different way. How many times have we identified with various protagonists? We feel their vulnerability and watch them face their fears. By the last page, we take their strengths with us to conquer our own fears. We better understand our relationships. We find ourselves blessed with hope, often against all odds. Reading helps us gather the courage we need to follow through on our resolve. 

C.S. Lewis wrote, "We read to know we are not alone." 

So why do you read? And what have you been reading lately? Perhaps a nearby Little Free Library will offer just the right book!   

Scrawled on the Back of a File Folder . . .

Some years ago, I found the following poem hanging on the wall in a waiting room and copied it down on the only paper I had with me - the back of a file folder. I could find no author's name. I filed it away and just recently ran across it. Perhaps some good thoughts to consider as a new school year begins . . .

Help Me Grow



bing.com

Please

Be consistent with me,

Then I can trust your words and actions.

 

Comfort me when I'm scared, hurt, or sad,

Then I'll know I'm okay even when I'm not feeling strong or happy.

 

Take responsibility for all your feelings and actions,

Then I also won't blame others and I'll take responsibility for my life.

 

Communicate when you feel hurt or frightened or angry,

Then I'll learn how to constructively deal with my feelings.

Tell me clearly and specifically what you want,
Then I can hear you and I'll also know how to
communicate my needs in a positive way.

Express to me that I'm okay
Even when my words or behavior may not be,
Then I can learn from my mistakes and have healthy self-esteem.

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Balance your life between work and play,
Then I can believe that I can grow up,
be responsible, and still have fun.

Remember what you wanted when you were my age,
Then you'll better understand my needs and interests.

Understand and accept me.
I may be different from you and that's okay.

Treat me as an individual,
Then I'll know that I can be my unique self.

Hug me and tell me that you care about me,
Then I'll feel lovable and I'll express caring to others.

Thank you for hearing me.
I love you!

bing.com

 

The Making of a Man

On May 15, 2015, I lost my best friend . . . my husband, my confidant, my true love for nearly forty years.

Even after he stepped over the threshold into the heavenlies, I learned a few things about him I didn't know before. Close to 500 people came to the visitation and/or memorial service. Many of them told me stories of their connections with Barry. Over and over again I heard the words, "kind," "gentle," "a good man." What a legacy he left us all.

After everyone found their way home after the service, my sister stayed a few more days. She helped me clean bathrooms and floors, launder sheets and towels, and make up beds.

After Barb and I finished in "our" room, Barry's bedside stand caught my attention. I dropped to the floor to take a closer look. Stuffed into the bottom section and spilling onto the floor, I noticed a large print Bible, his guidebook for life. I  found titles such as Composers on Music, A Gospel Primer for Christians, The Consolation of Philosophy, The Secret of Father Brown, Dialogues of Fenelon, Hearing God, and The Lazy Gardener. I also discovered a small book of Norman Rockwell prints, a 2011 anniversary card I had given him, a couple of textbooks he ordered to keep up with Elisabeth in English this past year, and a treasury of Curious George stories in Spanish.

I leaned my back against the bed to take it all in, then said to my sister, "This is the perfect snapshot of Barry's life. All these interests packed into one small space . . into one small life . . . that he lived out in a BIG way to touch many lives."

With intention, I left the "picture" just as you see it here. Somehow it represents the story of a man with an undeniable quest for learning. And the making of a man who shared his quest with whoever wanted to join him on the journey. 

I have a feeling, I'll be learning a few more things about Barry as I sift through his piles of papers and file folders, the 3 x 5 cards from his pockets, and his library of books.

I love you, Barry. And miss you more than words can express.

A Great Story: Dark Enough to See the Stars

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I love a great story, don't you? Few pastimes offer more pleasure than a mug of hot tea, a cozy blanket, and a riveting story while the wind whooshes through the trees outside and rain pelts shivering windows. There's something special about cuddling a sleepy child in a rocking chair for a bedtime story or reading aloud to the kids under the backyard maple tree on an Indian summer day. "Please, Mom, just one more chapter? Please?"

I'm one of those parents who took my girls to the library and surrounded them with books. Seems we always had a book going. All three of them are still readers.

Stories have the potential to give us new ideas . . . and perspective. Like a magic carpet, they bring us to another time and place, yet we often learn about our present lives and take away courage and inspiration.

Award-winning author, Cindy Noonan, has written a wonderful novel for children, ages 10 to 13. "Dark Enough to See the Stars tells the fictional account of twelve-year-old Moses, who runs away on the Underground Railroad. Bloodhounds chase him as he follows the North Star to Pennsylvania. Before his mother was sold to a plantation in the Deep South, she had taught him to find the star. She had told him, “Never forget, Mose, you is named after Moses in the Bible. Someday you is goin’ to the Promised Land, just like he did.” Fueled by his mother’s hopes for his freedom, Moses is determined to reach Canada." Read more about the book from Cindy's website.

Cindy and I belong to the same writers' group. Our circle of writers read this story chapter by chapter. At every meeting, we couldn't wait to read the next "installment." Cindy has researched the Underground Railroad thoroughly and brought a story to life that any middle grader will love. He or she will take away an appreciation for freedom and for the sacrifices of many good people along the way. 

So, if you're looking for a good read for the family that offers history with a heartbeat, take a look. Dark Enough to See the Stars is available on Amazon.

Reflections From a Button Box

Last week, my dad noticed one of his shirt buttons missing, one belonging to his button-down collar. "I dug around and found Mom's button jar," he told me. "And I think I found two that match pretty well."

Dear Dad. Nine months ago now, Mom slipped into a better world, leaving behind her husband of over 56 years. She'd be proud of him. When I go over to the house, I notice that he's kept up their cleaning routine along with all the other housekeeping chores they did together. He's learning to cook a little, and he even irons his shirts. Thus, the missing button discovery.

The next day, when he came for dinner, he brought his shirt and two buttons. My button box did not reveal anything better, but as I threaded a needle my mind flooded with memories.

"Do you know where this tin box came from?" I asked Dad. The next few minutes found us chatting about our next door neighbor, a dear sweet lady who always spoke a kind word. She'd given my sister and I Peanut Butter Puffs for Christmas one year - and I kept the tin. A perfect place to collect buttons. Then I shared this story:

During sixth grade

when the bus stopped at the corner for the first time

and locker-lined hallways stretched on like railroad tracks

and first period swimming lessons became mandatory . . .

During sixth grade

when boys and girls found themselves caught between

sunny days of kickball and clouded contests of relationship and SATs,

when girls went back and forth between sneakers and high heels . . .

Mr. Heaton taught science.

It seemed a day like any other

except he tore a piece of paper into square bits

and sprinkled them like white confetti on the floor.

"So the cleaning lady has something to do."

As my eyes followed the last of the fluttering cascade,

I thought of the only cleaning lady I knew, the lady who lived next door.
With snowy hair, too-thick glasses, and a smile

that warmed you like hot cocoa on a chilly day,

she walked to the neighborhood elementary school every afternoon.

Mom said she worked hard.

During sixth grade, 
a shadow fell.

I took off my sneakers. 

"I'll never forget that day," I told my dad. "I guess part of growing up is realizing that people don't always live up to our expectations. Even people who are supposed to be role models."

I finished the sewing job, then added, "Every time I get out my button box, I think of Mrs. B. and that day in my sixth grade science class."

Expectations. They're tricky, I think. Shouldn't we have some expectations, especially of people in responsible positions? Yet, we're all human . . . very human. We often find ourselves disappointed in each other - and even in ourselves. Would you agree?

Perhaps the writer of Psalm 62 grappled with expectations when he wrote, "My soul, wait only upon God . . . for my hope and expectation are from Him. He only is my Rock and my Salvation; He is my Defense and my Fortress, I shall not be moved" (verses 5, 6, The Amplified Bible).  

Reflections from a button box . . . What comes to your mind when you think of expectations?

Home Town News Story

It's not every day you see an article about your home town on the front page. On Saturday morning when I retrieved the newspaper, I glanced at the headlines like I always do, and there on the left side, "West Seneca, N. Y." grabbed my attention. I learned that Winchester Elementary School now houses a robot that allows a young student  with life-threatening allergies to attend school from home. The very school my sister and I attended in the 1960s. We lived close enough to walk.

Winchester Elementary School

I can still see the long wide hallways and the quiet library with dark wooden tables and chairs where the librarian read It's Like This Cat. I can hear the lunchroom monitors banging their trays on the tables when it became too noisy. We bought milk for three cents, peanut butter cookies for a nickel, and ice cream for a dime.

In first grade, Miss Pinjack made me write sentences for dirty fingernails. ("But I was playing in the sandbox.") She also taught us the principle of evaporation by using a red pen to mark the decreasing water line on a clear drinking glass.We made silhouettes one year and played with a huge ROY-G-BIV parachute in gym. Much to my mother's dismay, we learned the new math. When I didn't know my multiplication tables by fifth grade, she patiently tried to drill them into my head. "7 x 8 is 56. See? 5 - 6 - 7 - 8."

I did pretty well in school. But I loved music class and chorus. With a beehive of graying hair, Mrs. Nixon played the piano as we sang from graded music books in the sunny classroom at the end of the short hall. My sister and I laughed through these songs as we did dishes in the evenings:

Come and hear the German Band, German Band, German Band.

Oh, the weather is so grand for the big parade.

First there comes the drummer, and as a drummer, he's quite a plumber.

He's off the beat on every number, and no one knows how come

They let him drum! 

Our concerts made a lasting impression on me. In the turbulence of the 1960s, we sang "Let There Be Peace on Earth," "Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor," and "No Man is an Island." At the time, I didn't recognize the significance of the lyrics, but they somehow struck a chord in my heart, and I've remembered them word for word all these years.

I'd love to go back to Winchester Elementary School, to walk those familiar hallways once more. To peek into my classrooms and wander around the playground. And just maybe I would meet a four foot robot careening down the hallway at the end of a line of second graders. All going to Music in the sunny classroom at the end of the short hall.

What stories do you remember from elementary school?