Teachers, Get Ready!

Dear Teachers,

     As this school year begins my thoughts drift back to the final days of last school term.

          Testing.  Last minute science fair projects.  Field trips.

     All were important and some rewarding and fun.  However, none of those events can hold a candle to the most important day of all - FIELD DAY!
     Ah, yes ... That is the day it all comes together - a day of fun, sweat and -maybe- tears!  A day in which the students get to show what they've got and compete for the first place prize, whether that is just a ribbon or a class ice-cream party.  A day for parents to come and support their children and take pictures.  Lots of pictures!
     I was one of those parents, camera in hand, ready to cheer on my child and his classmates.  I even photographed children of friends, especially if I knew the parent could not be present.  As the camera shutter snapped, my eye caught something and I paused in reflection.  It was the last event of the competition - the infamous Tug-Of-War battle!  As the students lined up along side the rope their teachers were already excited and encouraging them.  The kids were hot and tired after a good hour and a half of activities, but this was IT!  This was the defining moment.
     As the students took hold of the rope, teachers on either side of the pink flag began shouting and firing their "babies" up!  The signal fired and the tugging began!  I watched these same teachers - professionals, mind you - morph into loud, exuberant, yelling machines.  Their body language was not that of desks and podiums and decorum.  They were "hunkered down" getting in the faces of those rascals with a tenacity not often seen in the classroom - but always felt in their hearts.

          And a lump lodged in my throat.

     I realized that what many saw as a comical moment was actually an incredible picture of what these teachers do all year long.  For many in the profession it was a living visual of their entire career.

          "Come on!"
          "You can do this!"
          "PULL!"
          "GO!"
          "You've got this!"
          "DON'T STOP!"
          "Keep pulling!"
          "I LOVE YOU!"

     Pause here.  Breathe.  Wipe the tears.

     My camera shifted focus from the students to these fearless leaders, trying to capture their heart and energy.  Some of those pictures are posted with this piece.  (Teacher friends, you can kill me later!).
     Here we are at the beginning of a new school term.  Everything that is about to commence is the ultimate tug-of-war.  You will work, encourage and fight to get the best out of our children!  You will come up against obstacles - some easy and some that may seem insurmountable.  Some students may seem like the Hula-Hut competition where you have to get the parts to balance so he or she can stand tall.  Some are like the relays - always going, going, going - overachievers that run hard for first place.  Some kids are the rescuers in the Rescue Relay - always finding ways to help someone else.  Some of your students will be the ones that wander off for a heaping cup of Kona-Ice - just before their next event.  They'll show up in the nick-of-time, out of breath, but needing your encouragement all the same.  You will have some students that resemble the Balloon Pop with personalities that BURST onto the scene, never short of laughter.  You will have skilled students whose mental coordination resembles the Jump Rope Relay - once they hit their stride, they charge forward!  And you will have students that are the picture of the Water Balloon Toss - you can see the fear and uncertainty in their eyes.  But because you smile and keep your cool you watch as that fear turns into excitement and confidence.
     And then .... you watch as each of these precious hearts and minds stride up to the rope.  Some have come prepared with gloved hands and their game face.  Some will just be hanging on for dear life!  But they will not cower down.  They will take that rope and look their competition in the eye with such determination and courage.  And you will "hunker down" and shout their send-off with the passionate battle cry they have heard all school year long - "YOU CAN DO IIIIIITTTTTTTTTT!"

     Thank you, teachers.  Thank you, fearless captains.  Enter this new year knowing we love you and pray for you.  As you prepare your classrooms, we know the children aren't the only ones with butterflies in their tummies.  But you know something?  You've got this!

          PULL!  Pull out of your students their very best!
          TUG!  Tug their hearts as much as their minds!  For some, THAT will be the lasting impact of your legacy.
          DON'T STOP!  Don't give up, even with the toughest child.  If all you can do with some is assure them of your belief in them, you have done your job well.
          WE LOVE YOU, TOO!  Thank you for nurturing and educating our children and for loving them and what you do!  It doesn't go unnoticed.

     Now .... let's go get some ice-cream!

 

Just Click Your Heels

     At our last visit to the library, my daughter picked out an animated dvd of "The Wizard of Oz."  She has become a fan of the original movie and was even "Dorofy" when trick-or-treating this past year.  To my surprise, she didn't object when the animated version of the story, while rather condensed, followed closer to the book than the Judy Garland movie.  She seemed just as intrigued with the story line.  As usual, I rarely have time to watch dvds with the children, but boy do I hear them!  Over and over again!  I can recite lines from some of the kids' videos as accurately as they can!
     This particular video made me chuckle, though.  While I was busy in the kitchen I could hear the dialogue.  It was at the part just after the "wizard" flew away in his balloon on his lonesome, leaving poor Dorothy behind.  Cue Glinda!  She appears and you know the story.  All Dorothy has to do is click her heels together three times.  That's it!  I chuckled because my mind went racing back to a scene from a comedy show where the cast acts out this scene, however, in their version, Dorothy doesn't take the news so well.  She has a moment to let it sink in and then verbally tears into Glinda with shouts of, "WHAT??!!!  That's IT?!  That's all I had to do!  You mean to tell me I could have gone home the MINUTE I arrived?!"  And with that she has an all out brawl with the good witch of the North.  Handfuls of red hair, Glinda in a head lock.  Dorothy wasn't very lady like!
     In the original movie, all Judy Garland's Dorothy gets is a sweet smile and a pixie dust glazed over look.  But, in this scrappy animated flick, the explanation is much better.  Glinda responds, "Had you never taken your journey, your new friends would have never discovered their own gifts."
     That'll preach.  In our Bible study (Sunday School) classes at church, we have been discussing the gifts of the Spirit for a few weeks.  We have had open discussions about why we have them, why they are important, etc.  I think Glinda's answer also weighs heavy here.  God takes each of us when we profress Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior on our own unique journey - one that fulfills His plan for us, one that ultimately fulfills our part in His kingdom, one that brings complete glory to Him!  The path is not always the easiest, and as Christians, I dare say it shouldn't be.  To say we might experience "bumps" along the road as Christians is an understatement.  It is bound to happen!  We are either in a crisis, coming out of a crisis, or heading to a crisis!  Along the way, we will touch the lives of others.  What will our impact be?
     If it is one that honors the Lord, it will help others find their own way.  It may be to help someone find the hope in Jesus their heart was longing for.  It may be to bring struggling or new Christians along and help them discover their own unique gifts.  It may be to come alongside someone who is hurting and our compassion and understanding is most perfect for them because we have been through the same trials.
     We can whine and complain all day long about the troubles we find ourselves in.  Here, allow me to stop and sing, "Nobody knows.... the trouble I seen ...." or what about, "Gloom, despair, and agony on me (whoaarghhh)..deep, dark, depression, excessive misery (whoaarghhh)..if it weren't fer bad luck, I'd had no luck at all (whoaarghhh)..gloom, despair, and agony on me."  Feel better?  No?
     OR!  We can accept the incredible journey God has placed us on and acknowledge with a courageous heart that He has called us to be salt and light (Matthew 5).  Imagine the lives we can be allowed to impact if only we are faithful!  Clicking your heels together three times may be the equivalent of voluntarily sitting on the sidelines.  Is that really what you want your legacy to be?  Sure, had Dorothy been told from the start, she could have gone home (woke up) immediately.  But the Scarecrow would still be stuck on a nail in a post, the tin man would still be rusting, with that empty place where a heart should be, growing all the more cold, and the Lion would still be hiding in the forest, afraid of his own shadow, never knowing his true purpose.  Dorothy would have never chosen her journey, but unbeknownst to her, there were others that needed her.

     So what about you?  Ready to throw in the towel and click your heels together?  Or perhaps, you're up for a great adventure?!  I'm sure there are those who are waiting for you to come along.

When Life Comes Full Circle

     The week is finally coming to an end and Christmas is just around the corner.  Soon we'll be gathering the kids and heading off to my parents' for Christmas Eve and they will be tearing into presents Christmas morning.  It will come and go, just like any other year.  And then we will celebrate the New Year, make resolutions we won't keep, and school will begin again.  The older I get, the more it seems like I just live.  Things seem to change when one no longer has the perspective of a child.  There is a lack of joy, anticipation, excitement, wonder.  What is interesting is that we have the ability to remember how it once used to be.  We don't just remember being a kid, but we remember how it felt.  I can remember the giddy excitement I had as a girl on Christmas Eve, almost too excited to sleep!  Now, I "stay up with the Pope" as my parents used to say.  I never understood what they meant until one Christmas when I was still up in the wee hours of the morning, the tv quietly on in background, wrapping gifts, putting a tricycle together, when I noticed the televised mass.  I laughed to myself as it dawned on me and nodded to myself, "So that's what they were talking about."  Now, I'm the parent staying up while my rascals try to sleep just a few feet away down the hall.  Full circle.
     I thought I had realized what that meant.  However, it wasn't until just after Christmas last year that it truly found meaning for me.  This time last year, I was visiting my grandmother in the hospital.  She had been living for the last few years in a nursing care facility/assisted living, but now, her health had taken a downward spiral, and the once tough little lady that used to bounce back from hospital stays just didn't have the strength to do so any longer.  I went to see her a few times while she was there, once just after a Christmas dinner at church.  She was awake and we briefly spoke.  She was alert and enjoyed hearing about the dinner.  She was tired, though, and would drift off to sleep in the middle of our conversation.  She roused one more time, we said our "I love yous" and I headed out.  I held it together until I was inside the elevator.  Once the doors slid shut, I cried.  Something inside made me know that would probably be the last conversation I had with her.  I could sense that things were coming to an end, at least an earthly end. 
     My grandmother, my Bubba, loved Jesus.  Yes, I said Bubba.  Some people have Nana's and Mimi's and Memaw's...I had a Bubba!  It's a southern thing.  And my Bubba loved the Lord with all her heart!  She wasn't a perfect human being.  If you can find one, let me know, will you?  But she wanted to serve the Lord and lead her family to do the same.  My Pop passed away in 1979.  I'm not sure what kind of spiritual leader he was, though.  I was only eight when he passed, and his job as a truck driver kept him on the road alot.  I didn't have the time to really get to know him well.  However, I do remember going to church with he and my Bubba.  I remember going to the Albany Gospel Chapel and then eating at Red Lobster afterwards.  I remember sitting in his lap at their home and eating peaches.  But it is my grandmother that I remember being the one to talk to me about Jesus. 
     It was to their house that I came home from the hospital after I was born.  My father was in the Air Force and out of the State, and my mother had moved back in with them.  I spent the first three years of my life with their home as mine.  Things grew tense between my father and mother and they soon divorced.  I think I only saw my father on a couple of occasions, but because he had been absent, I was shy, kind of scared of him, it was like meeting a stranger.  (On a brighter note, I now have a wonderful and growing relationship with him!  God is good!).  As a result, my Bubba stepped in and did everything she could to make certain I had a solid foundation with the Lord.  She made sure I was at church every Sunday and that I learned to say my prayers.  She did it by example, taking the time each night to pray with me.  Even after my mom remarried and we moved out, any time I would go on overnight visits to Bubba's she would end the evening by praying with me.  She would also sing.  We would lay there and sing hymns and songs I had learned at church.  One of her favorites went like, "He paid a debt He did not owe, I owed a debt I could not pay, I needed someone to wash my sins away...and now I sing a brand new song, Amazing Grace the whole day long, Christ Jesus paid the debt that I could never pay."  I can hear her sing it, even now.  She wasn't a great singer, but a believing one!  She sang from her heart.  It was always a special time to lay there and sing praises with her.  And then she would read the Bible.  I often fell asleep listening to her read from the scriptures.  As I grew older, she still sang and read the Bible to me.  It wasn't until I became an older teen and finally a college student that our night time tradition began to phase out of my evening routine.  Not out of my life, mind you.  It was firmly planted in me, but just not doing it with her any longer.   I would lie in bed, though, and still listen to her pray in her own bedroom.  She covered everyone in the family!  These would not be, "God bless Jackie, God bless Rachel, God bless Sue," kind of prayers, though.  She started with her children and would pray specifically for them, even if she didn't know a specific need at the time, her prayer was unique for that child.  Then she would move on to the grandchildren.  Each grandchild and her family were prayed over.  She prayed about health, babies, and salvation.  And I would fall asleep, listening to her just about each night, as I had moved back in with her while attending college. 
     A few years later, I would marry...and a few months after that, so would she!  I can not tell you how delighted I was that God provided someone for her in her old age to be with her as I moved out.  My greatest fear in getting married was leaving her alone.  But the December after my own wedding, she married an old hometown friend.  It would be her first church wedding (she and my Pop eloped!).  Grandaddy, as we soon called her new husband, Everette, was a perfect match for her and took care of her...until his own passing in December 2004.  She once again lived on her own a while longer, but it was difficult.  Macular degeneration had taken most of her eyesight.  Her health began declining.  And then came the hard decision of moving her to an assisted living home.  We didn't have an extra bedroom, and my mother's home only had one staircase, a spiral metal staircase.  All the bedrooms were upstairs and it would be too hard for my grandmother to climb up and down.  Over the past few years, her trips to the hospital became more frequent.  She was finally moved into a nursing facility close to my home, in fact, it was adjacent to our subdivision.  I was able to see her more and take the children over.  But her health just wouldn't bounce back as it had before.  She seemed pretty strong there for a while, even for being over 90 years of age.  Yet, suddenly, her body grew tired, and her Lord said, "It's time."
     Her last days in the hospital were hard to watch.  She moaned alot and it was rhythmic.  One night, I came to see her and she was alone.  My mom had just left only minutes before, so I had some time to spend with her privately.  I opened the drawer in the stand by her bed and took out the Gideon Bible hidden there.  I began reading to her from the Psalms.  Her breathing seemed to soften, relax a little, and the moaning quieted.  I continued to read.  I went to Revelation and read to her John's description of what he saw of Heaven.  "Oh, Bubba....it's going to be so beautiful!  Just rest, go to sleep, and go Home!  It's okay.  We're okay.  Your children know the Lord, and your children's children know the Lord.  It's okay." 
     And then it happened.  The memories from my childhood of laying in bed with her, praying, reading, and singing.  I relived every moment standing right there by her hospital bed.  I took her withered hand and just rubbed it softly.  In the quietness, I began to sing.  "Jesus loves me this I know....for the Bible tells me so...."  She became more alert and opened her eyes and listened.  When I came to the chorus, she began singing, as loud as her lungs would let her, "Yes, Jesus loves me!  Yes, Jesus loves me!  Yes, Jesus loves me!  for the Bible tells me so."  Then she spoke.  "Jesus always loves you.  He always loves you.  Jesus always loves you." 
     "I know..." I whispered, through the tears.  Then we sang some more and had to include the song she liked so much, He Paid a Debt.  It was then that I knew the time in my life with my Bubba had come full circle.  My little life began at her home and she read the Bible to me, prayed with me, and sang to me.  Now, her well lived, 93 year old earthly life was coming to an end...it was my turn to read, and pray, and sing to her, with her.  Needless to say, it was a bittersweet, rather beautiful night. 
     By the next day, she was moaning again, and not really talking at all.  The doctor said they could do no more, and she was moved back to the nursing facility to wait.  It was New Year's Day.  I rode my bicycle over to the home and stayed with her that morning, listening to her moan, and playing her favorite on the cd player - Elvis.  The gospel songs, of course!  I let my oldest son come see her, even though I knew it would be difficult.  Mama arrived and followed him home and returned.  "It's going to be raining, soon.  You might want to ride your bike home and get your van."  I had been there hours already and agreed.  My younger sister arrived and I hugged her on the way out.  'I'll be right back.  I'm just going to grab a bite to eat."  Twenty minutes later, I was heading back to the nursing home as it began to rain, just about to turn into the driveway when my phone rang.  I knew.  The minute it rang, I knew.  "Hey," my sister began through quiet tears, "she just passed."  I parked and headed in.  For just a brief moment I was almost mad at myself for leaving.  I knew I couldn't do that to myself, though.  In light of eternity, seeing her pass away was not as much of a priority as seeing her again will be!  For, I will see her again!  She made certain of that!  Her relentless prayers for me (for us all, dear family) had come to fruition and because I have placed my trust in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, then I will see my beloved grandmother again, when we live together in Heaven!  Still, I miss her.  This year has had many firsts.  First birthdays without her there, first Thanksgiving without her saying, "Ooh, I'm full!  I can't eat another bite."  And then she'd go on to eat a second helping!  My second born, Braveheart the Wild, gave his heart to the Lord this year.  I immediately wanted to call her, and cried when I couldn't.  Nevertheless, I'm sure she knows.  And now, our first Christmas without her.  I miss my Bubba.
     I missed her last breath.  But I sang with her her last song......... here!  Full circle.  Full heart.  I love you, Bubba!  I can't wait to see you again....and sing with you once more.

  

To Be Found Faithful

     I was just a college kid and I needed a job.  Tough times didn't allow my parents much opportunity to help me financially back then and my grades and SAT scores didn't swing the doors open either.  If I was to attend college, it would have to be local and I would have to finance it.  I was directed to see a lady at the college who helped place students in jobs.  Her name was Nancy Goode and I had only recently met her at the church I had just started attending.  She greeted me with her beautiful smile and after a short talk said she had just the job.  Her husband worked at the Labor Department and needed a secretary, but I had to talk to him first.  So, I went, half excited and half scared.  What if he didn't like me...regardless if his wife did?  I didn't know what to expect, but who I met that day was a kind, easy going gentleman, who was more concerned about my spiritual welfare than anything else.  The interview portion of our visit didn't last long as it soon turned into just talking about my life...and Jesus!  Mr. Goode, as I called him then, made me feel at ease.  It was like talking to someone I had known all my life, like a close relative or a dear family friend.  We connected instantly and I left the office that day as his new secretary. 
     It didn't take long for "Mr. Goode"  to become "Mr. Tommy."  For the next six and a half years we worked closely..sometimes as two peas in a pod, and at others as Clash of the Titans!  We disagreed on our filing system the most and re-did it countless times.  Most of the time the case files stayed in stacks under my desk.  Our job, rather, Mr. Tommy's job, was to collect restitution to the State from those who fraudulently took unemployment insurance benefits.  If the person would not pay back the money or stalled, the next step was to seek an arrest and take them to court.  I said "our job" only because Tommy had hopes that if another field agent position opened up, I would be already trained (with the exception of having a badge for court appearances) and could easily take the job.  I handled most of the case files that involved cooperative people, while he took on those who were beligerent about their situation.  Often they were the ones who would make office visits, probably hoping to talk Mr. Tommy into giving them more time or letting them off the hook.  What they didn't know was that what awaited them was far more important than a simple office visit. 
     Tommy Goode loved Jesus.  And he loved to share Jesus with everyone he met.  His job at the GDOL was to pay the bills.  His real occupation was to tell others about Jesus, at every given opportunity.  His office was just a place to do it on a regular basis!  A person would come and sit on the small sofa in his office and talk about how they didn't know what they did was wrong.  He'd listen and explain to them just how wrong they actually were and discuss payment plans.  Once the business at hand was completed, he'd turn the conversation to a personal talk and before long, he'd get up to close the office door.  Just before doing so, he would lean around the doorway to my desk and give me the "signal."  It was just a quick gesture with his hands to let me know to be praying at that moment.  More times than not, the person in his office walked away a new creation in Christ Jesus!  Tommy would have that look on his face, that twinkle in his eye, knowing that God was glorified once again!  He loved to share with people how Jesus could change their life.  He loved it!  He didn't wait for opportunity, he often created the opportunity!  He got together with a close friend at one time and made a little booklet.  It was simply the Gospel of John in a burgandy binder and on the inside cover was the title "Not For Sale."  It was his way of sharing that grace and salvation were free!  Monday nights would find him attending church visitation or CWT, a witness training visit.  He also had the chance to go to Russia...just to do what he loved best...tell others about Jesus. 
     During those years, I leaned on his guidance often.  He always took time to listen if I needed to talk and would pray, not just for me, but with me.  Not many people can say that about their boss.  But he was more than a boss.  He was a friend and a mentor.  He was a protector and an encourager.  He was quick to praise and just as quick to chastise me.  Whether it be my attitude or my hair cut... he didn't hold back his opinion!  I recall when I got my hair cut really short, he politely said it looked okay....for a boy!  He gave opinions about my wardrobe, my perfume, my dating choices!  There were even a few times he tried to play cupid!  He was certainly proud of me, though, when true love finally did happen and my "fellow" soon became my husband.  He was proud that I didn't compromise and settle for just any guy, and his approval of my David meant so much.  I asked him if he would play his saxaphone at our wedding (oh, he was a wonderful musician and singer!).  He agreed and recruited fellow/former band mate, Stan, to play the keyboards, and for one of the songs, his son Tracy sang lead.  I was told after the wedding by a relative that it was the best wedding ceremony music they had ever heard!  And it was indeed beautiful!  What was incredible to me was that all he and Stan had was a cassette of the songs I wanted.  No sheet music.  They just listened to the song and played it as if they had written it!  Yes, he was that good!
     Other than Jesus and his family and music (and perhaps his dogs!) I would say hunting and fishing ranked rather high for him!  Much of my field agent training came on his hunting and fishing days!  And, of course, he would often take along someone who needed to know about Jesus!  He was just like that.  He would find someone to pour into.  At times, it came with a price - broken trust, a wounded heart, discouragement.  But during the time he spent with that individual, he did all he could to help them.  He would take time to teach them about Jesus and help them learn how to study the Word.  He would provide advice and guidance, even putting himself in harm's way to help them.  Tommy had a God given boldness to do whatever it took to reach out to them and draw them away from the darkness that held them captive.  For him, love was indeed an action word, and he put it in action time and again!
     I look back on those years as his "Girl Friday" as he liked to call me.  (He also liked to call me Blank, but I won't talk about that!)  We probably spent most of our down time talking.  About what?  Anything and everything!  We studied the Bible together (yes, and on government property!), shared life stories and learned life lessons, cried some, prayed alot, and laughed so much!  He had a great laugh!  My "dumb blonde" antics had him in stitches quite often (hence the nickname, Blank!).  I didn't mind getting his coffee (even though a fellow female co-worker chastised me for doing so), and he often got mine!  And he would include me on lunch dates with his supervisors when they came to town (Aunt Fanny's every time!).  Tommy was probably the best boss a college student could ask for, as he always gave me time to study, permission to listen to great music, great preaching....and Rush Limbaugh!  Yes, there were those days when he'd have me wanting to pull every last strand of my hair out!  But he more than made up for it when he treated me as his own!  He called me "kiddo" alot or "my girl"  or "my kid."  I looked up to him as any daughter would her dad.
     The past 13 years have found me busy.  Often too busy.  Of that I am convinced.  I resigned in October of 1998 in order to attend college full time.  I was newly married and it wasn't long before our first child was born.  I saw Mr. Tommy some, at first, but as the years rolled by, the visits became less.  His health began getting bad and I kept telling myself that I needed to see him.  I finally decided I would write him.  I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me and how his involvement in my life was not a coincidence, it wasn't fate or chance - it was intended by God.  I wanted him to know that he had made such a lasting impact on my life, that the lessons he taught me, I teach to my own children.  I thought of sitting at the computer and typing it out, but decided a hand written letter would be better.  I thought about it again this past Saturday, and decided that as soon as I had the chance to sit down with a few minutes I would do it.
     Tommy went home to be with the Lord Sunday morning.  I never wrote the letter.  I'm sure he knew how I felt about he and Nancy both....but still, I wanted to tell him.  Tommy Goode wasn't just someone I knew.  He stepped in and was like a father to me back then.  He deserved to hear that.  But I won't dwell on it.  As a follower of Jesus Christ, and as Tommy's little sister in the faith, I know that I will see him again...and I'll be able to thank him.  I saw his body in a casket tonight, but Tommy's story has not ended.  In fact, it has just begun!  The only thing that has ended is his suffering.  I'll get to see my mentor and friend again.  It's not something I just hope about.  It's is something that I know for certain. 
     I remember the last day I worked at the Labor Department.  I was ready for a change.  I was ready to pursue my education.  But as I left, I found myself crying like a baby, as I made my final rounds, hugging necks, and saying goodbye.  And in a few hours, I will attend Tommy's funeral to do that again... to say goodbye.  Yes, it's a temporary goodbye.  But I would like the priviledge to say, honestly, it's never easy.  One thing that brings comfort is knowing that twinkle is gleaming in Tommy's eyes!  While we were receiving the sad news of his passing, he was hearing from the mouth of his Lord and Savior Jesus, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"  And, indeed, Tommy Goode most certainly was.

After His Death...A Best Seller Legacy

     Last month we learned of the passing of Steve Jobs, Apple co-founder, genious, sufferer of a rare form of pancreatic cancer.  It was a very sad day and the outpouring of sentiments that followed proved how much his genious touched the lives of people all over the world.  Facebook statuses scrolled with quotes from his speeches, people commenting how inspiring he was.  His death made the headlines.  Even if someone didn't know who Steve Jobs was before, they certainly knew by then.  Before the month was out, his authorized biography, originally scheduled to release in November, was released and was the New York Times #1 seller.  So much was said and reflected about his life, his contributions to society, and his enthusiasm for taking the bull by the horns and charging forward with life.  But as he charged, and as he encouraged others to do so, who was left behind?  There were those left to wait in the shadow of his success.  Not former employees.  Not former co-workers.  But, sadly, his children.
     Steve Jobs' personal history is one of fragmented families and the seemingly inability to prioritze one's personal life.  Born in 1955 to unmarried Abulfattah John Jandali and graduate student Joanne Schieble, they were afraid and felt that keeping their baby boy would have been shameful to their families.  Jobs was adopted, which is a bright spot in his story, but he never knew his biological parents nor ever attempted to contact them.  That is understandable.  People are different.  Some find comfort in knowing who their parents are, while others are content in just pressing on, allowing the past to remain there, and deciding to not look back.  His father, though, did express recently that he had tried to contact Jobs, but only by email.  In August, Mr. Jandali (80 year old, casino boss) said, "This might sound strange, but I am not prepared, even if either of us was on our deathbed to pick up the phone and call him.  Steve will have to do that as the Syrian pride in me does not want him to ever think I am after his fortune.  I am not.  I have my own money.  What I don't have is my son ... and that saddens me."  Sad, indeed.
     Of Jobs' four children, one was born out of wedlock by his highschool sweetheart, and it was two years after the baby's birth that he would accept her as his own - only after a blood test proved she was his.  He did get to know her and she even lived with him for a while.  Now 33, Lisa Brennan-Jobs said of the contrast of life with her father verses the simple life with her mother, "My father was rich and renowed, and later, as I got to know him, went on vacations with him, and then lived with him a few years, I saw another, more glamourous world."  Interesting, don't you think?  Her time with her father gave her a perspective on wealth, not a father/daughter relationship and what it could, or should, be.
     The now infamous authorized biography gives the reader an even clearer glimpse into Jobs' role as a father.  The mere reason for his approval of the biography was that he wanted his children to understand (after his death) why he wasn't there for them.  "I wanted my kids to know me,"  Jobs was quoted as saying by Walter Isaacson, author of the biography.  "I wasn't always there for them, and I wanted them to know why and to understand what I did."  The biography was called a "love letter" to his family.  Perhaps his children would have rather his life have been the love letter, instead, they get a book.  A tell-all explaining why he wasn't the father he could have been for them.  Not in order to comfort them, but for the purpose, and I again quote, "I wanted them to know why and understand what I did."  The legacy every child wishes for: dad puts in a book his attempt to justify why he wasn't there for me.  Gee, thanks dad. 
     Now, turn the pages of the newspaper, away from the front page headline and go about ten pages back.  A small obscure article.  It was in last week's paper, but you probably missed it.  Another individual passed away.  He, too, contributed to society, but in a much different way.  Five years after Steve Jobs was born, this man began drawing a well known and loved cartoon.  We know his characters well, at least those of us born before the effects of Jobs' technology took over our lives.  Characters like Billy, Jeffy, Dolly and P.J. and the unseen characters "Ida Know" and "Not Me."  Bil Keane, 89, creator of "Family Circus" passed away last week.  Nobody is quoting him or sharing his cartoons on Facebook.  As a kid, I always read his cartoon first!  Even before "Peanuts!"  I loved the trouble the kids would get themselves into and the tender and often funny moments of life lessons!  It was a sweet cartoon.  Simple.  It was that simplicity that Keane felt contributed to its staying power.  "It's reassuring, I think, to the American public to see the same family ... We are, in the comics, the last frontier of good, wholesome family humor and entertainment," Keane said. 
     However, I submit, that, although "Family Circus" was based on his own family, it won't be his comic strip that will be his legacy.  We probably won't read about him weeks, months, or even years after his passing ... but there is a group of people who will forever be inspired by him - his family.  There will be no need for an authorized biography to help his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren understand his life - to understand him, period.  There was no need to express through a published book for all the world to read what was whispered at bedtime, displayed through his choices, lived in front of his family, and said from his own lips:  I love you!  One of his son's was at his bedside the day he passed, but all of his five children, nine grandchildren, and his great-granddaughter were able to visit him the week before.  "He said, 'I love you' and that's what I said to him, which is a great way to go out," Jeff Keane said of the last conversation he had with his father.  "The great thing is Dad loved the family so much, so the fact that we all saw him, I think gave him great comfort and made his passing easy." 
     The Keane family will never have to wonder what life would have been like if their dad had made his family his priority.  Because he did just that, they will forever live with his legacy - one of kindness, humility, integrity, and love.  Their memories will be sweet.  His drawings and sketches cherished, because they were penned with his hand - the same hand that guided them and led them and ultimately taught them that they were the most important part of his life.  Nothing in the end to justify or explain.  All that needed to be said was heard just before his last breaths.
     I don't know about you - but that's what I want. I want my children to have a legacy to build their own lives upon.  I want to begin now creating that foundation for them.  I can't wait until things grow dark and weary and hire a writer to help me explain my misteps as a parent.  I want the "now."  I want the "now" to mess up and the "now" to make things right.  I want the "now" to seek the Lord so those mess-ups are few and far between.  I want the "now" to love on them and to assure them of my love.  I want the "now" to create memories they will always keep and cherish.  I don't want them to one day stand over my casket and wonder.  I don't want them to be at a loss when it comes to answering the question of how my life inspired them.  I don't want their memories of me to consist of voicemail messages and a life consumed by work.  The Keane family will always know, because they have the memories to back it up - not just a book that's a best seller.  My children will always know, too.  My work will be in making memories and a lasting legacy.  I would rather impact my children's hearts than thousands of lives around the world any given day.

If I Didn't Love You

     I can remember being a middle schooler and beginning to truly be at odds with my mom.  There were other girls wearing make up and having boy friends and actually going out on parent chaperoned dates (yes, in middle school).  If my mom said no to me once, she said it a thousand times!  I didn't agree with her then.  I bless her, now!
     She used to say, "If I didn't love you, I'd let you."  As an eleven year old, I understood what she meant, I just didn't care for it.  Bottom line, I still wasn't getting my way.  Although I knew she was saying no out of love, I didn't like it.  Not one bit.  I would give her the repetitive speech, "But so-and-so's mom is letting her."  Mama never faltered.  She's respond, "Well, so-and-so's mom doesn't love her the way I love you."
     Years later, and now I'm the mom.  And, of course, my mother's words are ever springing from my own heart.  More than once I have told my ten year old the same thing that Mama told me, "If I didn't love you, I'd let you."  In essence, what I am saying is, "If I didn't love you, I'd let you do anything you want.  If I didn't love you, I'd let you have your say and your way about whatever you'd like.  But, because I love you, I am not afraid to hurt your feelings.  Because I love you, I am determined you will NOT always have your way.  You will have to face consequences for your actions.  I will be here as you face them - you are not alone - but you will face them.  Now is the time you learn to become a strong, character filled, young man of integrity.  Not later.  Later is too late.  My love for you compels me to stand up to your childish, foolish, unbridled desires.  I'm not controlling you - I'm leading you, and one day you will lead yourself.  And when that day comes, you will finally understand my love.  It is not some feeling I have for you - it is the driving force in my raising you.  It is my motherly vocation, if you will, to love you - purposefully.  It will not always be what you expect, but I promise you this: it will never let you down."
     I see way too many parents who have been misguided by social whims that preach on many levels through many venues that being the parent is equal to being the buddy.  I see moms living vicariously through their daughters.  This was obvious when a friend recently posted a question on facebook asking for opinions on our school system using uniforms.  Most parents were for it.  But the ones that were not were mothers and each mentioned similarly that they enjoyed shopping with their daughters for cute clothes for school, etc.  What they couldn't see in themselves is that their objections to the uniforms had nothing to do with their daughters.  It had everything to do with themselves.  That's the problem with parents overdoing it in the "buddy" category.  They are doing everything they can to not disappoint little Chase or Ashtyn/Ashton/Ashtin (...what????  Using "Johnny" or "Susie" doesn't register any more ... gotta get with the program ... and the updated names!).  Afraid their child will stop liking them, they pull back, softening their discipline if not letting go of it altogether.  Instead of restriction or whatever punishment might fit their child's "crime", they opt for a chocolate milkshake to make it all better and smooth out the wrinkles.
     Let me stop and say that there are times when mending is the right thing to do.  I have had a few school mornings when, after dropping my child off at school after a miserable morning, I turned right around, went back to the school and asked to see him.  Those times have been few and far between, but have resulted when he took the brunt of my bad attitude, when my morning was awful and I took out my frustration on him.  Bottom line, when I am in the wrong and bring the hurtful feelings on my child, then I believe it is my responsibility to make it right by admitting my fault and asking for forgiveness.  It's part of leading by example.  I will stand my ground when he is wrong.  But when I am, I must admit it.
     I disappointed my oldest son this morning.  I told him I loved him when he got out of the van.  He just mumbled something back ... I think I may have heard "love" and "too" in there somewhere.  His eyes were a little misty.  My compassion for him rose.  And I drove away.  I am confident that this afternoon I will be greeted with a smile and maybe even some laughter.  And knowing my son, there will be an apology for his attitude of this morning.  And we will go on .... and he will be one step closer to manhood.  All because I loved him.

I'm Not Buying It!

     I can remember taking a Beth Moore study a few years ago and during one of the sessions she really hit home about the ridiculous way companies use sex to sell their products.  Her complaint in particular involved a breath mint.  In only the way Beth could tell a story (which had audience members and video viewers laughing through tears) she tells of finding the mints in a convenient store and desperately interrogating the poor store clerk about their description: Sexy Mints.  If you are familiar with Beth, you can probably hear her voice now, that high pitched Texas accent asking, "Sexy??!!!  Sexy??!!!  Exactly what makes this mint SEXY??!!!  And what makes this mint sexier than other mints????  Tell me!"  She adds that both her daughters had to drag her out of the store as she still pleaded from her soap box about the - ahem - sexy mints.
     Last year, I had a similar experience.  Although I did not confront the blue vested Wal Mart employee stocking shelves on that aisle, I came just shy of having a soap box vent when I discovered Degree deodorant's fragrance Sexy Intrigue.  Really?  I mean....it's for our arm pits!  First, what is so intriguing about arm pits?  Second, is there a real need for them to be sexy?  Clean shaven?  Yes.  Free of white residue?  Of course.  Sexy?!  Mercy, no. 
     Gimmicks to get us to buy products are everywhere.  From using sex (or lust) to sell everything from breath mints to cars, or some one's dramatic weight loss experience to sell videos and exercise equipment, to late night infomercial demonstrations that make products look soooo easy to use (and they'll throw in that extra "whatever" - a $56 value - for free!).  It's all about making the sell....whatever it takes to make a  profit.
     There is a different kind of gimmick that gets me, though.  I mean, gets me hot under the collar.  I've seen it in various forms but recently, I had enough.  I was shopping at a local Christian book store when I came upon the display.  Right there among the Beth Moore and James Dobson and Max Lucado books, I let it vent!  I didn't overdo it - but I did let the store clerk know just how ridiculous it was!  The product: hand sanitizer.  The gimmick: The Word of God. 
     I'm not kidding.  The wording on the package may have been tongue in cheek, but it did not have me laughing.  "Cleanliness is next to Godliness."  The scripture highlighted was from David's Psalm 51, "Create in me a clean heart, O God."  Now what, you may ask - as I did - does Psalm 51 have to do with hand sanitizer?  Or, what does hand sanitizer have to do with Psalm 51?  I believe these are fair questions.  The answer to both is a resounding NOTHING!!!!  However, the company making these ingenious little things wants their hand sanitizer to remind you to keep your heart clean, too. ..... (Crickets chirping) ......
Yes.  That's right.  ..... (Crickets again) ..... Wow.  I am so thankful for this product.  How else would I ever remember to consider the SIN CONDITION of my heart without the trusty aide of...drum rollllll.... hand sanitizer!  I didn't know whether to laugh or vomit.  I choose to laugh, less messy.  But I didn't find it funny.  I found it absurd and offensive that God's Word would be used for something like that.  Even though it is sold in a Christian book store, it is evidence of the growing indifference even we Christians have toward the holiness of God's Word - the holiness of God Himself.  We are allowing ourselves to be more and more desensitized to things that should make us blush or ignite righteous indignation.  Our plum line has become our feelings.  Dangerous territory.  My pastor said in a sermon recently, regarding our feelings, "God will not do His deepest work in the shallowest part of our being."  And yet, the shallow end is where we often stay.  There is less work there, less chance for actually having to swim and set a pace.  We don't even have to dog-paddle ... just sit on the side with our feet in the water.  As a result, the things that should matter to us just don't anymore.  Why bother learning the pool rules when all we plan to do is soak our feet?  No need to learn to swim when only our ankles are getting wet. 
     The company making the hand sanitizer is counting on our feelings.  They are counting on our not being able to distinguish the travesty of abusing God's Word over the clever packaging.  After all, it is for our good, both health wise as well as spiritually, right?  Clean hands (don't pass those germs around), and with every squirt from the container we are drawn to consider our own hearts.  I'll just say what I said aloud in the store this weekend, "You've GOT to be kidding me!"  Using God's Word as a gimmick?  Where's a cat of nine tales when you need one? 
     The thing is we must be careful with our own lives.  We can just as easily allow our identity as a Christian to become a gimmick.  We can allow it to say things about us vs. pointing others toward God.  We can allow it to make us feel worthy of self built pedestals (or those built by our peers) vs. getting real about our own sinfulness and seeing others as standing on level ground at the foot of the cross.  If we are not abiding in Jesus, we can become desensitized to the blood price that was paid for our redemption.  And just as the hand sanitizer manufacturer is counting on our indifferent feelings toward God's Word in order to sell their product, Satan is counting on our indifference toward Jesus' sacrificial death to sell us the lie that we are doing  just fine  in the shallow water.  No need to get wet.  Just stay dry.  He is counting on our indifference to the holiness of God to help us justify how we feel rather than to obey what God says.  Don't fall for it!!!  Don't place your trust in your identity - place your trust in Jesus, the One in Whom your identity is found!
     Hmmm ......  maybe that hand sanitizer served a purpose after all!  But I'm still not buying it!

     "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  Do not cast me away from Your presence and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.  Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and sustain me with a willing spirit.  Then I will teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will be converted to You."  Psalm 51: 10 -13