The Free Choice Car Alarm

 I timed it over the weekend.

My car beeps loudly for 1min 45seconds

Before it gives up and leaves the driver to her own fate.

While that might not sound like a long time,

It feels like an eternity when you’re waiting for it to go off—

And it’s a whole lot longer than any other car I’ve ever driven.

“How do you know this?” you might ask.

“If you just put on your seatbelt, then the car won’t beep.”

Well, sometimes I don’t put on my seat belt until I make it to the main road,

Or sometimes I take off my seat belt as soon as I turn into the driveway.

In such cases, I hear the beep of protest.

I don’t know why I do those things.

I just do.

Or I used to.

Until I got Ruby Pearl and her alarm forced me into submission—

Into doing what is right.

 

…

 

We have a lot of alarms around us—

A lot of voices warning us of dangers to our physical or mental health—

Friends, family, doctors, advertising campaigns, the church—

All trying to steer us in the right direction—

All making lots of noise—

But all ignorable if we choose to ignore them.

Ignoring them may be a bit painful,

But we can do it.

We can choose our own path.

We live in a country that allows that.

And many of us believe in a God who gives free will.

 

…

 

I went to see The Little Mermaid on Friday night.

Ariel wants to go to the above world.

Everyone tells her no.

In a dramatic scene, her father forbids it.

Ariel, of course, goes anyway.

Disaster strikes.

But, ultimately, she gets what she wants and

Is given legs to walk.

Her father even says,

“You shouldn’t have had to lose your voice for me to hear it.”

 

…

 

A friend recently told me that her seatbelt saved her life.

She didn’t ignore the warning beeps.

 

A friend told me years ago that early detection saved her life.

She didn’t ignore the doctor’s voice.

 

Heidi told me Saturday that taping her work before nailing it wasn’t easy but that it kept her from messing up.

She didn’t ignore our teacher’s voice.

 

Yes, friends, we have free will.

Yes, we can make our own choices.

And sometimes those choices work in our favor.

But sometimes it’s good to listen to the voices around us,

And to let them steer us toward common sense.

Sometimes it’s good to listen to the beep,

Forgo the discomfort,

And do what we know is right.

 

Dear God: Help us to know when to listen to the voices around us and when to follow our own paths and dreams. Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s right. So help us, God, to know—deep in our hearts and guts—with or without the voices and alarms around us—and then to do the next right thing. Amen.   

Memorial Day Thoughts

 I had my note for today written.

Then I watched the National Memorial Day Celebration on PBS

And realized that I had written the wrong note.

I need to write this one instead.

 

I need to confess that I am one of the

Fortunate?

Lucky?

Sheltered?

Ones who do not know that I know anyone who has died in battle.

Both of my grandfathers served in WWII.

G-daddy was part of the famous battle in Cologne, Germany, and earned a purple heart for his service.

My dad was in the Army Reserves for most of his adult life.

My sister-in-law’s father served in the Vietnam War.

I have friends who are in the military or who have family members currently serving in the Armed Forces.

But I, personally, do not know that I know anyone who has died in battle.

 

Sometimes I think that it’s not fair.

Sometimes I feel guilty for not fully understanding the pain.

Sometimes I feel bad for being thankful for a day off work.

Sometimes I feel so privileged and entitled that I hang my head in shame.

 

Last night on the PBS Broadcast,

A family shared their story of loss.

The mother spoke of how on the first Memorial Day after her son’s death,

The family received probably 100 phone calls.

The next year it went to 75,

Then 25,

And now hardly anyone remembers.

But the family does.

Every day they remember their loss.

Every day, they said, is their Memorial Day.

 

Friends:

I don’t know that I know anyone who has died in battle,

So I don’t know how to directly honor Memorial Day.

And maybe you’re so

Fortunate?

Lucky?

Sheltered?

That you don’t know that you know either.

 

So maybe we should start not by saying “Happy Memorial Day,”

Because it’s not exactly a happy day,

But by shedding tears for those who are hurting,

And sending love and light and prayers

To a people who are mourning,

And pausing from our day to be

Thankful

That we don’t carry the heavy burden of loss

Brought on by sacrifice.

 

Dear God: Be with those who are hurting today. And help those of us who don’t know that we know someone who has died in battle to be light and love and all things good to everyone we meet, for we don’t know what they’re going through. And God? Help us to remember. Tangibly and intangibly. Help us to remember. Amen. 

Forgiveness

 “You know,

I supposed when I’ve learned to carry her without complaining,

She will tumble off,

Or get so light that I shan’t mind her.”

 

Thank you, Louisa May Alcott, for this beautiful definition of forgiveness.

 

Banana Peel in Road

 ***After writing this note, I learned that, in North Carolina, it is illegal to throw anything out of a moving vehicle. I will make sure to follow up with my third grader and let him know this law.***

 

I was recently driving home a 3^rd grader eating a banana,

When he rolled down the window and tossed out the peel.

He was sitting on the driver’s side of the car,

So the peel landed in the road.

 

Usually, I get mad when I see someone throw garbage out the window.

I don’t understand it.

I don’t condone it.

And, quite frankly, I think it inconsiderate to animals, nature, and other people.

So when my window went down and something went out the window,

My immediate reaction wasn’t positive.

When I realized that it was a banana peel, though,

And named the fact that I, myself, sometimes throw out fruit and vegetable wastes,

I calmed down and thought,

“But I throw them onto the side of the road instead.”

And then we had this conversation:

 

“Sweetie,” I said,

“The next time you have a banana peel that you want to throw out,

Give it to someone on the passenger’s side

So that they can throw it in the grass rather than in the middle of the road.

If it lands in the middle of the road,

Then an animal might get hit trying to get it.”

“Like a raccoon?” he said.”

“Yes.”

“Or a deer?”

“Yes.”

“Or a turkey vulture?”

“Yes.”

“Or it could hit a car coming the other way.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

 

And that was that.

 

May we be a people open to less harsh judgment and more gentle conversation.

And may we be a people determined not to throw trash out the window.

 

Amen.

Kids and Pornography

 My youth minister was addicted to pornography.

We didn’t know it at the time,

But his addiction began in the 2^nd grade when a friend asked him to spend the night.

The friend introduced him to sexual images that night,

And from that point forward,

He couldn’t look away.

The addiction progressed from visual images, to phone calls, to in-person encounters,

To eventually breaking up his marriage after numerous treatment programs failed.

 

When my youth minister was growing up,

Exposure to pornography came through magazines and videos that children stumbled upon,

Unsecured,

In their houses.

Today, exposure to pornography comes at the click of the mouse,

At the answer to a search engine,

In the palm of a child’s hand,

And no age is too young.

 

Many people think that pornography is no big deal--

That kids need to explore and figure things out.

Many people think that sexualized images and language in commercials, shows, and games are no big deal—

That they’re funny and just part of life.

But when 2^nd and 3^rd grade students are drawing explicit drawings,

Complete with animals,

And when “Turn to pg. 69,” becomes reason for cackling for 8-year-olds,

And when young students can’t talk about squirrels eating nuts or sports using balls without snickering,

And when young boys are asking a student with special needs if he would “suck someone’s !@#$”

And when I can’t say that a musical note is long without a student responding, “That’s what she said,”

And when 2^nd graders have their phones, unmonitored, at 11pm, and send inappropriate images to one another,

Then I think we have a problem.

 

I admit. I am not a parent.

I have no idea how difficult it is to raise a child.

And I’m not attacking parents here, nor do I want anyone reading this to do so.

I’m just raising concern for where society has landed in both soft and hard pornography—

How normalized it has become—

I am lamenting the fact that children are being exposed to adult images, topics, and concepts, when they are nowhere close to having the maturity to handle them—

And I am mourning the fact that many children are being neglected or abused and it’s showing up through unhealthy sexual thought and action.

 

We can say that we need to go back.

But, clearly, with my youth minister as an example,

Going back isn’t the answer.

We must, instead, go forward,

And do everything we can do to be safe places for our children,

So that when they see or hear things they don’t understand,

They feel comfortable enough to talk with at us about them

Rather than going to school and asking other children.  

We must have difficult conversations.

We must write letters to and boycott companies who use soft pornography in their ad campaigns.

And we must realize that the onslaught of images and information being thrown at kids is overwhelming them and shutting them down.

 

Oh God: Help us. And help our children. To know and understand the value of all human life and to not become addicted to pornography, sex, alcohol, drugs, power, money, food, weapons, or anything else that damages relationship with you and others in this world. Help us to seek help when help is needed. And help us to get our children help when they need it, too. Guard our hearts and minds, God, and help us to hold to thoughts and images that uplift life and humanity rather than tear it down. And God? Let kids be kids. And let them come to you. Amen. 

The Homestretch

 The kids have lost their minds.

Teachers’ brains are fried.

Administration is being run ragged.

Parents are either anxious or excited.   

I am pushing through my days,

Sometimes on sheer apathy alone.

It’s time for summer break.

We have approximately fifteen days.

 

As we enter the homestretch,

Please join me in praying:

 

Oh God:

Grant grace,

Endurance,

Strength,

Self-control

Peace,

and

Patience.

 

And God?

Thank you for the learning that has taken place this year, both in and out of the classroom.

Help the positive, healthy learning to stick and the negative, unhealthy learning to fade.

Calm restless, raging spirits and replace them with focused, sensible minds.

Being a student can be hard.

Being a teacher can be hard.

Help one to respect the other, and help us all, student and teacher alike, to respect our colleagues and companions.

May, “We’re all in this together,” be more than a catchphrase.

May it be our reality as we enter the homestretch of testing and beyond.

Amen.

 

Discipline

 I had a good weekend.

Heidi the Librarian and I broke-in our newly designed tin art studio on Friday night.

Spring Extravaganza went well on Saturday morning and D&H Designs left with much less than we arrived with.

I wrote a sermon on Saturday night that a couple of people needed to hear on Sunday morning.

And we had a lovely Mother’s Day celebration on Sunday evening.

While I am grateful for days full of good, meaningful activity,

I was exhausted at the end of each day.

And yet…

I had a poem to write each night before bed.

 

I’ve said this before,

But Heidi and I began writing blackout poetry at the beginning of June 2021,

And I’ve not missed but two days since—

One when I was in the most excruciating pain of my life and stuck away from home for the night, and

Two when I was in the hospital after having surgery.

Every other day for almost two years,

I’ve written at least one blackout poem.

There have been many times when I haven’t wanted to write.

There have been many times when I’ve yawned my way through the process.

There have been many times when I’ve gotten frustrated with the text.

And there have been many times when I’ve tried to convince myself that just one miss wouldn’t matter.

But it would.

Not because I’m creating brilliant poetry.

But because a discipline is a discipline.

It’s something that isn’t always easy but that makes you better through its process.

 

Writing these notes is a discipline.

To post every Monday and Thursday, I usually write on Sundays and Wednesdays.

There have been many times when I haven’t wanted to write.

There have been many times when I’ve yawned my way through the process.

There have been many times when I’ve not known what to say.

And there have been many times when I’ve tried to convince myself that just one miss won’t matter.

But it would.

Not because what I have to say is so earth-shatteringly important.

But because a discipline is a discipline.

It’s something that isn’t always easy but that makes you better through its process.

 

In Divinity School, I learned about the disciplines of prayer, fasting, meditation, and study.

I know of friends who have made running or Duolingo their discipline.

What is your current discipline?

Do you ever struggle to keep it up?

What helps you push through?

And when you do, are you grateful?

 

Dear God: Thank you for giving us ways to grow. Help us to persevere when the growing is hard, and as Dory says, God, help us to “just keep swimming.” Amen.  

 

Shoes

 “Will you tie my shoe for me?”

“Sure thing.”

And I’ll tie you up with love while I’m at it. 

 

“Will you get the knot out of my shoe for me?”

“Yes.”

And I’ll wish I could unknot all of the mess of your life for you. 

 

“Will you double knot my shoe for me?”

“Just put your foot on my leg where I can reach it.”

And I’ll hope you have something or someone secure to hold you throughout your life. 

 

“Can I dump out my shoe in your trash can?”

“Of course.”

And I’d like for you to dump out all that hinders you, as well. 

 

“My shoe is hurting my foot.”

“It looks like your shoes are too small. Let’s see if we can get you some new ones.”

And I’ll pray they last a long time.

 

“My shoe is falling apart.”

“It sure is. And I don’t think tape will hold it together. Let’s get you another pair.”

And I’ll smile as you proudly wear them. 

 

“Your shoes are on the wrong feet, sweetie.”

 

“Put your shoes back on your feet.”

 

“I like your new shoes.”

 

Good. Because. 

 

“Will you tie my shoe for me?”

 

Only if I can tie you up with love while I’m at it. 

 

Teacher Appreciation Week

 It’s Teacher Appreciation Week, and here are my thoughts:  

 

A teacher’s job is extremely important even though policy makers, budget writers, the general public, and I dare say some school boards don’t recognize it as such. Education is the foundation needed for a healthy society, and teachers are essential to proper education.  

 

A teacher’s work is extremely important, and how we do our job matters. How we treat our students and the way in which we impart knowledge can be both life-forming and purpose-giving. Our work has the power both to build and destroy, and it has the reach to touch students from all walks of life, regardless of socio-economic status, race, ethnic background, religion, gender, sex, sexuality, or ability level. All students are entitled to free and fair public education. We must never forget that fact.

 

Teachers are extremely important people. Independent of the job. Independent of the roles of teacher, wife/husband/partner, mother/father, daughter/son, friend. Independent of accomplishments and titles. Teachers are important people with hopes and dreams, fears and failures, certainties and uncertainties, and times of rest and play. Teachers are more than teachers. Teachers are people, and a very important people indeed. 

 

My guess is that a lot of positive and encouraging words will be showered on teachers this week—and rightfully so. But friends: Teachers are leaving the profession at alarming rates because we don’t hear these words or see them backed up by policy and action often enough.

 

We don’t need praise through toxic positivity or empty words. We need genuine encouragement and support throughout the year. We need volunteers and substitutes. We need parent support rather than questioning and condemnation. We need funding. We need Amazon Gift Cards. We need coffee. We need prayer. We need policies that allow us to teach our subject areas and don’t censure us. Yes, there are a few bad apples in the teacher bunch, but mostly, we are good folks who have been trained to do what we do. Trust us. Let us teach. Don’t slap us on the wrist or in the face for trying to open the world to students or be a safe place for them as they grow and develop. And for the love of everything good, pay us like the professionals that we are and don’t punish us for staying in the profession longer than 15 years! 

 

So Friends: Go. Go do something nice for a teacher. And then write yourself a reminder to do something else nice for a teacher in a couple of weeks. These last few weeks of school are ridiculously challenging. And make a plan for next year. Ask yourself: How can I appreciate the teachers in my life? And then do it. 

 

And teachers: When you start to doubt your purpose. When the ridiculous demands of the job make you want to quit. When you are so tired that you just want to sleep. Hang in there. You are not alone. And you are loved. So much. If by no one else than God and me…but I have a hunch that it’s by so many more.

 

Amen.  

 

A Bout of Depression

 I wish I could tell you that I’ve made a seamless transition back into real life after surgery.

But I haven’t.

At least internally.

Externally I’ve done just fine.

I’ve successfully returned to work and picked up teaching.

I’ve played at a wedding.

I’ve officiated a funeral.

I’ve celebrated birthdays.

I’ve returned to choir practice and Sunday morning worship.

I’ve attended a couple of shows.

My calendar isn’t as full as it was two months ago,

But it’s filling up again.

Externally I’m doing just fine.

But internally, things aren’t going as well.

To put it simply and bluntly:

I’ve been a bit depressed.

I’ve had a hard time making myself do all of the above,

Because, really, I just want to sleep, puzzle, watch game shows or cook with my mom, or make tin art.

I have no reason to be depressed.

Surgery went well.

The recovery process has gone well.

Nothing is really “wrong.”

Yet depression doesn’t always rely on reason.

 

In counseling last week,

Joe asked if, in my experience, anxiety and depression went hand in hand.

I told him that I had never considered it.  

He explained that people with chronic anxiety (that’s me!) tend to function on such a high, going level

That eventually they crash.

When they do, he suggested, depression is there waiting—

Not in a menacing, daunting way,

But almost as a place to rest.

I super over-functioned before surgery.

I planned out everything I possibly could and crammed in as much activity as I possibly could and worried about everything I possibly could…

And then bam! Everything stopped.

I crashed.

And depression was there waiting.

 

Joe suggested that this period of depression can be a time to

Recalibrate my energetic output--

To rest and identify what’s truly important to me—

To grow organically—

And then to take slow, small steps back into what feels right.

 

Friends: I don’t wish chronic anxiety and/or depression on anyone.

It’s not very much fun.

But if it’s something you struggle with,

Then I hope you have a therapist, doctor, or a friend who is able to help you reframe it and stop judging yourself.

Before I talked to Joe last week, I was totally judging myself for this bout of depression.

Now, I’m gently naming it and sitting in it with grace.

 

Usually, as Joe and I are saying goodbye,

Joe says, “Take good care.”

Last week, however, he changed his closing statement to say:

“In the meantime, take it as nice and easy as you can.”

 

Friends: Take it as nice and easy as YOU can.

Until next time…