Connections

During my last class on Friday afternoon, one of my students kept giving me a thumbs up. At first, I thought that she was just giving me a thumbs up—as in—“I get it, Ms. Deaton,” or, “You’re doing a great job, Ms. Deaton.” When she kept giving me the thumbs up, though, I started to think, “What if that means something? What if she needs to go to the restroom and she’s trying not to interrupt class?” So I looked at her and asked, “R, are you just giving me a thumbs up or does that mean something?” “It means that I have a connection,” she said. “Oh, okay! Well…what’s your connection?”

“You know what you just read? ‘Cats stayed with cats. Dogs stayed with dogs. Like stayed with like. And that’s just the way that it was.’ That’s segregation,” she connected. “You are exactly right,” I responded, smiling. “And I’ve heard that you guys have been studying about that in class.”

I was proud of that connection. But I was even prouder of the original connection that let me know what she and her grade-mates were studying.

My assistant principal walked into the music hut with her clipboard and computer at the end of what has become one of my difficult classes. The phrases “bouncing off the walls” and “running in circles” could have been coined by the boys in this class. I cringed. Thankfully, the official unannounced observation was for the next class.

Friends: Even though I do nothing different during observations than I do during normal lessons, observations are still no fun. They make me second-guess my every word and action and amplify every student minor offense into major misdemeanor. So when one of my students wandered out of his seat at least 10 times, sometimes telling me things that correlated with the lesson, sometimes not, I began to wonder how my evaluation would be influenced. But then this happened:

“Ms. Deaton. This is just like black people and white people. Black people and white people used to not get along. Just like the cats and dogs didn’t get along.” “You’re exactly right, C. That’s a great connection.”

(Background: We’re working on a program called “The Unity Tree.” In the program, cats and dogs at first hate each other but then learn to get along.)

A few minutes later, I asked C to share his connection with the class. At the moment I asked him, he was distracted by a puzzle on my desk.

(Sidenote: Elementary students are fascinated by 500-1000 piece puzzles.)

But as soon as C heard his name, he stood straight up, faced the class, and clearly and confidently said: “Black people and white people used to not like each other…” (pause) “…until people like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. stood up to stop sl--” (pause with intense thinking face that knew that slavery wasn’t the right word but couldn’t think of the right word) “the stuff.” (pause) “That’s just like the cats and dogs in our program didn’t like each other until someone stood up to say that it was wrong.”

I was so proud of C in that moment that I almost burst. And…that momentous connection had occurred during an observation! Score!

Out of his chair ten times or not, C was paying attention and making connections far beyond anything I actually expected…yet somehow always hope.

Friends: We never know when the words that we say or the things that we do will connect with the eyes, ears, and brains upon which they fall. So may we always act in such a way that when they do, we can celebrate with joy and add the connection to our list of things for which to be grateful instead of our list for which to be ashamed. Amen.

I Just Glued The World Together

In the middle of my 4th grade class this morning, I received this text from my mom: “I just glued the world together.” I smiled.

When I got a chance, I responded, “Hooray!  Now we’re all safe! ”

She said, “I do feel more secure .”

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy, friends?
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could take everything that’s disjointed in the world, turn it into a puzzle, and then work with those we love to put it all together in a way that makes perfect sense and creates a perfectly beautiful picture?
And yet we know it’s not that easy.

From terrorist attacks to
unjust wars to
cancer diagnoses to
sudden death to
broken relationships to
overdue bills to
shattered dreams to
feeling abandoned by God.

There isn’t a lot of security in those things.
There isn’t a special glue that can be applied to life to help hold all things together.
Or is there?

…

I won’t see my Thursday and Friday classes next week because of Thanksgiving break. In preparation for Thanksgiving break, I’m sharing a book with many of my students entitled, “Giving Thanks.” [They’re fascinated by the fact that the title is Thanksgiving reversed!] The book is an illustrated version of a Native American Good Morning Blessing. It is a blessing that the children of certain tribes, to this day, are taught to pray.

Because Native American (or American Indian) culture is so deeply rooted in nature, it is no surprise that the book acknowledges thanks to everything from rain to food to the sun and the moon. Today, after we finished reading the book, I asked my students to consider: How might each day change if we greeted every part of it with thanksgiving? I’m not sure that most students really got the question, but I got it. Do you?

…

Friends, I don’t begin to pretend that greeting each day and situation with thanksgiving will magically make everything in life better.
Giving thanks will not stop terrorist attacks and unjust wars;
It will not cure cancer or prevent sudden death;
It will not heal all broken relationships and pay overdue bills;
And it will not mend shattered dreams or magnify God’s never-wavering presence.
Yet…
It will change the heart and mind.
And it will remind us of Love.
And Love is secure.
And combined with thanksgiving just might be the glue that holds the world together.

I'm Ready Now

If you would have walked into the Fellowship Hall around 7:45am yesterday, then you may have wanted to turn and leave. The praise team was getting ready for the early service and we were sounding and looking rough after a little break. After I hit the ceiling with the guitar while picking it up for the first time, I popped my left hand in a painful way while changing chords on the first song. During a perfectly natural, “Ouch I just hurt my hand” hand-shaking-out motion, my ring flew off my finger and my pick fell on the floor. Neither me nor my keys-player could remember what key we were supposed to play our songs in and my keys-player didn’t remember that he was supposed to have his keyboard set to a trumpet sound on one of the songs. Our vocalist was doing fine until I tried to break into harmony and then she went into the harmony part with me, leaving no melody to be heard. At this point, all three of us of us just stopped and laughed because there wasn’t much else to do.

Before calling the rehearsal quits, though, we decided to run our last song. We’d introduced it as a special music two weeks before and had scheduled to follow-up with it as a congregational song yesterday.

“I just let go and I feel exposed, but it’s so beautiful—cause this is who I am,” we sang. “I've been such a mess, but now I can't care less—in you I rest.”

As we sang, the silliness quietly turned serious, and I found myself singing from a place I hadn’t sung in quite awhile.

“I was so caught up in who I'm not. Can you please forgive me?”

Tears began to fill my eyes—as they are filling them as I write this tonight.

“I've nothing left to hide—no reasons left to lie. Give me another chance.”

Tears began falling from my eyes as we continued to sing:

“Lord I'm ready now, all the walls are down, time is running out, and I want to make this count.
I ran away from you and did what I wanted to, but I don't want to let you down. Oh Lord I'm ready now. Lord I'm ready now.”

When we finished the song, my goofy little praise team and I shared a powerful moment of silence during which all three of us recognized God’s presence in the room.

God truly is amazing, you know? In the middle of what was a purely unintentional not-so-spiritual time of worship preparation, God made God’s presence known in a way that I did not expect. As I spontaneously poured out my heart and released what I think may have been the final bit of residual hurt from a cut-off that had cut me to the core, I knew that God was listening, that God was forgiving me—and that God was giving me another chance—daily giving me another chance.

God does the same for you, too, friends—for all of us. Listens, forgives, and daily gives second chances.

And you want to know something interesting? We didn’t even end up singing that song in worship. The guest preacher, my dad, ended his sermon in a way that absolutely did not lead into the feel and message of the song. He ended on a high note of praise. We decided to, as well.

“My heart is filled with thankfulness
To Him who walks beside
Who floods my weaknesses and strengths
And causes fear to fly
Whose every promise is enough
For every step I take
Sustaining me with arms of love
And crowning me with grace”

Amen.

Wow. That Really Changes Things.

Today was rough. I’m not sure if it was me returning to “real” life after being away at a conference, if it was student behavior, or if it was a combination of both, but I was more than ready to call the day quits by the end of my last class. In fact, I turned and walked toward the board during that class and said to myself, “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Do not let frustration invade your being. Do not angrily raise your voice. You can do this. The day is almost over. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” I breathed myself to the end of the day.

…

When I learned the concept of being a “non-anxious presence” during my courses at divinity school, I immediately made it my goal to become a non-anxious presence. When I declared this goal to one of my professors, he laughed at me. What he knew that I didn’t know was that it is next to impossible to be a non-anxious presence. We can take steps toward being non-anxious. We can have moments of non-anxiety. We can live with a less-anxious presence. But it is very rare for a person truly to live as a non-anxious presence. My goal was indeed laughable. Yet it is still my goal. As my latest fortune cookie read: “It is far worse to live without goals than to live in fear of not accomplishing them.”

...

So…today I worked very hard to be non-anxious. I activated all non-anxious strategies—breath, prayer, body awareness, silence, sharing, firm voice rather than yelling voice, breath, and prayer—and, well, I didn’t fully fail. I didn’t fully succeed either. But I didn’t fully fail. And I suppose that’s a good thing, eh? 

…

In counseling on Tuesday night, I talked with Joe The Counselor about some of the situations that test my limits of non-anxiety—or I suppose I need to say less-anxiety if I want to be more accurate. For as many hours as I have been in counseling; for as many years as I have worked through the issues that are my monsters; for as many words as I have written about self-worth and value, grace and redemption, hope and resurrection, limitless love for all of God’s creation; there are still memories and realities that hook me—there are still words and accusations that hit me with such force that they knock me into the fetal position where all I know to do is cry.

As I shared these thoughts with Joe, desperately hoping that he could help me identify the root of one such reality that invokes so much anger and frustration in me that I truly do not like the person whom I hear and feel reacting, Joe patiently listened. Then he said something that I will not soon forget:

“Bear with me here,” he said. “You might not be ready to hear this. But what if the next time this reality arises, you say, ‘Thank you, (reality), for being my teacher,’ and letting the situation teach you whatever it is that you need to learn rather than letting it frustrate you to the point that you cannot think straight?”

I didn’t know what to say.

Until I finally said, “Wow. That really changes things.”

Think:
Thank you, student who is driving me crazy, for being my teacher.
Thank you, visceral memory that is punching me in the gut, for being my teacher.
Thank you, person who dislikes me and speaks ill of me, for being my teacher.
Thank you, stranger who cuts me off in traffic because you didn’t follow traffic signs, for being my teacher.

…

In my inevitably failed mission of living as a non-anxious presence, I now have one more tool to employ when my monsters attack: Thankfulness.

In every situation, friends, good and bad, there is something to be learned.
And for that, friends, there is reason to be thankful.

Thank you, God, for being our teacher.
In all things.
Even when our feeble, human attempts at love are laughable.

Amen.

Do It Anyway

I’ve been to a lot of North Carolina Music Educator’s Conferences and sat through countless hours of workshops, but until yesterday I’d never been to an ordination service in the middle of the conference. Here’s how it happened.

Confession: I’m terrible with Facebook Invites. For some reason, I often don’t see my FB invites until it’s too late to plan to attend the event. Such was the case with yesterday’s ordination. I hadn’t seen the FB invite until yesterday morning when I opened my computer to check in to my workshop and FB told me that I had an event happening near me. When I clicked on the event, I was somewhat shocked to see that, indeed, the event was happening near me. In fact, it was happening one block away from where I’ve practically lived for the past three days.

As if that wasn’t interesting enough, the event was scheduled to happen during an hour when I didn’t have a workshop. The chances of that being the case were slim to none; there have been workshops offered every business hour since Saturday at 9am! And so…I decided that I would attend my first mid-conference ordination service. I’m so glad that I did.

Not only was I able to worship in a beautiful sanctuary and remember my ordination in another beautiful sanctuary, but I was also able to see a couple of friends whom I hadn’t seen in many years and together support God’s call on the life of another woman in ministry. I can think of few things more sacred than that.

While the entire service was quite meaningful, there was one particular moment during the charge to the candidate that reached beyond the candidate and straight into my heart.

"People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
--Mother Teresa

I cried.
And I silently prayed that my friend would remember those words when times got hard.
And I silently prayed that I would do the same.
For you see, friends, life and ministry do not just happen inside the churches where Reverends are called out and affirmed,
But also in everyday life, in everyday circumstances, in everyday places,
Like the schools for which I have been at a conference learning to be a better Reverend teacher.

A Big Little Reminder

Last week, I had a parent come to me and share that she and her daughter were moving.
The parent’s main concern was that they might be leaving before this year’s field trip to the NC Symphony.
She said, “All my daughter has been talking about for the past six weeks has been this trip to the symphony. She comes home every week talking about all of the things that she’s learning in music class and how excited she is about the field trip.”
Inwardly shocked by what the mom had just told me, I outwardly carried on a conversation that ultimately led to the student remaining enrolled at my school through yesterday’s field trip.

Now…I suppose that it’s every teacher’s goal to actually teach her students some things.
And while I work really hard to teach my students to understand and experience music
and while I work even harder to help my students understand that music is not an isolated subject but a subject connected to every other
and while I work even harder to let my students know that they are safe with me and that they are loved,
I must confess that I didn’t really think that my students were actually learning anything—
That they might actually be going home and telling their parents about music class—
That I might actually be accomplishing my goals.
Even when I see progress—
Even when I give an assessment that clearly shows that musical knowledge has grown—
I still didn’t necessarily believe that my students were actually learning beyond my hut.

Until last week’s conversation.

While talking to that parent,
I felt as if an educational angel were shining a light upon me and confirming that I’m doing the work that I need to be doing right now—
Not just because I know that I’m doing more ministry now than when I was in full-time ministry—
But because I’m helping ignite a spark for learning in my students—
Because I’m helping “inspire” them, which is exactly what a student said after yesterday’s concert.

I don’t know about you, friends, but I think that every once in awhile each of us needs to be reminded that our lives are making a difference.
Consider this your reminder tonight.
No matter who we are. Where we come from. What we look like. How well we perform.
Each of our lives makes a difference to someone somewhere somehow.
Even when we don’t really believe it.
purp

A Very, Very Good Thing

Until Jack the Nephew came along, the Harry Potter series intimidated me. Not because of subject matter, character, or plot line. But because the books are so thick!

But when Jack started reading and liking the series, I decided that it was time for me to tackle it as well. With my ears, of course. But still: thick printed books make for long audio books.

Considering that I’ve now read the entire series twice (which is hundreds of hours of reading—with my ears, of course), watched each of the movies at least three times, and made Harry Potter references a regular part of conversation, I think it’s safe to say that I’m glad that Jack unintentionally nudged me toward overcoming my book-intimidation.

On Friday night, my sister and her family held their annual Halloween party. This year’s theme? Zombies vs. Harry Potter. Being the terrible Halloween-er that I am, I dressed as a muggle who sort of felt like a zombie after finishing the week’s work, but I enjoyed identifying other people’s costumes nonetheless. My sister dressed as Moaning Myrtle and wore a toilet seat around her neck. My brother-in-law dressed as Oliver Wood. Griffin the Nephew dressed as Harry Potter. Amelia the Niece dressed as Jenny Weasley—complete with red hair. And Dumbledore, Valdemort, Professor Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Hedwig, MadEye Moody, Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry’s petronas, a nitch, and a dementor were some of the other characters who attended the party.

In the spirit of the weekend, my sister asked if I’d like to join the family at the North Carolina Symphony on Saturday. They were playing music from…Harry Potter! I said yes. And I wore my brother-in-law’s Gryffindor robe so that I’d more fully belong :-).

After we waded through the sea of families dressed in all sorts of costumes, and climbed all the way to the top of the auditorium—literally—our seats were on the back row—and after I climbed all the way back down to the foyer because we forgot to get programs—I noticed something interesting: The guest symphony conductor was a woman.

As my sister and I discussed how unusually neat it was to have a woman conductor, Amelia looked at me and said, “Is it not normal to have a female conductor?”

I said, “No, sweetpea. Most of the time, when you go to a symphony concert, the conductor is a man. It’s actually very unusual to see a female conductor. We get to see something special today.”

She said, “Oh. It’s not unusual for me. I don’t go to very many symphony concerts.”

Shortly after this conversation, we noticed that the guest illusionist (think stage magician) was also a woman. As a result, the same conversation ensued. Neither my sister nor I had seen many—if any—female illusionists—so we both realized the significance of the concert. Amelia, though—Amelia thought absolutely nothing about the fact that women were leading the day’s events. For Amelia, strong, female leadership is just normal.

This, to me, friends, is not a result of magic or a reality only of fictional literature.
This, to me, friends, seems the result of many slow years of change—years that are still changing.
And this, to me, is a very, very good thing.