The last stall in the girl’s bathroom has been “Out of Order” for the past week. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I haven’t bothered to check it out. All I know is that there’s a sign and I trust that the sign isn’t telling a lie.
It makes me wonder, though. What would happen if we could wear a sign on the days when we are out of order—out of stability—out of calm—out of harmony—out of peace—out of tranquility—out of lawfulness—out of serenity?
What would happen if we could wear a sign on those days when our hearts and minds just aren’t in our work; when we’ve had an argument with our loved ones and our love tanks are far from full; when we’re beyond tired from the demands of the world; when grief overwhelms us; when worry consumes us; when we’re just not feeling like adulting; when all we want to do is take a vacation that doesn’t require another vacation to recover?
I wonder if people would give us a wide berth and trust that the sign isn’t lying. I wonder if we would be left alone to deal with our upheaval in such a way that we don’t end up saying or doing something that we will later regret.
Alas. We don’t get to wear signs. And yet there are signs all around—of systems and people who are out of order—stability—calm—harmony—peace—tranquility—lawfulness—and serenity…
God, help us to see signs of dis-order, and help us to steer clear of situations that can inevitably hurt us when we know that we, ourselves, are out of sorts. Help us to know when to check on those who are hurting and when to give them space, and help us not to ignore those in dire distress. It’s a fine line—knowing when to check and when to give space—knowing when we ourselves need to ask for help and when we need to go at it alone. Help us as we walk the line and fill us with your peace on days when we are out of order. Amen.
Monday, September 30, 2019
Monday, September 23, 2019
Good Stewards Of The Earth
During my three years of vocational ministry, I spent many hours learning and teaching about human exploitation. While human trafficking immediately comes to most people’s minds when they hear the phrase “human exploitation,” I always think of another, less obvious form of human exploitation: exploitation of natural resources.
Exploitation of natural resources is both the misuse and abuse of God’s abundant creation which has been entrusted to us, and the disrespect of our neighbors—those present, those to come, and those around the world. As we disregard the earth and our role as stewards of God’s creation, we create an unequal burden on those who are most vulnerable in this lifetime and on all those who are to come.
If we believe that, “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein” (Psalm 24:1 KJV); and
If we believe that we are to do everything “for the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31); and
If we believe that our lives are to be living “sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God,” for “this is our true and proper worship” (Romans 12:1); and
If we believe that we are truly to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matt. 22:29); and
If we believe that God created man and woman and commissioned humankind to take care of the earth and to care for and respect each other (Genesis 1 and 2); and
If we believe that God created God’s creation and called it good (Genesis 1)…
Then we must live, breathe, and demonstrate the understanding that we are an interdependent people: human to God, human to human, and human to natural resources.
Yes. God is Sovereign. Yes. God has ultimate power over God’s creation. But I just can’t believe that God controls this world as a puppeteer controls his puppets. Instead, I believe, God asks us to play a part in taking care of God’s creation—in living our lives in such a way that our lives and actions are worthy of the goodness of the God who created us and called us good—and in such ways that we will leave the world a better place than we found it for future generations—in such ways that this earth will be redeemed through the redemption of Jesus Christ—the same Christ of whom so many Christians profess to be the hands and feet.
We can pretend that global warming isn’t real. We can pretend that our excess production of trash for our own convenience has no impact on earth. We can pretend that using up fossil fuels and cutting down trees and bringing animals to extinction is all part of God’s plan for humans to dominate earth. But what if global warming is real? What if our excess production of trash is negatively affecting persons and nations who are already poor and lack resources to respond? What if God weeps over the way we are consuming God’s beautiful creation out of a greed for more?
We have got to do better. I have got to do better. God, forgive us, and help us to do better. Please. Amen.
Exploitation of natural resources is both the misuse and abuse of God’s abundant creation which has been entrusted to us, and the disrespect of our neighbors—those present, those to come, and those around the world. As we disregard the earth and our role as stewards of God’s creation, we create an unequal burden on those who are most vulnerable in this lifetime and on all those who are to come.
If we believe that, “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein” (Psalm 24:1 KJV); and
If we believe that we are to do everything “for the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31); and
If we believe that our lives are to be living “sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God,” for “this is our true and proper worship” (Romans 12:1); and
If we believe that we are truly to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matt. 22:29); and
If we believe that God created man and woman and commissioned humankind to take care of the earth and to care for and respect each other (Genesis 1 and 2); and
If we believe that God created God’s creation and called it good (Genesis 1)…
Then we must live, breathe, and demonstrate the understanding that we are an interdependent people: human to God, human to human, and human to natural resources.
Yes. God is Sovereign. Yes. God has ultimate power over God’s creation. But I just can’t believe that God controls this world as a puppeteer controls his puppets. Instead, I believe, God asks us to play a part in taking care of God’s creation—in living our lives in such a way that our lives and actions are worthy of the goodness of the God who created us and called us good—and in such ways that we will leave the world a better place than we found it for future generations—in such ways that this earth will be redeemed through the redemption of Jesus Christ—the same Christ of whom so many Christians profess to be the hands and feet.
We can pretend that global warming isn’t real. We can pretend that our excess production of trash for our own convenience has no impact on earth. We can pretend that using up fossil fuels and cutting down trees and bringing animals to extinction is all part of God’s plan for humans to dominate earth. But what if global warming is real? What if our excess production of trash is negatively affecting persons and nations who are already poor and lack resources to respond? What if God weeps over the way we are consuming God’s beautiful creation out of a greed for more?
We have got to do better. I have got to do better. God, forgive us, and help us to do better. Please. Amen.
Thursday, September 19, 2019
As Children Think
During my Kindergarten class on Monday, two of my boys spent most of the class period with arms wrapped around one another’s backs, smiling as they were singing their ABC’s and dancing happily around the room.
They didn’t care that they were both boys.
They didn’t care that their skin was different colors.
They didn’t care that earlier in the day they had been arguing with one another.
All they cared about was having a friend beside them, connected to them, in that very moment.
How much better would this world be if we were like these two boys? Not caring about gender or race—not holding grudges—but just being in the moment with a friend?
God, help us to live with the simple, innocent, open eyes of children and to enjoy our lives and the people you’ve placed in them every moment of every day. Amen.
They didn’t care that they were both boys.
They didn’t care that their skin was different colors.
They didn’t care that earlier in the day they had been arguing with one another.
All they cared about was having a friend beside them, connected to them, in that very moment.
How much better would this world be if we were like these two boys? Not caring about gender or race—not holding grudges—but just being in the moment with a friend?
God, help us to live with the simple, innocent, open eyes of children and to enjoy our lives and the people you’ve placed in them every moment of every day. Amen.
Monday, September 16, 2019
Think Before You Speak
9.16.19—Think Before You Speak
I asked a dumb question today.
A student had gotten soap on her pants and was very concerned about how it looked.
Without really thinking yet somehow still thinking about 15 things at once, I said, “How’d you get soap on your pants?”
As soon as I’d muttered the question, I realized that it didn’t matter how she got soap on her pants. What mattered was that she was concerned about how it looked and was afraid that she was going to be picked on.
Instead of thinking about the details of the event that led to the problem, I should have said something like, “How can I help you?” and then worked with the student to solve the problem.
Instead of focusing on the details of the event that could have been embarrassing to the student, I should have said something like, “I’m sorry you got soap on your pants. Let’s see if we can figure out how to get that off or to cover it up.”
How many times do we encounter persons in need, feel compassion for them, want to help them, but then ask the most ridiculous, oftentimes hurtful, questions?
How many times do our heart and spirit have genuinely good intentions but then our mouths get in the way?
Thankfully, I quickly moved the conversation away from my dumb question, and the student and I figured out a way to detract from the soap spill.
But still…this encounter stuck with me and has served as a gentle reminder that I, myself, need to do something that I’ve been encouraging my students to do: Think before I speak.
Is what I’m going to say:
True
Helpful
Inspiring
Necessary
Kind
Think, Deanna. Think before you speak.
Think, friend. Think before you speak.
God, help us to think before we speak and to not let our good intentions be derailed by our mouths…and forgive us and help us get back on track when we do. Amen.
I asked a dumb question today.
A student had gotten soap on her pants and was very concerned about how it looked.
Without really thinking yet somehow still thinking about 15 things at once, I said, “How’d you get soap on your pants?”
As soon as I’d muttered the question, I realized that it didn’t matter how she got soap on her pants. What mattered was that she was concerned about how it looked and was afraid that she was going to be picked on.
Instead of thinking about the details of the event that led to the problem, I should have said something like, “How can I help you?” and then worked with the student to solve the problem.
Instead of focusing on the details of the event that could have been embarrassing to the student, I should have said something like, “I’m sorry you got soap on your pants. Let’s see if we can figure out how to get that off or to cover it up.”
How many times do we encounter persons in need, feel compassion for them, want to help them, but then ask the most ridiculous, oftentimes hurtful, questions?
How many times do our heart and spirit have genuinely good intentions but then our mouths get in the way?
Thankfully, I quickly moved the conversation away from my dumb question, and the student and I figured out a way to detract from the soap spill.
But still…this encounter stuck with me and has served as a gentle reminder that I, myself, need to do something that I’ve been encouraging my students to do: Think before I speak.
Is what I’m going to say:
True
Helpful
Inspiring
Necessary
Kind
Think, Deanna. Think before you speak.
Think, friend. Think before you speak.
God, help us to think before we speak and to not let our good intentions be derailed by our mouths…and forgive us and help us get back on track when we do. Amen.
Thursday, September 12, 2019
Okay In My Own Skin
At the end of the summer, I joined an online music educator’s group in an effort to become a better music teacher.
Instead of helping me, the group hindered me. I started doubting my abilities to plan and teach meaningful, relevant, world-expanding lessons, and I felt like nothing I did was good enough for the group.
After a couple of weeks of icky restlessness, I stopped looking at group member posts. Yesterday, for the first time all year, I felt like a decent teacher.
As I stood with my 5th graders and discussed blindness and autism (We watched a clip of Kodi Lee from America’s Got Talent);
As I explained what a brain tumor was (George Gershwin died very young from a brain tumor);
As my 2nd and 3rd graders learned the meaning of decency, fairness, honesty, discipline, justice, courage, integrity, compassion, morality, humility, kindness, respect, and responsibility (We’re singing a song with these lyrics);
As I corrected a first grader’s idea that we live in Merica (We’re learning “America”);
As I listened to some of my EC students respond to their lesson and happily participate (Today’s picture is courtesy of one of those students; he drew the planets);
I was finally able to rest in my own skin again and know that I am teaching meaningful, relevant, world-expanding lessons.
It’s good for us to try to improve. It’s good to seek opportunities for growth. But sometimes our best human efforts end up hurting us more than helping us, and it’s in those moments that we must fall back on and trust the person that God has made us to be.
What is something in your life that you thought would help but has hindered you instead? What parts of your God-created and redeemed self do you need to fall back on and trust tonight?
Instead of helping me, the group hindered me. I started doubting my abilities to plan and teach meaningful, relevant, world-expanding lessons, and I felt like nothing I did was good enough for the group.
After a couple of weeks of icky restlessness, I stopped looking at group member posts. Yesterday, for the first time all year, I felt like a decent teacher.
As I stood with my 5th graders and discussed blindness and autism (We watched a clip of Kodi Lee from America’s Got Talent);
As I explained what a brain tumor was (George Gershwin died very young from a brain tumor);
As my 2nd and 3rd graders learned the meaning of decency, fairness, honesty, discipline, justice, courage, integrity, compassion, morality, humility, kindness, respect, and responsibility (We’re singing a song with these lyrics);
As I corrected a first grader’s idea that we live in Merica (We’re learning “America”);
As I listened to some of my EC students respond to their lesson and happily participate (Today’s picture is courtesy of one of those students; he drew the planets);
I was finally able to rest in my own skin again and know that I am teaching meaningful, relevant, world-expanding lessons.
It’s good for us to try to improve. It’s good to seek opportunities for growth. But sometimes our best human efforts end up hurting us more than helping us, and it’s in those moments that we must fall back on and trust the person that God has made us to be.
What is something in your life that you thought would help but has hindered you instead? What parts of your God-created and redeemed self do you need to fall back on and trust tonight?
Monday, September 9, 2019
Known By Name
It’s impossible to predict what Kindergarten students will say. Today, for instance, after hearing, responding/dancing to, and/or singing no less than ten new songs, one of my Kindergarten students said, “But we didn’t do music,” as she left class. I’m not sure what she thought we had done, but in her mind, we hadn’t done music. Thankfully a classmate set her straight, “Yes we did. That’s why it’s called MUSIC class.” 😊
And on Friday. When I asked the first student on the carpet to tell me his name, I was not at all prepared for him to tell me his full name. I’m usually lucky to get a first name out of my students on their first day of class, so to hear a full name and understand every syllable was a surprise! Then, after the next student did the same thing, I was even more surprised. Then the next. And the next. And the next. Until every student in the class had introduced themselves by telling me their First Middle and Last names!
I asked the assistant if they had been practicing this in class. She said no, that she was just as surprised as me. And so for the first time ever, I was introduced to a Kindergarten class by their full names—by every way they knew to identify themselves.
Oddly enough, I didn’t think about this strange Kindergarten occurrence again until yesterday morning when my dad said something in a prayer that caught my attention:
“When we think of our names--” he prayed, “our full names—may we know that You know us—really know us—and love us--just as we are.”
My eyes popped open when he said that. Memories of my Kindergarten class introducing themselves with their full names moved to the forefront of my mind. And I thought to myself, “God knows us by name—by full name—by every way we know to identify ourselves—and God loves us—shortcomings and all.”
Just as I oftentimes shake my head at my Kindergarten students because they are so impulsive and unpredictable, so restless and hard of hearing, I imagine that God oftentimes shakes God’s head at us for being the same. Yet just as I love my little space cadets who cannot sit still, God loves God’s humans who, too, struggle to be still. And just as I try to be patient with my Kindergarten students as they mature in their abilities to do school and learn, God is patient with us as we mature in our faith.
What is your full name? When is the last time you said it aloud? Take a moment to do so now.
God knows you—your full name—and God loves you—in all of your messy glory.
Amen.
And on Friday. When I asked the first student on the carpet to tell me his name, I was not at all prepared for him to tell me his full name. I’m usually lucky to get a first name out of my students on their first day of class, so to hear a full name and understand every syllable was a surprise! Then, after the next student did the same thing, I was even more surprised. Then the next. And the next. And the next. Until every student in the class had introduced themselves by telling me their First Middle and Last names!
I asked the assistant if they had been practicing this in class. She said no, that she was just as surprised as me. And so for the first time ever, I was introduced to a Kindergarten class by their full names—by every way they knew to identify themselves.
Oddly enough, I didn’t think about this strange Kindergarten occurrence again until yesterday morning when my dad said something in a prayer that caught my attention:
“When we think of our names--” he prayed, “our full names—may we know that You know us—really know us—and love us--just as we are.”
My eyes popped open when he said that. Memories of my Kindergarten class introducing themselves with their full names moved to the forefront of my mind. And I thought to myself, “God knows us by name—by full name—by every way we know to identify ourselves—and God loves us—shortcomings and all.”
Just as I oftentimes shake my head at my Kindergarten students because they are so impulsive and unpredictable, so restless and hard of hearing, I imagine that God oftentimes shakes God’s head at us for being the same. Yet just as I love my little space cadets who cannot sit still, God loves God’s humans who, too, struggle to be still. And just as I try to be patient with my Kindergarten students as they mature in their abilities to do school and learn, God is patient with us as we mature in our faith.
What is your full name? When is the last time you said it aloud? Take a moment to do so now.
God knows you—your full name—and God loves you—in all of your messy glory.
Amen.
Thursday, September 5, 2019
That's The Plan
I decided to use my morning off to deliver hot chocolate to a friend. We had a nice visit.
After I got home, I decided to cook. I made chicken salad.
While cooking, I decided to turn on the TV. I turned on WRAL’s news coverage of Dorian.
While watching the news, I saw the picture of the Jeep that someone decided to drive onto the beach during a storm. I got mad when I saw a father allow his young son to climb onto the Jeep for a selfie.
I decided to write my note about what I had just seen. I see the effects of questionable parenting every day.
Then Debra Morgan made me laugh.
“…Dorian is on the same path as Hurricane Fran, only it’s not going to hit us as hard. Well. It’s not supposed to hit us as hard. That’s the plan anyway.”
That’s the plan.
First, I thought, do hurricanes have plans?
Then, I thought, how many times do we make plans that completely fail?
How many times have I planned to conquer the world while driving home, only to get here and promptly watch all of my energy dissipate?
How many times have I planned a lesson only to watch it fail?
Plans are good. Plans are needed. Having a good plan helps keep thoughts organized and actions on track.
But, really, when it comes down to it, how many plans are actually within our control? Especially when it comes to the weather!?
I think of Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the plans I have for you, ‘declares the LORD,’ plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
And I think of a name for God that has been floating around my mind for a few days—"God of heaven and earth and all points between.”
And I am reminded that plans are so much bigger than me—not completely independent of me—I must do my part—but, ultimately, life and nature are so much bigger than me—than us.
And even when I don’t understand the outcome, I am glad.
God of heaven and earth and all points between, help us to see the beauty in all things. Lead us to a time and place where each unique aspect of life and creation is appreciated—even hurricanes that we intellectually understand but emotionally cannot fathom. Move our live and spirits toward common peace. Amen.
After I got home, I decided to cook. I made chicken salad.
While cooking, I decided to turn on the TV. I turned on WRAL’s news coverage of Dorian.
While watching the news, I saw the picture of the Jeep that someone decided to drive onto the beach during a storm. I got mad when I saw a father allow his young son to climb onto the Jeep for a selfie.
I decided to write my note about what I had just seen. I see the effects of questionable parenting every day.
Then Debra Morgan made me laugh.
“…Dorian is on the same path as Hurricane Fran, only it’s not going to hit us as hard. Well. It’s not supposed to hit us as hard. That’s the plan anyway.”
That’s the plan.
First, I thought, do hurricanes have plans?
Then, I thought, how many times do we make plans that completely fail?
How many times have I planned to conquer the world while driving home, only to get here and promptly watch all of my energy dissipate?
How many times have I planned a lesson only to watch it fail?
Plans are good. Plans are needed. Having a good plan helps keep thoughts organized and actions on track.
But, really, when it comes down to it, how many plans are actually within our control? Especially when it comes to the weather!?
I think of Jeremiah 29:11. “For I know the plans I have for you, ‘declares the LORD,’ plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
And I think of a name for God that has been floating around my mind for a few days—"God of heaven and earth and all points between.”
And I am reminded that plans are so much bigger than me—not completely independent of me—I must do my part—but, ultimately, life and nature are so much bigger than me—than us.
And even when I don’t understand the outcome, I am glad.
God of heaven and earth and all points between, help us to see the beauty in all things. Lead us to a time and place where each unique aspect of life and creation is appreciated—even hurricanes that we intellectually understand but emotionally cannot fathom. Move our live and spirits toward common peace. Amen.
Monday, September 2, 2019
De Colores
9.2.19—De Colores
I’ve spent the day alternating between trying to beat a headache and doing one of the following things: burning old papers in the fire pit, pulling weeds, thinking about this note, preparing a meal, talking with my neighbor, and reading in preparation for the week.
It’s no secret that I often wonder what impact I make as an elementary music teacher. When I’m at my best, I can put my wondering to rest; I know that teachers can literally change the course of their students’ lives. But when I’m at my worst, the nagging doubts become thorns, vines, or weeds (like the ones in this picture) that choke out truth.
In today’s alternation of activities, I have had three things happen that have pulled some mental weeds:
I saw a picture of two of my former students (brothers) playing their French horns. If I remember correctly, my playing the horn had something to do with the reality that both of them now play their horns for their careers in the US Marine Corps.
I spoke with a former student who is now an elementary music teacher and has taught herself to play guitar. She is an excellent teacher.
I read the following passage from the NC Symphony Teacher’s Guide, and I knew, immediately, that the content of this paragraph is one of the things that I want to embody and teach all of my students—whether it’s through this particular song or not.
“’De colores’” is a Spanish folk song that embodies new beginnings, hope, and renewal. The expression means “in colors.” Although there are sad moments in life, there are also moments of joy, love, and many other experiences that are ’the colors’ of our lives. These colors, although unique to each individual, are the fundamental strands that tie us together. In other words, there are many colors but one human experience. The song is often taught in schools as a common Mexican folk song.”
Did you read that friends? Although there are sad moments in life—hard times—difficult circumstances that we may not understand—there are also moments of joy, love, hope, understanding, and new beginnings that are “the colors” of our lives. These colors—these reds and blues and yellows—are unique to each individual, yet they are the fundamental strands that tie us together. In other words, there are many colors but one human experience. There are many parts but one body. We are all in this together.
We are
All
In this
Together.
Music teachers, classroom teachers, administration, school staff, doctors, nurses, lawyers, sanitation workers, custodians, vocational ministers, cashiers, clerks, salespeople, accountants, engineers, technology experts, YouTubers, construction workers, first responders, warehouse workers, politicians, baristas, chefs, factory workers, military personnel, activists, carpenters, homemakers, funeral workers, prayer warriors, writers, musicians, artists…
We are all in this together.
God of work and rest, help me to remember—help us to remember—that we’re all in this together—everyone making a difference in their own unique way. Amen.
I’ve spent the day alternating between trying to beat a headache and doing one of the following things: burning old papers in the fire pit, pulling weeds, thinking about this note, preparing a meal, talking with my neighbor, and reading in preparation for the week.
It’s no secret that I often wonder what impact I make as an elementary music teacher. When I’m at my best, I can put my wondering to rest; I know that teachers can literally change the course of their students’ lives. But when I’m at my worst, the nagging doubts become thorns, vines, or weeds (like the ones in this picture) that choke out truth.
In today’s alternation of activities, I have had three things happen that have pulled some mental weeds:
I saw a picture of two of my former students (brothers) playing their French horns. If I remember correctly, my playing the horn had something to do with the reality that both of them now play their horns for their careers in the US Marine Corps.
I spoke with a former student who is now an elementary music teacher and has taught herself to play guitar. She is an excellent teacher.
I read the following passage from the NC Symphony Teacher’s Guide, and I knew, immediately, that the content of this paragraph is one of the things that I want to embody and teach all of my students—whether it’s through this particular song or not.
“’De colores’” is a Spanish folk song that embodies new beginnings, hope, and renewal. The expression means “in colors.” Although there are sad moments in life, there are also moments of joy, love, and many other experiences that are ’the colors’ of our lives. These colors, although unique to each individual, are the fundamental strands that tie us together. In other words, there are many colors but one human experience. The song is often taught in schools as a common Mexican folk song.”
Did you read that friends? Although there are sad moments in life—hard times—difficult circumstances that we may not understand—there are also moments of joy, love, hope, understanding, and new beginnings that are “the colors” of our lives. These colors—these reds and blues and yellows—are unique to each individual, yet they are the fundamental strands that tie us together. In other words, there are many colors but one human experience. There are many parts but one body. We are all in this together.
We are
All
In this
Together.
Music teachers, classroom teachers, administration, school staff, doctors, nurses, lawyers, sanitation workers, custodians, vocational ministers, cashiers, clerks, salespeople, accountants, engineers, technology experts, YouTubers, construction workers, first responders, warehouse workers, politicians, baristas, chefs, factory workers, military personnel, activists, carpenters, homemakers, funeral workers, prayer warriors, writers, musicians, artists…
We are all in this together.
God of work and rest, help me to remember—help us to remember—that we’re all in this together—everyone making a difference in their own unique way. Amen.
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