Goodness Abounds

 

I went to get a pedicure last week.

Barb The Art Teacher spontaneously asked if I could go,

And I could,

So I went.

We waited a little while,

Chatting and watching some kids play.

Then we went to our massage chairs and began the pedicure.

The guy working on my toes simply said,

“One pedicure,” and started his work.

He was very thorough,

Spending a lot of time on some rogue in-grown toenails,

Talking with us occasionally,

Especially when we mentioned we were teachers.

When his wife sat down to work with Barb,

She said, “What pedicure would you like?”

Barb looked at me and asked what I was getting.

I looked at the nail technician and he looked at my feet and said,

“Your feet are in good shape. You don’t need anything but the basic pedicure.

I mean, if you want all the extra stuff, then we can do it.

But you don’t need it.

And I don’t like to assume that people want it before taking a look at their feet.”

“Wow,” I thought.

“He didn’t try to up-sell me.

He totally could have made more money on my feet.

But he didn’t.

I’m super impressed.”

 

In a society where so many people make their money on the up-sell,

It was refreshing to experience someone who put his customer first,

Simply stated what I needed,

And complimented my feet in the process.

 

As we end 2023 and begin to shift our focus to 2024,

May we hold to good moments like this,

Believe that good people still exist,

And determine to be goodness ourselves

In a world that tries to suck goodness from our being.

 

God is good.

And goodness abounds.

Oftentimes in places where we least expect it.

 

Amen.

Room At The Table

 

We had an unexpected guest at our table yesterday:

Annie the Cat.

Used to, when the family came, Annie would hide the whole time.

Recently, she’s become more adventurous and been more of a presence.

Yesterday, she firmly planted herself in a dining room chair and

Did not move when we all convened in the dining room for dessert.

The whole family gathered round the table,

And there was Annie,

Asleep in my seat,

Vaguely listening to family conversation,

As happy as she could be.

 

…

 

Yesterday, Christians gathered worldwide on the eve of this Christmas Day.

We celebrated the birth of baby Jesus

And talked of the joy of Christ.

I sang of Mother Mary’s labor of love,

And my dad reflected on the presence of Christ that

Is the ultimate present to humankind.

 

Meanwhile, I silently agonized over the reality that so much of Christmas is a lie.

Theologically, Jesus wasn’t born on December 25 and the wisemen didn’t appear to Jesus at the stable.

Non-theologically, we indoctrinate ourselves on songs of fictional characters

And hang our hats on a belief in a Santa Claus who doesn’t even visit the least of these.

We confuse story with reality and mesh it all together into one big, collective lie.

No wonder people have a hard time believing in God.

And no wonder people have a hard time holding to the hope of Jesus.

 

…

 

And yet.

There Annie was at the table.

A teenage mother from an unwanted pregnancy

Who found her way to our house

Where we took her in and gave her her best life.

And here we are on Christmas Day,

Remembering the birth of a real person

Born to a teenage mother through an unwanted pregnancy,

Whose story found its way to our hearts

Where we took it in and can now live our best lives…

 

Dear God: There’s a lot we don’t know. But this much is true: Jesus was real. And His life and  love can live within us and give us unexplainable hope. Jesus was real. And His life and love can compel us to make room at the table for everyone. Help us to make room for everyone. Amen.

Digging and Digging

 

I felt like I was in a Bible story last week.

I had a friend who was figuratively paralyzed by life.

Nothing was going right—

In fact, lots of big things were going wrong—

And it didn’t seem like there were any good solutions.

She felt paralyzed.

I felt helpless.

 

Even though I don’t understand how prayer for other people works,

I began fervently praying,

And I found myself saying aloud,

“God. I know my friend isn’t a pray-er.

She’s too logical and practical to pray.

But I know she believes in you, God,

And I know she tries to live her life in ways that honor You,

So let me pray for her, God.

Let my prayers work for her.”

 

And then I thought of the story of the paraplegic who was taken to Jesus by his friends.

The house in which Jesus was teaching was so crowded that the friends couldn’t get inside,

So they literally dug a hole through the roof and lowered their friend to Jesus.

And Jesus healed him!

We don’t know if it was the man’s idea to go to Jesus or if it was his friends’.

All we know is that the friends did for the man what he himself could not:

They laid him in front of Jesus.

And that was enough.

 

I suppose you know what I did next.

I started figuratively digging.

And digging and digging.

And lowering my friend to Jesus.

 

There’s a song by Sara Groves that says:

“Love is a diamond,

Hidden in mountains,

Covered by danger and dirt.

I’m on the outside,

Digging and digging.

I’ve seen, so I know what it’s worth.”

 

When we love people,

We will do anything we can to help them.

We will dig holes through roofs and mountains,

And we will pray prayers so fervently that we cry.

 

Let’s keep loving, friends.

And let’s keep digging,

And let’s keep laying people at the feet of Jesus,

And trusting God, through time, miracle, and creation to do the rest.

 

Amen.

Why Are You Always So Busy?

 

I hear a lot of things from my students.

Some are silly.

Some are serious.

Some warrant further investigation.

Some are better left as passing statements.

But last week, a Kindergartener said something that I just can’t shake.

She said,

“Ms. Deaton, why are you always so busy?”

And I am.

I’m always busy.

I have e-mails to check,

Lessons and programs to plan,

Notes to write,

Spreadsheets to organize,

Things to do.

Oh yeh, and I need to teach the kids.

To save my voice, my feet, and my sanity,

I often get the kids—especially the younger kids—started with a song or activity and then Supervise them to make sure they don’t hurt themselves or one another.

While I supervise, I sometimes multitask on the computer.

It was during this multitasking that my student asked,

“Ms. Deaton, why are you always so busy?”

I didn’t know what to tell her.

Why AM I always so busy?

It’s true. I am.

Always busy.

But why?

 

Last week, I wrote this for my staff:

In the movie Frozen, little sister Anna asks big sister Elsa if she wants to build a snowman. For so many reasons, Elsa says no. Likewise, we live in a world where students, children, grandchildren, families, and friends are constantly asking us to build snowmen, but, for so many reasons, many of us say no. Yet the world is starving for snowman builders. The world is starving for the commodity of time. So this Holiday Season, in the hustle and bustle of it all, let’s try to make the time to build some snowmen, and then when we come back in January, let’s continue building. Our snowmen don’t have to be perfect. They just need to get off the ground.        

 

You know…

I think my student, in her question of my busy-ness,

Was asking if I wanted to build a snowman.

And I accidentally said no.

 

Dear God: Help us to slow our busy-ness and to build more snowmen. Amen.

Pedicab Ride

 

It was 9pm.

We were supposed to meet back with the group at 10:15pm

Rockefeller Center was a ten-minute walk from the meeting point.

We had plenty of time.

Or so we thought.

What we didn’t account for were the crowds.

Swarms and swarms of people,

Moving in droves,

To and from Rockefeller Center,

A traffic jam on foot as bad as the traffic jam in the road,

The only movement by inches,

Pushing and shoving,

Weaving in and out.

At one point, our group got separated.

Thank God for phones or I don’t know what we’d have done.

 

We found ourselves in a little open space around 9:40.

Foot traffic had pushed us in the opposite direction of where we needed to go,

And the only way to get to the meeting point was to go back through the scary crowd.

“I’ll pay for a pedicab,” Heidi The Librarian said.

I agreed.

So we hailed two pedicabs.

They trailed us as we walked a little-ways through the crowd

Until the police could let us through the barriers.

“Can you get us to the port authority?” I asked.

“Yes,” the driver responded.

There was no time for negotiations.

We simply hopped on and then…

Freedom!

 

We moved forward when cars and walkers stood still.

We rode through the streets,

Wind blowing through our hair,

Music blasting and people looking as,

We sang and laughed and had the time of our lives.

We saw more of NYC than we had previously seen.

We made videos and took pictures and laughed in sheer joy.

 

And then we arrived at the Port Authority.

And the pedicab drivers wanted $250 per cab, cash only.

And Jessi The Spanish Teacher had a bathroom emergency.

And the tour director was on the phone, asking where we were.

And cars were honking and people were yelling and

Venmo was trying to load and the director was trying to give directions

And Jessi was missing and

It was time to be at the meeting point and

It was the perfect storm of chaos and stress!

 

Maybe the drivers did take advantage of us.

Maybe they did take the scenic route instead of the direct route.

Maybe we should have negotiated prices.

But we were in no place to argue.

We needed saving.

And they saved us.

 

And then Amelia The Niece’s smile.

And echoes of Feliz Navidad.

And the feeling of freedom after being stuck in that crowd…

 

I’d do it all again.

And maybe this time,

I’d turn up the music louder

For our $500 NYC show!

 

😊

Mandrakes

 

“I know that it’s just God testing us,” she said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”

Then she went on to share the things going on in her life

And reiterated the belief that the tough parts were God testing her faith.

 

“Are you a fan of Harry Potter?” I asked.

“We haven’t watched the movies yet, but we want to,” she responded.

“Well,” I said, “there’s a plant in the stories called the mandrake.

When the mandrake grows, it must be removed from its pot and placed into a bigger pot.

During the process, the mandrake screams terrible screams

Because he/she doesn’t like the process of being pulled from comfort

And placed into the unknown.

I like to liken our lives to the mandrakes.

When we outgrow our circumstances,

Oftentimes after periods of rapid growth that come from difficult experiences,

We need a new place to be.

Yet we kick and scream and throw a fit in the process of being transported

Because it is unfamiliar, new and raw and uncomfortable.

But then, when we finally make it,

We have a new pot in which to continue growing.

I don’t know that God sits in heaven with a clip board and zaps down when it is time for us to grow and change through periods of hardship,

Or if life just happens and God then works with us to create something good from the mess.

I just know that God is a good God, a God of creation,

And that we are sometimes mandrakes screaming against what is best for us in the process.”

 

“Wow,” she said, “I have goose bumps. Thank you.”

And then the car rider line moved forward and I kept calling names.

  

God: Help us to see more than the image of You with a clipboard and staff, zapping those who have done wrong, bringing intentional tests and hardships to some, while blessing beyond measure others. There is so much mystery in You. There is so much we don’t know—so many contradictions of your character in scripture—so many views of you in this world. But, God, you are good, you are Love, and you are Creator God, and you gently handle us when you’re repotting us from one place to another. Thank you for designing us to grow. Thank you for giving us the space to change. Thank you for being patient with us in the screaming, and for not just dropping us and making us find our way on our own. Again, God, you are good, you are Love, and you are Creator God. And for that, amongst so many other things, we say thanks. Amen.

Sick

 

I’m sick.

Again.

Have you noticed the pattern?

After every major trip,

I get sick.

It’s my souvenir.

But it’s not a very pleasant one.

 

After Europe last summer, I had Covid.

It put me out of commission for 10 days.

 

After Disney this fall, I had a cold that took my voice for three weeks.

Thankfully, I didn’t feel too bad, so I didn’t miss work.

I just missed my voice and that was very, very frustrating.

 

After NYC this past weekend, I have what I’m calling the flu,

Although I haven’t taken a flu test.

I missed work yesterday and today, and the jury is out for tomorrow.

Fever, cough, vomiting, a general feeling of malaise.

I’m thankful for high powered cough syrup and pain killers.

And I’m thankful for a mom who made me Jello.

 

I wish that I had some words of wisdom to offer in my convalescence.

But I don’t.

My bed is calling my name and my eyelids are starting to shut as I write.

So I think I’ll close this note up by saying this:

Wear a mask when you travel, Deaton.

Then maybe you won’t come home sick.

😊

An Unexpected Gift

 

When I got home from my NYC Day Trip yesterday,

I had a package waiting for me

From Thomas the Tin Art Teacher.

Not expecting a package,

I excitedly, but carefully, opened it.

 

There was a note:

Be careful what you put on FB, he said.

Because you might just get something in response.

He then went on to explain that his gift

Had been sitting in his attic, for years,

And that he thought it might be better served with me.

 

As I began unwrapping his gift—

A tin, nativity scene from Mexico—

I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of Thomas’s gift,

And the fact that he thought enough of me to

1.      Think of me at all.

2.      Go into the attic to unearth the treasure.

3.      Gently package the individual pieces of the nativity.

4.      Retrieve my address.

5.      Go to the post office and pay to send real mail.

 

What an amazing gift!

 

This Holiday Season,

As gift giving weighs heavily on people’s minds and hearts,

May we find ways to achieve the unexpected,

And may the intentions of our hearts

Outweigh the demands of the mind.

 

Gift giving doesn’t have to be a burden,

Rather it can be an overflow of the heart’s love.

And remember that the heart’s love can be shown by

Words of Affirmation,

Quality Time,

Gifts (including the gift of time),

Acts of Service, and/or

Physical Touch.

 

May we find the perfect gifts for those we love,

And may those gifts bring smiles to faces,

And warmth to hearts…

Amen.