Reflections on Phase Ten Dice

 My parents and I have been playing Phase Ten Dice recently.

When we first started playing again, we were missing the instruction manual, the box was beat up, and we were almost out of score cards.

I decided to see how much new score cards cost…

Which led me to think we should just get a new game…

Until I realized that Fundex wasn’t making the game anymore and that the selling price on eBay was, on average, $40 per game!

This realization befuddled me and sent me on a quest to best the system and get a game—

With a nice tin—

For a reasonable price.

For weeks, I checked the listings on eBay.

They did not waver until last week when I saw a game listed for the base auction price of $9.99 or the buy now with best offer option.

The game was missing five dice.

But the instructions, the tin, and the scorecards were all there, so I made an offer of $10.

The seller countered at $15.

I countered at $12.50.

The seller ignored my bid.

A few days later, as the auction was coming to a close,

I noticed that no one had bid.

Remember—five dice were missing—and you can’t play the game without 10 dice—

So I bid the base $9.99.

And won.

The seller lost $2.51 on the deal.

And I chuckled.

Greed doesn’t always pay.

 

In case you don’t know,  

The object of Phase Ten Dice is to complete 10 phases, in order, and get the highest total score.

If you complete a phase, you get to tally your score for that phase.

If you miss a phase, you have to stay on that phase until you complete it.

If you score 220 points on the first five phases, then you get a 40-point bonus.

If you are the first person to complete all 10 phases, then you get another 40-point bonus.

After the first person goes out, the remaining players can continue playing as long as they don’t miss a phase.

As soon as a player misses a phase after the first person goes out, then his/her game is over.

 

During one recent game, I completed the phase list first.

I got my 40-point bonus.

My dad got upset and announced that he’d lost again.

In reality, all he had to do was complete his phase list and he would win—

Even without the 40-point bonus.

And he did.

He completed his phases and won the game.

He had been ready to quit.

But thankfully, for him, he kept going and

Finished his “race.”

Sometimes, even when it seems that all hope is lost,

We simply need to finish what we’ve started.

 

We should get our new instruction manual, tin, and scorecards later this week.

I have finished what I started.

And I had fun in the process.

What more could one ask…

Except maybe for 10 dice 😊.

 

Dear God: Thank you for the lessons we can learn through the simplest of things. Help us not to be a greedy people, and help us to finish what we start—especially when the task is rooted in good intention and love. Amen. 

Hungry

We have students who come to school genuinely hungry each day.

I know who some of the students are,

But I don’t know all of them.

Most of them try to hide their hunger because

They are embarrassed by it.

But every once in awhile,

The hunger is obvious,

And it always breaks my heart.

 

Recently, one of our fourth grade students didn’t have lunch.

Because he is lactose intolerant,

He couldn’t have the main entrée

And he didn’t want the vegetables or PBJ,

So he had no food.

His mood immediately went from pleasant to ill.

He stood and eyed his classmates’ food with longing,

Hoping that they would give him something that he could eat,

But they did not. .

 

I suppose it can be argued that if he was really hungry,

Then he would have eaten the vegetables or PBJ.

And maybe that’s true.

I don’t know.

I just know that he was hungry.

And I know that he’s a kid who faces a lot of challenges,

Who comes from a trauma background,

And that the mood reflected on his face and in his body

Was not a mood conducive for learning—

For him, or for his classmates.

 

As Marcus-The-PE-Teacher and I watched all of this unfold,

We became increasingly concerned for the situation.

We discussed the food options that we had in our rooms

And determined that we had Cheez-it’s and pretzels.

Because my room was closest, the pretzels won,

So I went to get our student a bag of pretzels.

 

By the time I’d done this,

Lunch was over.

I explained to the teacher what had happened,

That the student hadn’t had any food,

That he was upset,

And that we’d given him a bag of pretzels.

She was thankful.

 

I had put two types of pretzels in the bag.

One spicy. One not.

When I told my student that some of the pretzels were spicy,

He mumbled that it was fine,

And seemed genuinely,

And quietly (which is not this student),

And possibly even humilatedly,

Grateful.

 

Dear God: You have asked us to clothe the naked and to feed the hungry. Help us. Not just to directly clothe and feed but to work to change the system that is so unfairly balanced. The rich are getting richer. The poor are getting poorer. Help us to do something that will balance out the resources in this nation and in this world so that children and the least of these don’t have to go hungry. Amen. 

We Shall Overcome

 Each year around this time, I teach my 4^th and 5^th grade students “We Shall Overcome.” We learn about its history and importance, and we practice following a multi-verse song in the textbook. The 5^th graders also listen to a portion of MLK, Jr.’s “We Shall Overcome” speech and discuss the things that we still must overcome.

 

I wrote about this activity two years ago and shared the list that that group of kids said they must overcome. As I began the activity this year, I figured that the list would be much the same, but, apart from Covid 19 and bullying, I was wrong. Here is what they said:

 

Abusive parents

Bad people in the world

Bankruptcy

Bullying

Cancer

College and job applications

Covid 19

Criminals

Death

Depression and anxiety

EOGs and all tests

Family problems

Fear

Gas prices

Global warming

Grandparents dying

Heartbreak

Jobs not paying people enough–Fair Wages

Monkeypox, the Flu, RSV

Moving away from friends

Not a lot of food, not good beds, not good houses

Not getting enough sleep

Oppression

Parents divorcing

Paying bills and taxes and inflation and unfair taxation

Police Brutality

Pollution

Racism

Sexism

Stocks going down

Taxes

Unequal pay

War

 

As one of my classes was walking out, I heard one of my students say, “I don’t have depression. But I have anxiety. My anxiety is off the charts.”

 

And that broke my heart…as if it weren’t breaking enough for the things that these 10 and 11-year-olds have already been exposed to and worry about.

 

God. There is too much information. There are too many things that children know what they don’t need to know. Help us, as adults, to protect our children from things they don’t need to know until they are old enough to know them. Help us, as adults, to know how to be real and transparent with events and emotions without overexposing our children to events and emotions too big that they can’t handle them. And God? Teaching is getting harder and harder because students are carrying more and more junk and it’s coming out wonky and making it difficult to learn. Help us, as teachers, to have the wisdom, strength, and stamina to overcome the information overload and sense of entitlement that comes with it, and help us to be present with and for our students, even as they present all of their baggage. We cannot overcome without you. So help us, God, to overcome. Amen. 

Waffle House

 When my parents and I went to Waffle House last Friday night,

There were only two people working:

A black cook, and

A white waiter.

 

The cook was very good and pleasant.

The waiter was very slow and non-cholent.

 

The restaurant was full and very under-staffed for a Friday night.

We saw at least five groups, couples, or individuals leave

Because they didn’t want to wait.

 

As we were finishing our meal,

Two white grandparents came in with their grandson.

There was a table available, but it was not clean.

Seeing this, and being finished with all of his orders,

The cook went over and cleaned the table.

The family stood aside and waited.

 

The next thing I know,

Instead of sitting down at the table,

The granddad is storming out of the restaurant spewing curse words and threats.

His wife and grandson followed,

The grandson looking confused.

I heard, “…kick your ass…” and “from the first moment I saw you.”

 

I looked to the cook and the waiter.

They were both just standing there watching the family leave.

I couldn’t tell if the man had been spewing hate at

The lazy white waiter who had a bit of a sarcastic mouth or

The hardworking black cook who just happened to be black.

 

I really hope it was the former.

 

God, let it have been the former.

 

Because we really do need to get beyond judging people by the color of their skin.

 

Amen. 

Ass

 Forgive my language, but I was an ass on Saturday. Here’s what happened:

 

I arrived at ArtWorks Vass for my fifth tin art class 40 minutes early. I like to sit on the corner at the back, away from everyone, so that I have plenty of room to create. 

 

When I got there, though, someone had taken my seat! While I outwardly expressed surprise to Thomas the Tin Art Teacher, I inwardly felt resentment about the whole situation. Not only had someone taken my seat, but they had also brought their own food, tins, and sketches, and made themselves at home. This was not supposed to be happening! I immediately texted Heidi the Librarian, who was also taking the class, and said, “Someone took my seat.”

 

The perpetrators were walking around the gallery at the time of my arrival, so I didn’t know who they were until I got back from the nearby coffee shop where I had gone to get lunch. The entire time I was gone, I stewed about the day’s breech in unspoken and ridiculously selfish protocol.

 

When I saw the perpetrators, I immediately noticed a woman with a mask and thought, “Great. We have a germaphobe. I bet she’s a joy to be around.”

 

Folks: This judgmental attitude is not me! I couldn’t care less if someone wears a mask, and I really don’t think that a mask equates to an unpleasant attitude. I was just so resentful about my seat that I wasn’t thinking straight.

 

As Thomas began teaching class, one of the other class participants asked if he had suggestions as to what to make. The mask-wearer said, “Show her the pictures from last class, Thomas. That might give her some ideas.”

 

Heidi said, “You were at the last class?”

 

I said, “I don’t think you were at the last class because I’d remember you. It must have been the class before. I missed that one.”

 

Mask-wearer said, “No. I remember you. You did the beautiful quilt square and inspired me to add a patina background to mine. You probably don’t remember me because I had long hair.”

 

I said, “You had long hair?…”

 

And then it dawned on me that mask-wearer was also wearing a head covering…and that she had no hair…and…

 

Mask-wearer continued, “I was diagnosed with breast cancer two days after the last class and I’ve started chemo.”

 

In that moment, and even now as I write, I felt like such an ass and had to fight back tears. Mask-wearer, whose name is Christian, was sitting in my spot because she needed to be away from as many people as possible. Christian was wearing a mask because she needed to protect herself as much as possible.

 

Come to find out, Christian is a very nice woman. She is creative, kind, giving, and brave, and she is fighting her battle with cancer despite the odds. I helped her deconstruct a beautiful tin; she gave me the pieces she didn’t use. She worked with my tools and thanked me every time, and she asked me for advice throughout the day. Each time she said my name, she said it with genuine respect…and that made me feel like that much more of an ass…because I had so totally, completely, ignorantly, stupidly, and resentfully judged her wrong.

 

Oh God: Forgive me and my shortcomings—the resentment that I unknowingly carry—the judgments that I subconsciously make—the self-righteousness that leads me astray. On this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, may we each be aware of our shortcomings and vow to do better with your help. This story of assery may not be one of race, but it is one of harsh and petty judgment that reveals the condition of the human heart. Help us to rise above it, God, and to live more fully into Your heart. Amen.  

Rosa Parks

In August 1955, Emmitt Till was brutally murdered for reportedly flirting with a young white woman.

On November 27, 1955, Rosa Parks attended a meeting at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church that addressed this case. At that meeting, Parks found out that the men who senselessly murdered Till had been acquitted.

Rosa Parks was deeply saddened and angered by the news.

On December 1, 1955, after working all day at her job with the NAACP in Montgomery, Alabama,  

Parks boarded one of the city buses, paid the bus fare, and sat down.

As the bus made its way through the city,

Picking up more and more people,

The bus driver moved the designated “colored” seating section sign behind where Parks and three other black passengers were sitting and

Demanded that the black passengers move to the back of the bus so that white passengers would not have to stand.

Two years prior to this incident, this same driver, James Blake, had left Parks standing in the rain after she had paid her bus fare.

Seeing Blake and hearing the disrespect in his voice—

Remembering Emmitt Till and all that had been lost with his life—

Thinking of Claudette Colvin, a 15-year-old high school student who had been sexually harassed by police officers after being arrested for refusing to move to the back of the bus—

Rosa Parks decided that she was tired of being pushed around and, herself, refused to move to the back of the bus.

Parks remained calm when Blake threatened to call the cops.

She did not resist arrest when the cops came to take her into custody.

She was released on bail later that night and tried for her “crime” on December 5, 1955.

She was found guilty of disorderly conduct and fined $10.

The day of Rosa Parks’ trial was the day that the Montgomery Bus Boycott began.

The Montgomery Bus Boycott gained national and international attention,

Raising awareness of the difficulties of blacks in America and the civil rights struggle.

Due to her character, demeanor, and involvement in the Civil Rights Movement,  

Rosa Parks became the face of the Boycott that changed American history.

 

Rosa Parks didn’t mean to become the face of a movement.

She simply did what her conscience led her to do at a moment in time when she was so burdened that she had nothing to lose.

 

May we all be so bold as to follow our hearts and to boldly, or quietly in the vein of Parks, declare when enough is enough.

 

Amen.  

Lens of History

 I’ve never been a history buff. During my years of schooling, history classes were just lists of dates and places, none of which I internalized or remembered beyond the day of tests. I didn’t realize that there were actual people living the historical events—and that those people had real thoughts, feelings, and emotions—that they experienced things that cannot be captured on the page.

 

Fast forward many years and add layers of maturity into my life, and I now understand that making historical connections is actually interesting…especially when I’m able to connect past to present.

 

Last week, I found myself reading a lot about Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rosa Parks because my students were asking questions about them. In my reading, I realized that both King and Parks lived through The Great Depression and World War II. In regard to the former, I ended up reading about how The Great Depression Affected Black America. In regard to the latter, I ended up realizing that while King and Parks were growing up in segregated America, the Jews were living through the Holocaust. That was a humbling thought.

 

I also found myself reading about Tina Turner because I went to see “Tina: The Musical” on Wednesday night. Tina endured physical abuse by the hands of her Minister Father and her Musician Husband, emotional and mental abuse from the mouth of her mother, and unfair treatment by the music industry because she was black. Through hard work, perseverance, and an unbreakable spirit, she made her way into history as one of the greatest musicians of her time. She is now married to a non-abusive man who adores her and living in Switzerland as a practicing Buddhist.

 

And then yesterday, during church, I found myself wanting to study maps of the Middle East. The story of the wisemen intrigued me, and I realized that I no idea how close Jerusalem was to Bethlehem was to Nazareth was to Egypt was to Iran, from where scholars think the wisemen may have come. Did I study these things in Divinity School? Yes. But did they stick? Unfortunately, no.

 

The story of the wisemen also made me wonder: What if the wisemen hadn’t stopped by Jerusalem and somehow convinced Herod to see them? Clearly, they were important persons to be able to make audience with the King, and clearly there was something was special about them and their words for Herod to freak out like he did, but clearly they didn’t need Herod to get them to where Jesus was living because, according to scripture, they followed the star to the HOUSE where Jesus was staying. Had the wisemen NOT gone to Herod, would hundreds—thousands?—of baby boys’ lives have been spared? Could they have made a naïve mistake? Did they find out about the killings and feel bad for their part? Could prophecy have been fulfilled some other way?

 

This is what I do with history now. I wonder about it—and feel curious—and understand that history is made of human stories with human people with human emotions and human joys and triumphs and heartaches and sorrows. I ask questions and seek answers and try to connect those answers to what I already know so that the answers have inspirational meaning rather than statistical value. There is so much we can learn from history—so many joys—so many sorrows—so many patterns—we just have to have eyes and hearts to see…

 

Dear God: Thank you for being the God of past, present, and future…and thank you for challenging and inspiring us through the lens of history. Help us to learn from you and your people and help us to see the connections you would have us see between then and now. Help us learn from past mistakes and never to repeat them again. Likewise, help us learn from past triumphs and to move forward in grace, freedom, and truth. Amen.  

More To The Story

 My brother and sister-in-law gave me a Stanley travel mug for Christmas.

I had no idea that they are quite the rage,

But they are,

And now I’m hanging with the in-crowd! 😊

 

While at coffee with a friend on Tuesday afternoon,

As we discussed my new mug,

She shared with me that Stanley has a lifetime guarantee on many of their products.

She knew this because of a passing comment that someone made to her years ago.

 

Isn’t it odd how some moments and comments stick with us when we least expect it?

 

A few months ago,

On my weekly trip to the grocery store,

I saw an abandoned cart in the middle of the parking lot.

When I stopped to take a picture,

My shopping friend asked what I was doing.

I said, “I thought I’d capture this image in case I wanted to write a note about it.

I don’t understand why people can’t just walk a few extra steps to put their carts away.

It seems selfish and rude to leave your cart in the middle of the parking lot.”

Her response surprised me.

Instead of agreeing with me, she said,
“No. Don’t write about that.

There are lots of reasons people don’t return their carts—

Mobility issues being the main one.”

I thought about it for a moment as we walked through the parking lot,

And then I mostly forgot about it…

Except for the fact that her comment comes to mind every day I see a stray shopping cart.

 

Now, instead of getting annoyed with the cart,

I find myself wondering if its user had mobility issues,

Or if they had children they didn’t want to leave unattended.

Maybe. Maybe not. I will never know.

But at least I now send curiosity and grace into the world

Instead of judgment and bitterness.

 

When I received my Stanley travel mug for Christmas,

I had no idea that it was trendy.

I had no idea that it was an expensive mug.

I simply thought it a nice, new mug that I could use for coffee every day.

 

When I saw that cart in the parking lot that day,

I had no idea that there had been scientific studies on shopping cart return.

I had no idea that it was a touchy subject for some.

I simply thought that everyone should return their carts to the receptacle. Point blank.

 

But friends:

I’m being reminded--

There is always more to the story.

 

God: Thank you for my friend’s passing comment that has helped me become more curious and graceful instead of judgmental and bitter. Help us all, God, to become more curious and graceful instead of judgmental and bitter and help us always to remember that there is more to the story of what is initially seen. There is depth and feeling and emotion…and with you, God, there is always a lifetime guarantee. Thank you. Amen. 

Tiny, Infant Hands

 I don’t hold many babies these days.

My niece and nephews are grown,

And my closest friends’ kids are grown, too.

But last Wednesday night,

At Barb-The-Art-Teacher’s birthday celebration,

I held a mutual friend’s baby.

He was so very cute,

Strong muscles,

Curious eyes,

Glowing smile, and

Full head of hair.

While I didn’t get to hold him very long because he had to eat,

I got to hold him just long enough for him to do my very favorite baby thing:

Wrap his little hand around my finger.

 

Yesterday morning during Lessons and Carols at church,

We sang a phrase about Jesus’s tiny, infant hand.

I’ve often thought of Jesus’s full-grown hands,

In the carpenter’s shop,

On the cross.

And I’ve often thought of Jesus as a baby in the manger,

Sleeping in heavenly peace.

But I’ve less often thought of Jesus as a baby wrapping his little hand around fingers.

But you know he did.

All babies do.

And that image to me is just so very sweet.

 

Dear God: You came to earth as a baby who wrapped his tiny, infant hand around a teenage mother’s fingers. You came to earth as a baby who wrapped his tiny, infant hand around a bewildered father’s fingers. You came to earth as a baby who wrapped his tiny, infant hand around shepherds’ fingers and wisemen’s fingers and who knows who else’s fingers that were offered to you, the Hope of the World, in playful glee as eyes gazed upon you with your strong muscles, curious eyes, glowing smile, and full head of hair. Thank you for growing that tiny, infant hand into Strength that you now offer to us to put our tiny, human hands around. May we look to you and hold to you today and in the year to come. Amen.