November 12th

 I woke up yesterday morning and noticed it was November 12^th.

At first, I didn’t realize the significance of the date,

But then I remembered:

November 12^th is the anniversary of the day that my friend and mentor, Kay Simpson, died.

 

I went to church with my band that morning in 2006.

We were warming up and preparing to lead worship when

We looked up and saw Kay at the back of the church.

Kay had been sick for a few days,

So we were surprised to see her.

She slowly made her way down the aisle and sat on the front pew,

Listening to us play all along.

She closed her eyes,

Held her hands in a receiving position,

And sat for a few moments taking it all in.

When it came time for her to leave,

We asked if she needed someone to take or follow her home.

She declined the invitation,

Said she’d be fine,

And quietly left before anyone else could arrive at church.

 

That was the last time anyone saw Kay.

She died that night.

Her enlarged heart had enlarged so much that

It finally gave out.

 

The days, weeks, and years following Kay’s death were hard on me.

The sights, smells, and memories often overwhelmed me

And left me feeling such a deep grief that I couldn’t function.

Yet now, 17 years later, while I still feel the sting of her loss and

Still remember sights, smells, and memories just like they were yesterday,

I am finally okay.

 

Grief is an odd thing.

It comes and goes on its own terms

And sometimes it leaves us flat on our backs in tears.

But sometimes, it’s just a tiny whisper about the date—

Telling us that there is something for us to remember—

Someone for whom we should stop and be grateful.

 

I am thankful for grief’s gentle nudge yesterday.

And I am grateful for Kay Simpson

And the impact that she had on my life as a minister and friend.

Amen.

Unexpected 7th Grade Blessing

Yesterday was this year’s Harnett County Young Author’s Celebration. For a couple of reasons, I didn’t get the invitation until the beginning of last week and didn’t have time to talk to the other school winners, so I wasn’t sure if anyone else was going. [Johnsonville had the most entries in the county, two student winners, and three Forever Young (adult) winners.] Since today started two of the busiest weeks of my year, I really just wanted to stay home and take a long Sunday afternoon nap. But I’m a strong supporter of the Young Authors program, and I knew I needed to show that with my actions and not just my words. So I went. And I’m glad I went.

I must admit that I feel a bit silly sitting on stage with all of the student winners. I fear that it appears like I want to be honored. But that’s not it. I want to sit on stage with the students from my school so that they don’t feel alone. I want to be on stage with them to give them courage. And I want to read my writing aloud to model public speaking—not just to my students but to all the kids on stage.

When I got to the celebration yesterday, I saw my principal and one of my coworkers sitting in the audience. I also saw one of my students on stage! My coworker was not only the student’s teacher but also a Forever Young winner, so I grabbed her to go on stage with me. As we sat with the students, listened to them read, and watched them get their awards, I noticed a late-comer walking down the aisle. She looked frustrated. As soon as she made it to stage, her name was called to read. She read. Beautifully. Then she came to sit by me because it was the only seat left on stage.

After pictures were made, snacks were eaten, and everything was over, I went to my car to go home. As I was getting into my car, I saw my stage neighbor walking toward me. At first, I thought that she and her family were having car trouble. But then I heard her say, “I just wanted to tell you thank you for reading today. You did a really good job and it was really inspiring. It’s nice to know that older people still write and that not everyone has given up on it. Writing is so important.”

Humbled, I properly thanked my stage neighbor for her for her compliment (and overlooked that she called me old ), and then we had a fifteen minute conversation about writing, emotional expression, Harry Potter, literature, and band. I’m pretty sure she’d have kept on talking if I hadn’t realized that her mom was just sitting in the car waiting for her. But kudos to her mom for encouraging her to come talk to me. My stage neighbor, a 7th grader, had seen me walking to my car, wondered if it was me, debated whether or not she should speak to me, but finally walked over because her mom told her to go on and talk to me.

Knowing that it took a lot of courage for a 7th grader to speak to a stranger, I prayed through the whole conversation that God would give me the words that she most needed to hear, the questions that she most needed to answer, and the encouragement that she most needed to take away. I hope that I offered all of those things. And I hope that I will never forget the moment when I drove away yesterday and said aloud, “Well. I wasn’t expecting that. I guess it’s a good thing I came. Thank you, God, for guiding me to come. And thank you for unexpected blessings.” Amen.

Blind Inspiration

“Welcome to Stacey B. and Deanna!”

I chucked when I read that statement on the white board last Thursday night. Stacey and I had gone to speak to this semester’s Special Needs class at Campbell and the professor had welcomed us with those words. I felt a bit like a rock-star with the one word name, but I made sure to let the class know that, despite my rock-star looks, I wasn’t actually a rock-star. I was, instead, just an elementary music teacher serving as chauffer to the guest of honor for the night: a vision impaired teaching hero.

I wrote about my adventures with Stacey after she helped me with a presentation last semester. That night, we went to the Walmart and Stacey amazed me with her knowledge of the store. She has the aisles memorized. This past Thursday night, however, we simply went out to eat. I took her to the local Mexican restaurant and we had a delicious meal together. Like last semester, we had a great time, and I went to bed that night with a deeper respect for someone for whom I already had great respect.

For Stacey, not being able to see is normal. Born prematurely, she received too much oxygen in the incubator that saved her life but left her blind. When her twin sister began reaching for things and tracking objects with her eyes, Stacey did not. It was then that her parents realized that something was wrong and that her parents decided that they would be her biggest advocate. When schools told them that they could not teach Stacey because she was blind, Stacey’s parents said, “Yes you will.” Stacey went to “regular” public schools her entire life, then proceeded to a “regular” college, and then earned her master’s degree from a “regular” university. When others were out partying, Stacey was scanning pages of textbooks so that her computer could read them to her. When others were skimming hundreds of pages of reading, Stacey was listening to them all—unable to skim without the ability to see—listening as fast as she could but still being limited by the speed of the computer.

Stacey has a “regular” teaching degree. She did her student teaching in “regular” elementary school classroom, but she has chosen to teach vision impaired students the technological and life skills that they need to succeed in the world. No doubt, current technology makes things a bit less complicated for students today, yet things are still not nearly as easy as they are for those of us who can see.

Take, for instance, eating. While preparing for last Thursday night’s class, Stacey and I decided that it would be fun to ask the students to eat cake off of a small place. Stacey confessed that this is always difficult—especially in places where you are often expected to stand—like wedding receptions and other celebratory events. Stacey made the cake and provided the forks. The professor provided the plates and napkins. The students in class all struggled to get the cake on their forks and get the forks to their mouths without making a mess. They said they felt helpless, frustrated, and overwhelmed. I caught myself wanting to cheat—and I caught myself thinking, “I’ll just wait to finish my piece of cake when I can see again—because then it won’t be so hard and messy.”

For Stacey, eating without seeing has been her life’s reality. So is it more difficult for a seeing person to suddenly take away her sense of sight and expect her to be successful at a task? Maybe so. But the lesson was real nonetheless: There are so many things we take for granted.

Driving. Walking freely. Reading the directions on the side of the cake box. Reading a menu. Seeing in color. Seeing the face of a loved one. Seeing the crinkly little feet of a newborn baby. Dreaming in color. Watching a movie. Watching a game. Being able to avoid running over your dad who is working on the lawnmower in the yard while you are riding your bike (this is one of my favorite stories from Stacey’s childhood—she forgot that he was working in the yard and rode her bike right over him!)

Again, for Stacey, not being able to see is what she has always known. She has learned to live her life in such a way that she sees everything she needs to see. She would never want anyone to feel sorry for her or treat her any differently than we would treat a non-vision-impaired person. And yet…I must admit that Stacey inspires me…and she challenges me not to take the simplest things in life for granted…not even the knowledge of knowing that there is food on my fork when I place it in my mouth.

Who is someone who inspires you and challenges you to life to the fullest? Make sure you tell him/her thank you today.