I'm sure you remember that one teacher who stood out from all the rest. If you're as fortunate as me, you might even have more than one that comes to mind. She made school worthwhile for you. She changed the way you thought about life. She made you a better person. It's hard to forget those teachers.
As a teacher myself now, I didn't imagine that I would have students who would change everything for me. All of my students are wonderful in their own unique ways, but I have one who stands out in particular. Though I plan to teach many more years, I think that my first year will always stand out- for many reasons but especially because of J.
I got to go to J's birthday party this weekend. I'm not sure how I got invited, really. J and I went round and round when I was his teacher last year:
"J, you need to get off the computer now. Your timer already went off."
"But wait! I just need to beat this level."
"J, computer time is a privilege, so if you choose not to get off now, you will not have time tomorrow."
"I don't wanna do that stupid work!" (as he bangs the keys on the keyboard and slams the mouse).
Or...
"J, I want you to try to read this for me."
He tries. Then, "Oh, I can't do it! It's just too much hard!"
"Let's try it again. I'll help you this time."
He tries, then gets frustrated again, rips up his paper, and throws it on the floor.
"J, you'll have to do it again. You know that's not acceptable."
"Mrs. Fenrick, I just don't like you very much."
But somehow he still wanted me to come to his birthday party on Sunday. I know I didn't do anything special for J, but I guess at the end of the day, he knew I loved him. I'm not sure you can explain to a six-year-old how tough love is the best or that the things he really doesn't want to do are for his good. But maybe somehow he understood.
J had a great birthday party. Friends and family, presents to cover the floor, and enough cupcakes to run out his ears. I'm sure he felt like the lucky one, but I think it was actually me.
Because although there was never a dull moment in my class with J, I did love him at the end of every day. It is hard not love a little guy whose smile melts my heart every time and who puts humor into trying situations. Mostly, he has reminded me what it means to be forgiving. I had him do unpreferred activities all the time last year and took away all kinds of privileges. He would get so mad at me. But when J would get off the bus every morning, it was truly a new day to him. He would grab my hand, and we would go off to face the world together.
When J ran out of the house to give me a hug at his birthday party, I realized that teachers have the best job in the world. And sometimes it's all because of one student.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Grace
I want to believe that there is grace for all people, and even on my darkest days, I still think there is. I think there is grace for liars, for thieves, for adulterers, and for murderers of all kinds. Grace for even me. Because even though those things are wrong, in my heart of hearts I believe that forgiveness can be found for the most wicked of us all.
People want to tell their stories. I think that we all could do a better job of listening. There is certainly a place to speak the truth in love, but let us not forget that one of the biggest elements of truth is the story of the Cross, where vile sinners can plunge themselves beneath the blood poured out and find themselves washed whiter than snow. As people share their stories, let's really hear them. And then let's share the greatest story ever told.
I don't know much these days, but I do know that arrogance never won any souls for Christ. May my life and my words be marked by humility.
People want to tell their stories. I think that we all could do a better job of listening. There is certainly a place to speak the truth in love, but let us not forget that one of the biggest elements of truth is the story of the Cross, where vile sinners can plunge themselves beneath the blood poured out and find themselves washed whiter than snow. As people share their stories, let's really hear them. And then let's share the greatest story ever told.
I don't know much these days, but I do know that arrogance never won any souls for Christ. May my life and my words be marked by humility.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Dark
Sometimes the whole world feels dark. These are the times when I'm thankful for friends like Aaron, who held up Moses' arms when he didn't have the strength to do it himself anymore. I read Job. And even though I usually have no words, I pray that it won't always be dark and hold onto the glimmer of hope that it won't be. Because even in the middle of January in Oklahoma, there are days like today when the sun comes out and it is 70 degrees outside.
(There is actually much more to this blog. Maybe someday I'll post the rest of it.)
(There is actually much more to this blog. Maybe someday I'll post the rest of it.)
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Mind Garbage
Lately, I have noticed that I spend an inordinate amount of time filling my mind with trash. Do you ever do that? Turn on the TV when there is really nothing that you want to watch? Surf Facebook aimlessly just to catch up on the latest gossip? Consume your day with thoughts of what's going on in the lives of everyone else instead of examining your own heart? Good, I'm glad I'm not the only one.
I recently became hooked on this show called Homeland. The show centers around Sergeant Nicholas Brody, who returns home from Iraq after eight years of being M.I.A., and Carrie Anderson, a C.I.A. agent who suspects he may be planning an attack on America. I hang on the edge of my seat every episode; the suspense is a killer! However, the show also is so disturbing and and perverted that I honestly can't justify watching it anymore.
I'm not trying to condemn people who watch Homeland, or any other TV show, for that matter. I'm also not trying to say that we should all shut ourselves in a closet and be ignorant about things which happen in the real world. I just can't help but think that I need to be more conscious of what is filling my mind because, like it or not, what we see and hear influences who we are. I pray that I can become a better steward of my time by thinking on eternal matters more often than petty, earthly ones.
Be very careful, then, how you live-not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. -Ephesians 5:15-16
I recently became hooked on this show called Homeland. The show centers around Sergeant Nicholas Brody, who returns home from Iraq after eight years of being M.I.A., and Carrie Anderson, a C.I.A. agent who suspects he may be planning an attack on America. I hang on the edge of my seat every episode; the suspense is a killer! However, the show also is so disturbing and and perverted that I honestly can't justify watching it anymore.
I'm not trying to condemn people who watch Homeland, or any other TV show, for that matter. I'm also not trying to say that we should all shut ourselves in a closet and be ignorant about things which happen in the real world. I just can't help but think that I need to be more conscious of what is filling my mind because, like it or not, what we see and hear influences who we are. I pray that I can become a better steward of my time by thinking on eternal matters more often than petty, earthly ones.
Be very careful, then, how you live-not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. -Ephesians 5:15-16
Saturday, October 22, 2011
A Story from Matt Chandler
I heard this at a retreat recently and thought it was worth sharing. The original story is from Matt Chandler, pastor of The Village Church in Flower Mound, Texas. I have paraphrased his words because I did not hear the original story.
When I was in college, my roommates and I would go to the same diner a couple of times each week. As you can imagine, we often saw the same people whenever we would go. In fact, we had the same waitress almost every time. As time went by, this young woman eventually started to open up to us about her life. Her story revealed that she was really just struggling to make ends meet. She was emotionally and sexually bruised due to her lifestyle, and it became immediately clear that she didn't know Christ. She was open to us sharing the gospel, and the Lord was gracious to save her and change her life many conversations later.
While we were all still in college, we decided to go to a Christian rally that was happening on campus. I invited our newly saved friend, who came and sat next to me.
The rally was about purity. As the speaker began to talk, he handed a rose to someone in the first row and instructed the crowd to pass the rose until everyone in the audience had received it. Minutes later, the rose arrived back in the speaker's hands with a broken stem and missing leaves and petals.
The speaker held up the rose for the audience to see. In trying to make a point about sexual purity, the man questioned, "Look at this rose. Now who do you think would want something like this?"
As I considered the young woman sitting next to me- her past, her brokenness, and the change Christ had made- anger welled up within me and it took everything in me to keep from shouting back at the man, "Jesus would!"
(Now these are the less wise and eloquent words of Mary Rachel Fenrick.) This story struck a chord with me because I once was the young woman. Maybe I didn't have the exact same struggles, but I was battered and broken, too. No one would have wanted me. No one, that is, except Christ. I'm thankful that God doesn't want perfect people. He doesn't choose people who are exceptionally wise, beautiful, or strong. He, in fact, chooses sinful, bruised people and sets them free.
Jesus would.
When I was in college, my roommates and I would go to the same diner a couple of times each week. As you can imagine, we often saw the same people whenever we would go. In fact, we had the same waitress almost every time. As time went by, this young woman eventually started to open up to us about her life. Her story revealed that she was really just struggling to make ends meet. She was emotionally and sexually bruised due to her lifestyle, and it became immediately clear that she didn't know Christ. She was open to us sharing the gospel, and the Lord was gracious to save her and change her life many conversations later.
While we were all still in college, we decided to go to a Christian rally that was happening on campus. I invited our newly saved friend, who came and sat next to me.
The rally was about purity. As the speaker began to talk, he handed a rose to someone in the first row and instructed the crowd to pass the rose until everyone in the audience had received it. Minutes later, the rose arrived back in the speaker's hands with a broken stem and missing leaves and petals.
The speaker held up the rose for the audience to see. In trying to make a point about sexual purity, the man questioned, "Look at this rose. Now who do you think would want something like this?"
As I considered the young woman sitting next to me- her past, her brokenness, and the change Christ had made- anger welled up within me and it took everything in me to keep from shouting back at the man, "Jesus would!"
(Now these are the less wise and eloquent words of Mary Rachel Fenrick.) This story struck a chord with me because I once was the young woman. Maybe I didn't have the exact same struggles, but I was battered and broken, too. No one would have wanted me. No one, that is, except Christ. I'm thankful that God doesn't want perfect people. He doesn't choose people who are exceptionally wise, beautiful, or strong. He, in fact, chooses sinful, bruised people and sets them free.
Jesus would.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9.11.01
Where were you on that awful day?
I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001, thinking that it was going to be a pretty typical day. As I've been watching the presentations of smouldering buildings and emergency rescue teams on TV from ten years ago, I am reminded of how that day was anything but typical.
I think it was a Tuesday. I was on my way to Mr. Simpson's eighth grade science class. We were supposed to make ice cream that day. For whatever reason, I was running late to class. As I rushed in at the last minute, I noticed that there was an eerie silence in the classroom (rare for a class of 20+ eighth graders). Our classroom TV was on, another oddity as most of our class time consisted of labs and lectures. When I started trying to figure out what was happening, I thought the whole thing was a joke. It looked like something that would be seen in a movie. Although the gravity and significance of the day could not have possibly hit me to the fullest extent at the age of thirteen, I slowly began to realize that this was really happening, and people were likely to remember it for years to come. Needless to say, the ice cream making was postponed, as were most activities during the rest of our school day.
I can't really imagine what that day must have been like for so many people. I was able to pick up and move on with my life shortly after the big incident, but I know there were many people who were not able to do so. My heart still goes out to those people, who are surely missing their loved ones today.
I also think about the men who were sick enough to commit such a terrible act. I feel sad for them and their families. My initial reaction toward them in eighth grade was anger, but now I just feel sadness in thinking about how lost they must be to have their hope for redemption in driving a plane through a building. What a waste of a life!
"It is Tuesday morning, the eleventh of September, and you will not forget this date," said the news reporter. Ten years later, we certainly haven't forgotten.
I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001, thinking that it was going to be a pretty typical day. As I've been watching the presentations of smouldering buildings and emergency rescue teams on TV from ten years ago, I am reminded of how that day was anything but typical.
I think it was a Tuesday. I was on my way to Mr. Simpson's eighth grade science class. We were supposed to make ice cream that day. For whatever reason, I was running late to class. As I rushed in at the last minute, I noticed that there was an eerie silence in the classroom (rare for a class of 20+ eighth graders). Our classroom TV was on, another oddity as most of our class time consisted of labs and lectures. When I started trying to figure out what was happening, I thought the whole thing was a joke. It looked like something that would be seen in a movie. Although the gravity and significance of the day could not have possibly hit me to the fullest extent at the age of thirteen, I slowly began to realize that this was really happening, and people were likely to remember it for years to come. Needless to say, the ice cream making was postponed, as were most activities during the rest of our school day.
I can't really imagine what that day must have been like for so many people. I was able to pick up and move on with my life shortly after the big incident, but I know there were many people who were not able to do so. My heart still goes out to those people, who are surely missing their loved ones today.
I also think about the men who were sick enough to commit such a terrible act. I feel sad for them and their families. My initial reaction toward them in eighth grade was anger, but now I just feel sadness in thinking about how lost they must be to have their hope for redemption in driving a plane through a building. What a waste of a life!
"It is Tuesday morning, the eleventh of September, and you will not forget this date," said the news reporter. Ten years later, we certainly haven't forgotten.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A Lesson from Geese
From Scouting the Divine
In reference to the geese in the barn...
I remembered that they were constantly walking around.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lynne.
"They're looking for their eggs," she said.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I threw them in the creek," she said.
My eyes bugged in disbelief. "Why?" Lynne's actions seemed cold and cruel- a far cry from the woman who loved her sheep.
"Because they were infertile," she said. "They will never hatch. I need to get these geese back to their regular life. For three months they've been sitting on infertile eggs. The only way to get them back to the way they're supposed to be living is to take away their dead eggs."
Her answer helped me understand her action as one of compassion and wisdom. I couldn't help but wonder how often I have sat on dreams that were never going to come to fruition or, worse, sat on the empty promises of the enemy that would never yield life- only self-destruction and death.
As I thought back to the numerous times where God has been faithful to remind me, "It's time to get back to the life I've given you," I recognized that this painful lesson isn't something I learn only once and move on... I will need to process, apply, refine, and reapply again and again the truth of what it means to live under the guidance of the Good Shepherd.
In reference to the geese in the barn...
I remembered that they were constantly walking around.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lynne.
"They're looking for their eggs," she said.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I threw them in the creek," she said.
My eyes bugged in disbelief. "Why?" Lynne's actions seemed cold and cruel- a far cry from the woman who loved her sheep.
"Because they were infertile," she said. "They will never hatch. I need to get these geese back to their regular life. For three months they've been sitting on infertile eggs. The only way to get them back to the way they're supposed to be living is to take away their dead eggs."
Her answer helped me understand her action as one of compassion and wisdom. I couldn't help but wonder how often I have sat on dreams that were never going to come to fruition or, worse, sat on the empty promises of the enemy that would never yield life- only self-destruction and death.
As I thought back to the numerous times where God has been faithful to remind me, "It's time to get back to the life I've given you," I recognized that this painful lesson isn't something I learn only once and move on... I will need to process, apply, refine, and reapply again and again the truth of what it means to live under the guidance of the Good Shepherd.
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