What Do You Look Like?

How are you identified?

My sister's family was in town. We went to an arts and crafts fair in a trendy section of downtown  Nashville, The Gulch. While there, we met a caricaturist in the Google Fiber booth. He drew our picture. We were amazed at his talent and quickness.

Aside from the artist's giftedness, I was interested in each family member's response. We shared our opinions as to whom the artist captured best. I thought he discovered the essence of my brother-in-law, Jim. My sister, Lori, said, "Oh no, Wanda, his picture of you was the most true-to-life." As we compared our thoughts, I noticed that none of us saw ourselves the way the artist or our family did.

Then the question struck me, do I see myself as my Creator does? I concluded the answer is a resounding, No! I doubt that I see anyone else as the Father does. It's probably not reasonable to think that I can ever truly see through the eyes of Jesus. But, perhaps that needs to be my prayer. Scripture says that God wants to perfect me...and you. Maybe that process begins by seeing the world more clearly through the eyes of a loving forgiving Savior.

Watch Where You're Going

Blog: Keep Your Eyes on Jesus

I was a typical teenager. I couldn’t wait to turn sixteen and get my driver’s license. But somebody had to teach me how to drive. My father had no patience. I dreaded the thought of getting behind the wheel with him in tow. My mother was a nervous driver, and she was scared to teach me how to drive. Fortunately, my sweet patient Uncle Jimmy offered to teach me.

In our small town, there was an old two-lane bridge that had no shoulder at all. From almost anywhere else in town, this bridge had to be crossed to get to and from our house. I remember the first time I had to drive across that bridge. About half way across, I saw a semi coming toward me. I didn’t see how there was space for us to pass one another without colliding. It seemed huge, and we weren’t in a small vehicle either. I was driving my uncle’s brand new 1968 Cadillac. In ’68, most cars were about the size of a boat.

As the truck came near, I considered my choices. Would it be better to die from a head-on collision with a truck or to drown in the car after going head-long over the bridge into the river below? Then I heard my uncle’s gentle voice, “Keep your eyes on the road ahead. Where you look is where you will go.” I hadn’t realized it, but I was veering towards the truck. In my fear, I was watching it instead of the road. Per instruction, I looked ahead, and the car righted itself. We easily passed each other without incident.

My uncle did not intend to state a spiritual truth, but that’s exactly what he did. The apostle Peter, was able to walk on the water as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. When he looked down toward the roiling sea, he began to sink. My uncle was so right. We will go where our eyes take us, so we need to keep them focused on the Lord, or we may sink into dangerous waters or run head on into a powerful semi.

Intentional Kindness

 

After church, one morning, I went to retrieve four-year-old Jonathan from his class. His teacher asked to speak with me for a moment. I wondered if Jonathan had done something wrong. My mind momentarily went into defense mode, but I patiently waited to see what she had to say. She took me by surprise when her eyes began to tear up. She said that they had a new child visit class that day. He was blind. She said the other children stared at first; then, they went about their play, ignoring him. He couldn’t participate in the same way they did. Jonathan was the one exception. She said he asked the boy if he would like to build something with him. When the child said yes, Jonathan guided him to the blocks. They sat down and played and laughed.  When the visiting family came to pick up their son, they were thrilled that he had found a new friend.

The teacher praised my husband and me for teaching Jonathan to be sensitive to the needs of others, especially those who were “different”. My mother’s pride welled up within me for a few minutes, but then I realized that we weren’t responsible. God had placed a tender spot, within him, that naturally reached out to those in need.

I like to think that I am kind to all people. But, I was compelled to question myself that day. Did I intentionally look for opportunities to engage those who might feel excluded from social interactions, or did I allow perceived differences to keep them at a distance? Jesus didn’t just give the shunned lepers a kind word; He embraced them. In his own way, little Jonathan did the same thing with a blind child. If a four-year-old instinctively responds with intentional kindness, why don’t I?

A Stone Fox and a King

Memory Series – Emotions & Stories

A friend of mine was concerned when her son went to high school. He had a learning disability, and his grades were less than stellar. She was afraid high school would be destructive to his sense of self-worth.

One of his first writing assignments in Language Arts was something like this: What is your favorite book? Expound on this; describe your personal experience with the piece of literature. My friend asked her son what he had written about. His favorite book was Stone Fox, a novel that his teacher had read to his 4^th grade class. She was surprised he remembered it. He recalled that at the end, when a dog died, the entire class was in tears, including the teacher. When she closed the book the room was totally silent for a moment. The class shared an experience that was relatable to all of them. There were no snickers about tears, because they were one in that emotional moment. The young man made an excellent grade, and his mom stopped worrying so much. She told me about this, because I was his 4^th grade teacher. She wanted me to know I made a lasting impression on her son by introducing this book to him.

Think about the books you’ve read and the movies you’ve seen. What are your  favorites? Chances are, they were ones in which you laughed out loud or you shed tears. I laughed with abandon when I first saw Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire, and I couldn’t stop the tears when I read Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place. Storytelling often goes hand in hand with an emotional component. It is one of the greatest tools we have to stimulate memory.

When teaching the history of early Germanic tribes, I would talk about Charlamagne, King of the Franks. I told my students of my German heritage and explained that my maiden name was Franks. I told them that a missed question on most tests would only count four or five points against them. However, I personally thought odds were that I was probably of royal heritage. I was a Franks from Germany, so my guess was  Charlamagne was my Great, Great, Great, however many Greats, Grandfather. Though I could accept most errors on a test, I would consider it to be a personal affront to my family if they failed to remember dear Great Grandpa was King of the Franks.

Ten or twelve years after I left that school and moved to another state, I returned to the area for a wedding. At the reception, I heard the loud voice of a young woman proclaim, “Charlamagne, King of the Franks”! Sure enough, it was a former student.

Yes, this was a silly story. It’s unlikely I would have any relation to this royal family. I said it, because I was looking for the information to stick, and it served its purpose.

When moved to laughter or tears, or even better, both, we will likely remember the experience for years to come. Some African tribes have passed down their history through tribal griots, storytellers. This oral history has sufficed for centuries, because the gifted storyteller has woven history into a relatable, emotional tale that each parent is inspired to tell their children.

Stories, with emotions, are powerful in their ability to instill long-term memory. When working with children or the aging, tell stories. Laugh and cry together. Create a shared moment that you will both love to remember.
                                                     
                                                    

Patsy Cline is Dead?

When our granddaughter was four or five-years-old, she would listen to music as she drifted off to sleep. Some of her favorites were Disney classics,

Taylor Swift, Elvis Presley, and Patsy Cline. For a young child, she had eclectic musical tastes. She would go around the house each day, singing songs from these CDs, trying to mimic the actual performers.

When the Patsy Cline story was presented by an acting troupe at the historic Ryman Auditorium, our daughter-in-law took little Eva to see it. They were both enjoying it until the radio announcer announced Patsy’s plane had gone down. Eva, looking around tearfully said, “What’s wrong with these people? Patsy’s plane has gone down and everyone’s sitting here as if nothing has happened.”

Her mother realized then that Eva was unaware the singer had been dead for many years. She whispered to her daughter, “Honey, Patsy Cline died in this plane crash decades ago.”

Eva screamed, “Patsy Cline is dead? It can’t be. I listened to her singing last night.”

Her mom explained how taped music worked. She then followed up by saying, “It’s just like Elvis. You listen to him, and he’s been dead a long time.”

Eva wailed, “Elvis is dead, too?”

Communication requires both a speaker and a listener, but it’s important to note that the listener is processing the speaker’s information based on her own knowledge and experience. If the listener’s background does not allow her to process the data on an equal footing with the speaker, the connection is broken. Confusion reigns when we tell without asking questions to insure understanding.

The next time you think you are getting through to someone, be careful. Remember, she may not know, "Patsy Cline is dead". 

When You Can no Longer See the Path

Hiking one of the trails, in the Natchez Trace State Park, can be challenging. It’s not that the trails are too long or too steep. The problem is that you can easily lose the path. Natchez Trace has been almost swallowed up by Kudzu. Kudzu is a vine that was brought to TN, from Japan, with the idea that it could help prevent erosion. Its root system was too shallow to accomplish the intended goal. Kudzu proved to be a real problem for the state. It grows about 12”/day. It will grow up a tree and totally cover a forest quickly. When hiking, one has to be careful not to get one’s feet caught in the vines. Because of its invasive growth, the vines can cover trails more quickly than the park service can clear them.

On a recent visit, my husband and I were going for a short hike, just about a mile, through the forest. We came upon several spots in which we could no longer see the path. Blue paint, on tree trunks, is used to provide markers for hikers. Unfortunately, the kudzu climbs the trees, quickly covering up the markers. When we could no longer see the path, my husband reached up to pull down vines from trees, searching for blue paint. I stopped, not wanting to get caught in vines, until he figured out the way we should go. He found the way without too much trouble, but he had gotten ahead of me. I could no longer see him, but he called my name and I followed the sound of his voice. It presented a spiritual metaphor in my mind.

What do you do when you can no longer see the path you thought your life was taking? You had plans, but obstacles have gotten in the way. You thought you had your life mapped out; the way was clear in your mind. Then, the path became obstructed. It was no longer visible. Where do you go next? You can’t see the next marker.

“Faith is the substance of things not seen, the evidence of things hoped for” (Hebrews 11:1). When you can’t see the step in front of you, do you throw up your hands and give up? Do you turn around, and go back to the familiar? If you can see the path clearly, faith is not required. If faith is not required, that suggests that you’re not going to achieve anything except that which you can control. Do you really want such limitations on your life? Do you want to be fearful of taking a step forward, because you don’t know where it will lead? If so, you won’t achieve anything with eternal value. Do you expect to experience God’s blessings for work that you do under your own power?

What do you want your legacy to be? Your children are likely to follow your model for living. Do you want them to see how far they can travel a path of their own making, or do you want them to step out in faith, listening for God’s call? If you are a believer, I imagine you want them to follow Him even when they can’t see where He’s taking them. So, what are you doing now, to prepare them to listen for the voice of God?

Enough?

Blog:  When is Enough, Enough?

Our master bathroom was undergoing renovation. While dealing with the demo mess, my husband and I were relegated to the guest bathroom. As I was getting ready to go out one morning, I became frustrated. Jack and I were vying for room around the one available sink. In my angst, I said, “How did anyone ever get ready before dual sink bathrooms?” It just took a moment before we both started to laugh. We had just returned from visiting our son’s family in Eastern Europe. They live in a country that is identified as a functional third world nation. Our son, and his wife, have four young children. His family, of six, is grateful for running water and electricity, because much of the country is not blessed with these simple amenities. A dual sink? Such a luxury is beyond the imagination of much of the world.

I must confess; I am spoiled! I don’t even know how to distinguish between the things that I truly need and those I just want. I feel entitled to many things that the world, beyond our borders, doesn’t even realize exist. We live in a home of about 2200 square feet. In our area, this is considered small. As we visited our son, he said, “Mom, you and dad don’t need that big house. You could easily live in 600 square feet.” I managed to pick my jaw up, off the floor, before he saw it, or at least I think I did. I don’t know if there are any apartments that small in our area, much less a house. The truth is, I don’t want to find out. I got claustrophobic just imagining it. 

My son’s family is blessed with an understanding of what is enough. His wife prepares dinner for the family each night and includes guests, three or four nights a week. She puts forth a generous delicious spread. It is all prepared in a kitchen that is about 5’ x 6’. She has a small refrigerator and very little cabinet space. The counter space is almost non-existent, and the sink doesn’t drain without a plunger to move it along. To add to that, the children want to help cook, and she encourages it. The kitchen is just a microcosm of the differences in their home and lives. The family does not feel deprived, and they live with a sense of contentment. They understand the meaning of enough.

As a mom, I am proud. My son is now teaching me. I may not be ready to sell out and move into a 600 square foot home yet, but he has prompted thought. I am reevaluating my definition of “enough”. And, maybe, that is enough for now.