Category Archives: Children

These blogs are about children.

Struggling Children: When in Doubt, Let Them Paddle it Out -by Donna

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I have watched ladies sob when the Titanic sank, and Jack slowly disappeared into the ocean or during Ghost when Patrick Swayze went to the light and faded away. I love those movies, but they do not bring out emotion in me, like a dog movie can. Give me Marley and Me or White Fang, and you will see my tears. 

During quarantine, my daughter and I have been walking her dog around a nearby lake. One morning as we stepped onto the path, we simultaneously noticed something black in the water following the geese and ducks. “It’s a dog!” I yelled!

The house I used to live in had a small lake and for several years we had a black lab. So, it was not surprising to see this. But as I approached the family, who was watching the dog, I became concerned. The woman was on the phone saying, “But I can’t swim!” She was standing with a pregnant lady and two small children. When we got within twenty feet, one of the little girls ran toward me in a panic. 

“Can you swim?”

“Yes, I can.” I smiled.

“Save our dog; he’s drowning!”

 I wasn’t worried until I talked to the lady on the phone. The woman called out to her daughter, “Boundaries. Six feet back.” She apologized for her daughter’s close proximity and then began telling me the events. “He has been swimming an hour! He won’t come back.”

How Long Can He Swim?

The dog was far out in the thirty-six-acre lake, and his head was barely above water. So, I watched and wondered. How long can this dog keep swimming? If that woman wasn’t exaggerating in the midst of her panic, he’s been out there an hour. That’s a long time! Dogs are smart, but when he gets exhausted, can he realize how far the swim back will be?

Several people had stopped walking and were gazing at the dog. While the family whistled and called, I began to worry. At times, his head would go down and only his snout was visible. My daughter frantically asked, “Are we going to just stand here and let it drown?”

“No, but I’m not sure what to do?” Having a big heart for dogs, desperation had already been building inside me. And he was swimming further out!

“We have a kayak!” She reminded me.

A Possible Plan

We went back to the car, drove the five minutes home and tried to see if the Kayak would fit in my small car. But the paddle was nowhere to be found, so that plan was out. I started back out the door, but saw two floats that belonged to my son in the laundry room. I grabbed one. 

As I walked back around the lake, holding a float and leash, I thought, can I do this if I have to. Am I strong enough to pull out a sixty-pound dog — if necessary? It’s been over thirty years since I was a lifeguard.

The little girl ran toward me with excitement. “You have a float! You’re going to save him!”

I turned to the woman asking, “Is he a friendly dog?”

As people continued to whistle, to our delight, he began swimming back. But when he was almost to shore, a goose honked and around he turned. He swam and swam. When he was far out, he gave a bark here and there. 

Wait

Is he calling for help? It was agonizing to watch him swim around and around in circles, and then his head submerged briefly. I could take it no longer. As I started to take my shoes off, I heard a man behind me call out, “Wait.” 

I turned and saw a man standing with his dog. “He is struggling, but he is strong.”

“They said he’s been out there an hour! And his head went under a minute ago!” I desperately whined.

“You can’t see underneath. His legs are still strong. I can tell by his stride in the water.”

So, I stood hugging my float feeling helpless but hoped the man knew what he was talking about. He stood with me for a while, but at some point, I turned around, and he was gone. Oh my gosh! Where did he go? He’s supposed to be watching and letting me know when the struggle is real? 

About five minutes later, he suddenly reappeared and stated, “I was watching from my window. He’s still strong.” 

He sensed my extreme anxiety over the situation and said, “If someone has to go in, I’ll go.”

“If someone has to go in, I will.”

Later at home as I pondered the day’s events, I smiled as I recalled how the dog emerged from the lake and the excitement on the families faces. I thought about how the dog scenario was so much like life as a parent and even as a teacher. Watching a child (no matter the age) struggle is so difficult. You want to step in and rescue them. But often we just need to stand on the shore to encourage and cheer them on. They will make it.

The man who stood behind me was like God, metaphorically speaking. God is watching our children struggle too. He wants to remind us, we can’t see what is happening below the surface. We just see the struggle on their faces. They are often stronger than we give them credit. At times we may feel like God has disappeared and left us alone with the problem. But like the man who was watching from his window, He is still there. Perhaps the most important thing is, “If someone has to go in, I will!” Deuteronomy 31:8 states “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you…” 

The dog made it in, though tired and wet. When our children go through struggles, they may come out weary, but the struggles help them grow. As hard as it is, we must sometimes sit back, encourage, and resist the temptation to jump in and save them. If we do, they may miss the lessons learned and the opportunity of growth to help them avoid making the same mistake twice.

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Forgiveness: Giggles and Grudges -By Karla

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Recently my daughter Lindsey’s best friend got married. Oh, the adventures these two girls have had over the years. I will never let them the time they their giggles caused them to not pay attention. Hence, while carrying tiki torches to the pond, they caught the woods on fire! They have been the best of friends since four and five. Never have a heard them hold a grudge.

Traveling Buddies

Lindsey and Mary Faith have traveled so many places. One threw up over the mountainous road, heading toward GA camp (Girls in Action). Soon after, they tread into baptismal waters on the same day, sealing their friendship on a deeper level as they are now Christian sisters. Mary Faith’s grandparents were probably never the same after traveling with these two girls and hearing their giggles for days to North Carolina for vacation. There have been trips to Florida together with the moms and siblings as well. Countless laughs over the years!

Today or Yesteryear?

Along with another friend, I hosted a bridal shower for Mary Faith. We played a “how well do you know the bride” game. It asked questions like where and when did the bride and groom meet. Other questions focused on the bride: when is her birthday and what is her favorite color? As I continued to answer the questions, memories cascaded into my mind. She is just like a daughter to me. 

As they stood before the group, one minute I viewed them as graceful grown ladies and the next as the two insecure, sill teenagers from yesteryear. We began sharing our answers, and I realized I was getting many incorrect.

How are my answers incorrect? I know her so well.

What Is Your Favorite . . .

“What is Mary Faith’s favorite sport?” Lindsey polled. I was torn between basketball and volleyball. They played both of these together for years at school. Volleyball! That’s the right choice. When Mary Faith revealed, “hockey”, I shook my head in disbelief.

“Favorite movie?” I responded Twitches! This movie scared the girls so badly when they were preteens that they cried. I knew Ella Enchanted was probably the bulls-eye answer, so I went with that. But again, I was wrong. What in the world is wrong with her? Her answers are not matching mine–which I knew were correct!  The memory of the Twitches was too good not to share. The girls doubled over in laughter at the recollection as did the attendees. 

At the end of the game, I asked if I could share Mary Faith’s favorite song because, obviously, she did not know it. “Hoedown Throwdown!” by Miley Cyrus,” I shouted. More giggles. Before the event had concluded, they did a short rendition of the childhood dance. 

Frozen Giggles

Driving home loaded with leftovers and decorations, I realized that I had frozen time. I had Mary Faith stuck in my head as a girl—different ages spanning in time for many years, but still my memories where frozen in time. As wrong as my answers had been, I knew they had been right at some point in time. I never entertained the possibility that she was not that person anymore. At that moment, my brain had another jolt. I wonder how many times I do that with people. 

The situation of freezing memories of them in their younger years caused me to evaluate another thing that I have been guilty of freezing in time.

Frozen Grudges

We often hold onto grudges from the past towards people who have mistreated us–not even remotely considering that person might have changed over the years.

We all have people who have done us wrong. There was the girl in junior high that dared the boy to “go with me” as a joke, the co-worker who “said this”, or the relative who “did that”. In our minds, we so often hold onto that memory and freeze it in time. We clinch it into our fist and hold it so tightly that we cannot breathe around it. Possibly, with each time we think or retell the incident, the anger gets stronger.

I very much recognize that there are people who we truly must guard our hearts from because they have hurt us, and if we let them, they will continue to hurt us. But, these people are few and far between, and even with these people, God asks us to not hold onto that anger.

“and when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” 

Mark 11:25

Freeze framing injustice limits our spiritual growth. When we keep grievances alive in our memory and heart, we sin against God. How thankful are we that God has removed the sins we have commented against Him as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12). Animosity towards others is not biblical. Matthew shares how Peter asked Jesus how many times we are to forgive. Jesus answered him, “I say not unto thee, until seven times: but, until seventy times seven.”

Just like Mary Faith is no longer that giggly girl that she was years ago, those people who have wronged us, may have changed over time as well. Yet, we often still freeze the moment they hurt us and the accompanying feelings. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Let the past stay in the past, letting go of that grudges. As Ana from Frozen would say, “Let it go; let it go.” 

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Trust: Letting Go and Letting God – By Karla

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Many times in my life, I realize I must trust God more, letting go or the concern and let God have it. Knowing something and doing it are two separate things! Sometimes I think I am on the edge of figuring out how to handle the situation. It is like I give the worry or burden to God, then I think, “I know how to fix this, God, give it back to me.” I must learn to trust.

Swinging Back and Forth

During times like these, I often feel like a trapeze artist. Please do not misinterpret my words because I do not possess the grace required to be a ballerina or an acrobat (Beauties Within). Standing on the edge of the platform high above is how I feel during these uncertain times. So scared when I look at the “unknown” below. God stands on the other platform. He swings the bar to me and asked me to hop on; He is waiting on the other side to catch me.

Now I know that you are thinking. “What in the world? God as an acrobat?” That is not really what I mean. I just picture myself up there while God is waiting on me to make my move. It’s like I say, “Okay, God, I am ready to give it to you.  And truly, I do! Well, for a little while anyway. However, then, I start trying to inch the bar out of God’s hands and back in mine. I know! It sounds so wrong, and it is. From all I have learned about God, He is faithful, true, and holds fast to His promises to do what is best for us. And yet, I do this same action over and over.

Life’s Balancing Act

Over the years, the platforms have taken the shape of a decision for a job, a move, or the how to spend my money. However, most often these situations concern my children. My youngest daughter Rachel, the one who I loving thought might become joined at my hip, petitioned to graduate from Kennesaw University last week. She is beginning to sprout her wings and fly, coming home less and less.

I have been struggling. Maybe the root of my struggle is that Rach is my youngest or because she “gained her independence” a little slower. Who knows? Maybe I am having a hard time because the way both my girls needed me in the past is not the same as how they need me now. The helper and fixer person I am has to figure out how to be the mom of two fully grown children. I am so proud of both my girls, but I have to remember they are their own persons now.

Praying and Patience

While Donna and I were in Florida, she happened to stumble onto a Facebook post by Lindsey Feldpausch concerning the Thailand moms, whose sons were recently in the news. We were both in tears at her describing the Thailand mom’s roles and the role of moms in general. While the boys were being rescued from the cave, the moms could only watch, not help. She continued by saying that we won’t always be the person most equipped to rescue our children. She had powerful words, when we can only watch: “I need to tell myself:  Intercession not interference.”

This week I was reading 1 Samuel chapter one. Again, God reminds me how to give Him my cares and how to leave them with Him. Hannah was barren and prayed in anguish to God. He heard her prayer and granted her desires.

Unlike me giving God control of the bar during the scary times, Hannah followed through with giving her son to God when he was weaned. “For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to Him. Therefore I have lent him [Hannah’s son] to the Lord. As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord.” (1 Samuel 1: 27-28)

And with these commanding words, I will strive evermore to swing the bar to my God and ask Him to help me let it in His care because “we know that for those who love God all things work together for good”. (Romans 8:28)

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Beauties Within -By Karla

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Miss Rebecca

When dance lessons were over, younger sister Julie and I sat outside waiting on Mom. Meanwhile Lynn and Gail, my older two sisters, would still have been in their classes. If my memory serves me correctly, this was a weekly routine for me during the ages of about six through ten. Miss Rebecca taught the younger dance students; but if you were older, you had Miss Melanie.

Miss Rebecca seemed to take pleasure in our young silliness as we wiggled our toes and scampered about on the wooden floor. Her skin shone with its beautiful tan. I longed to be her, though my quest for tanned skin has been a fruitless error over the years. When I played house my name was always Rebecca. Being so little, I only remember bits and pieces of these days.

I believe we tapped (also known as some shoe noise) to a song entitled “Sing, Sing a Song”. (Looking it up this morning, I realized it was originally written for “Sesame Street”, but the Carpenter’s made it famous.) Some flutes and a cheery chorus accompanied them. I remembered the line “don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear; just sing, sing a song”. I think she was trying to help us to enjoy the process of learning. These were such carefree and golden moments.

Miss Melanie

My view of Miss Melanie, was always on the sidelines because our little giggles were not encouraged in her studio. For she was bonding and crafting the artistry of the ballet in her young women. In my tiny eyes, Miss Melanie was a portrait of a ballerina come to life with all her elegance and dignity. The girls under her tutelage were transforming into graceful swans.

During the years that I peeked into her dance academy (also known as the old YMCA transformed into a make-shift conservatory), the young ladies were twirling into young adults by way of pirouettes and demi plie’s.  A few girls other than my sisters, were mastering the arabesque in their toe shoes.

Oh, how I longed for that moment. In her jazz classes, the lyrics, Do the Hussle came to life. I would stand in the hallway trying to pick up her instructions and be one of the older girls.  I think I had a better chance imitating a jazz dancer than a graceful older ballerina.

Kathryn and Stella Kate

Last week, I watched two of my great nieces who are four, in their own ballet recital. The theme of the recital was Beauty and the Beast. The older girls acted out the movie with the rehearsed dances shuffled throughout. Their instructor Roseanne took dance with Lynn and Gail. She had lovingly labored over the skills, organization, props, and stage presence vital in pulling off a show of such magnitude.

Personally speaking, I watched two giggling and timely-clumsy, four-year-old girls having the time of their lives. Shy and stubborn in their own ways, my little nieces pointed and twirled in their own little world. Their performances delighted the audience. I couldn’t help thinking, how like me all those years ago, these girls were learning to be confident and graceful.

True Beauty

At the all-important moment in the drama when Beauty and the Beast dance, a group of girls sauntered onto the stage. Beauty and the Beast were in the background while these cuties were twirling their rehearsed dance. I noticed two of the girls were older. I realized their dance was a little different. They likely had some special needs.

The recital’s themes, beauty is far below skin-level, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone God created is beautiful, was magnified at that moment.

And my eyes were filled with tears from their beauty.

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Chivalry: Calling all Gentlemen–by Donna

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Sunday after church I headed to Kroger for a few groceries. As I pulled into a parking spot one of my favorite songs came out of the speakers. So I decided to just sit a spell and enjoy it before fighting the crowd. While humming along, suddenly I was jolted. I looked up and a man in a huge white truck had pulled in the space in front of me, hitting my car! He glanced at me, crawled out his door, and headed into the store. I sat speechless for a moment. Getting out, I walked to the front and saw our vehicles pressing together. I backed my car up, then got out again to see if there was damage.  All clear, but I was perturbed. How about, at least, an “I’m sorry.”  I wanted to pull his UGA tag off and write “Roll Tide!”

Old Fashioned Girl

Last week I was carrying a rocking chair from one end of the school to the other. A man (who does not work at our school) came around the corner and was heading in the same direction. As I toted the full-size rocker, he carried on a pleasant conversation. In my head I was thinking, Really, you aren’t going to offer to carry this chair for me?  He walked three long halls with me before saying, “Where are you taking that?” Finally! But to my dismay, he just kept talking, and I just kept carrying the chair.

Maybe I’m an old fashioned girl, but it seems to me that true gentlemen are becoming few and far between. Granted there are women who say, “I can carry this, I don’t need your help.” But ladies still exist who want the gesture, because it makes them feel respected.

Last summer I was leaving the Dollar General with my arms loaded. As I fought with the door, pushing it with my hip, and balancing the items that were about to fall, I looked up and saw a man standing on the sidewalk staring me down.  I thought to myself, If that were my daddy, and he saw a lady in this predicament he would rush over and hold the door.

Gentlemen

I was raised by a gentleman, who was raised by a gentleman, who was raised by a gentleman…. Maybe that is why I expect no less of my boys. When incidents like these happen to me, my boys get to hear me preach. A chivalrous man offers to help because he has manners, not because it is required, or he feels she is inferior. If you are a mother of a boy, I encourage you to teach them to be a true gentleman. Some ladies will appreciate their chivalry and your son will feel pride in helping them.

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Contentment: And Then What? -By Karla

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I Want It Now

I LOVED Willie Wanka and the Chocolate Factory, with all its greedy children and the kind, innocent Charlie. Man! I so wanted a golden ticket when I was a kid. I enjoyed singing all the songs. One I remember vividly was the “give-it-to-me-now-kid” with the golden goose girl who wanted to have it now! Sometimes, I feel like we live in a world of “Give it to me now”! She was so demanding and snippy that she was plunged down into the “bad egg shoot”!

Most kids under 20 have never gotten up to turn the TV channel. They have always had microwaves in their kitchen—a futuristic contraption from the Jetson’s cartoon I grew up watching. Their world has been so instant that it is harder and harder to have patience.

Younger and Younger

I’m not sure everyone feels this way, but I think kids receive things at younger and younger ages. If you asked my oldest daughter Lindsey she would surely tell you that is true of her younger sister Rachel. Don’t get her started about at what age she got her cellphone compared to when she got hers.

What Next?

I can still hear Mom spouting off the life lesson. “If we get everything we want now, what then? What do we have to look forward to later?” I remember how she would shake her head when she heard of high school kids riding in a limousine. “How in the world will they top that one?”

Patience, Patience

I don’t know about you, but there are times in which I do have a hard time waiting as well. The doctor’s office or the line at the grocery store used to be difficult for me. I now try to catch up on Facebook, read a magazine article, and take some deep breaths. Even the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz had a good point when she shared, “All in good time, my little pretty, all in good time!”

Teaching school for 27 years, I have seen a big shift in the lack of perseverance needed at times for kids to be successful. The number of “I give-uppers” continues to climb. Why? Perhaps it is because “they want it now”. Learning isn’t always on the immediate; they begin to give up, feeling defeated.

Who’s to blame for all this split-second need of fulfillment? Probably, all of us. Science, the media, the “give everyone a trophy” fans, and yep, even you and me. What? Say it’s not so! But, how often do we complain about not having something we want and need to save for the purchase? Perhaps worse, we whip out the credit card for the impulsive buy because of the sale because we “need” a new outfit for the upcoming event—never mind that I have five perfectly appropriate and pretty ones.

So, how do we model the “all in good time, my little pretty” philosophy? We slow down! Take a back road to enjoy the scenery and inform our kids (or grandkids) of the reason. We let them watch us struggle for answers and problem solve out loud. Share a milestone, no matter how big or small, that feels like a marathon to achieve. In short, quit screaming through our actions the words “I want it nnnnoooooowwwww!” like Veruca Salt did as she went sailing down the “rotten egg” chute!

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Racism: One Heaven. -By Donna

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Growing up I adored the outside and spent most of my summer days in the sun. I loved to swim, ride bikes, and play with the dog. Working in the garden was a daily chore. I tanned so dark. My mother and older brother had very white skin; he even had red hair. My younger brother and I had black hair and dark skin. Many times in public, my mother was asked if we were adopted. I didn’t like my skin because I didn’t want people to think I was adopted,  because I wasn’t. I just looked different.

Bullied

In middle school (which we called Junior High), I was bullied. When I was in sixth grade, a group of eighth grade girls targeted me.They would call me names and shove me. In PE one day, the sixth-grade girls were doing an activity with the parachute as the eighth-grade girls sat watching. If you have ever played with the parachute, you know the game. The teacher called out “under the mountain”. We raised the parachute as high as we could, then twisted our bodies under it, pulled it down to the ground and sat on the sides. It forms a huge mountain. As we all sat underneath laughing, I began feeling the kicks. I slid away from the edge, but they kept coming. When we all came out from the parachute, I looked up at them in the bleachers, and they were laughing. I just couldn’t understand why. 

Days later, as I passed them in the hallway, one of them yelled, “Who is black? Your mama or your daddy?” Then I knew why they were picking on me. They assumed I was of mixed race, and they didn’t like that. Both my parents are white, but I have Native American on my mother’s side. So, technically if you look at my lineage you would see I am of mixed race.

Our Georgia kindergarten standards cover Martin Luther King Jr.  The school I teach at is predominately white. Each year as I read the watered-down story about his childhood, I watch the faces of my students. I see their confusion. “Why? Why won’t his dad (the Caucasian boy’s) let him play with Martin anymore?” I see compassion. “They hurt his feelings. He is sad.” I see anger. “They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

In the Eyes of a Child

What I see is how my kindergartners accept each other; not caring if their classmates have a speech impediment, dress in dirty clothes, are over weight, or wear an eye patch. They see these differences clearly and may ask, “Why do you talk like that, or why are you wearing that?” They ask, but they don’t care. I have found that at this age, most children are unaware of past racism or current racism, and are not aware of either side of the story.

But somewhere along the way, many people become prejudice. Children are born with pure thoughts, until they are tainted with the world’s hatred.

(Proverbs 22:6)  Start children off the way they should go, and even when they are old the will not turn from it.

We are all descendants of Adam and Eve. No matter the color of our skin, we are all equal in God’s eyes. There will be one heaven for us all, and we will all be perfect.

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Photographs: Not Just a Picture, But a Memory -By Donna

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   If your house were on fire what items would you try to save? Many people say old pictures. I do too! I have always loved pictures, and they can be so powerful. Photographs leave a legacy. People don’t often realize that a picture of themselves can very well outlive them. Through pictures we can see relatives we never met, but we can preserve their image.

    Pictures are small pieces of the puzzle of our life. Some of those pieces bring back laughter, while others bring tears. Everything is so digital now that most pictures are hidden in a phone or computer, so I try to print off my pictures. I love my photo albums as do my children. What looks like “just a picture” to one person, may be a whole story to another.

Sorrow Behind a Smile

   To anyone else this picture of Tucker and me, may just seem like a sweet moment. But behind my smile was sorrow. I had just returned from the hospital where I had a DNC for the baby that I miscarried. It reminds me of the ultrasounds, the tests, the bad news, and telling the kids.

The Cool Aunt

   This picture on the other hand brings laughter. It reminds me of Emily’s junior year in high school when I took her and her best friend to Florida. On the way back, our car broke down. My nephew and his friends happened to be in Florida at the same time. He was about an hour behind us. When he came by he picked us up. He had room for five, but there were seven total. So, two boys volunteered to ride in the back of the truck, under the cover with the luggage. My nephew was driving, Emily and Anna sat in the front passenger side sharing the seat. I sat in the back with two teenage boys. To save gas, he drove with the windows down. My hair was covering my face from the wind. The one type of music I despise is rap. I had to listen to it from Florida all the way to Atlanta! I was really feeling my age. But I smiled when they said I was the “cool” aunt because I didn’t make them turn it off.

Halloween Memories

   Today was October 31. I have many pictures of past Halloweens. This year Tucker was a lion, and from the picture you can tell he wasn’t feeling so well. My brother Keith was with us when we went trick or treating. Tucker’s hot costume wasn’t helping any and making him feel worse. So my brother jumped out of the van and began “trick or treating” for soda crackers to soothe Tucker’s tummy. That’s also the year that the first house we visited, “Dracula” answered the door and Travis was so scared he wouldn’t get out of the car again. My nephew, Justin had to collect candy for him.

   Last Christmas I was trying to think of what to get Mamaw, who was 96 and surely didn’t need another robe. I decided to sneak an old picture and have it restored and framed for her. Rather than getting a studio type picture, I chose the one of Papaw and her sitting on the hood of his truck. He had passed away over twenty years ago. In the picture they were in their teens and full of life. As her wrinkled, arthritic hands unwrapped the gift, her eyes filled with tears. She said, “Oh, this isn’t a picture, it’s a memory,” and she proceeded to tell every detail about that day.    –Donna

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Influence: You Never Know -By Donna

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After school today, I went to return something at the mall. As I walked in the store, a fellow, about 20, who was folding clothes, grinned and made a beeline to assist me. He was extremely friendly and polite; he asked me tons of questions about my day. I thought what a sweet boy, which made me glance at his name tag, Robby. Robby, I taught a boy name Robby once. As I looked back up, I saw the face of  a former six-year-old.

When my mind made the connection, I said, “I just realized who you are. I taught you.”

He replied, “You didn’t remember me?”

“I’m surprised you recognized me. That was a long time ago.” I said.

“Of course I do. You were my first grade teacher for a little while. But then they had to disperse the class and move you to another grade. After that year, my family moved, and I changed schools.”

“You are right! That’s exactly what happened.”

“Those were good times. I’m so glad to see you again.” He smiled as he handed me my receipt.

Now, normally I am quick to recognize a former student. But I only taught this child for about six weeks. Having taught school for over twenty years, I have encountered a lot of children. Teachers say they don’t have favorites, but there are some kids, that take a special place in your heart and it never goes away. Though Robby was a great kid, cute as a button and sweet as pie, he was not one of those kids who stole my heart.

The Next Larry Bird

As I walked out of the mall, I thought of a former student, Alan. He was one of those kids. In the beginning, we had no special connection. For a good portion of the year, I looked at him as a good kid to have in my class. He always followed the rules and made good grades. One morning as each child walked into my room, I announced something good I had noticed about them. “And here comes Kay as always sporting her cheerful smile.” “Introducing Denver, who I saw was the fastest runner on the playground yesterday.” “Look at Mike, the awesome artist of the room.” Alan was late that morning, so when he walked in, everyone was in their seat working. As he tried to slip in without drawing attention to himself, I proclaimed, “And here comes Alan, the next Larry Bird! I saw you dribbling ball yesterday.”

In unison, most of the class replied, “Who is Larry Bird?” My reply, “What! Y’all don’t know who Larry Bird is? Am I that old? He was one of the best basketball players ever!” As I explained, Alan stood  grinning from ear to ear. That one comment changed my relationship with that child. From that day on, he became attached to me.

Later in the year, a fellow teacher commented to me, “You need to take him home with you; he needs a real mom.” I nosed around and discovered stories that I won’t share. Let’s just say, he didn’t have a great mom. Nothing horrible, but sad no less. When May rolled around, we made our Mother’s Day gifts. As we bagged them up in the decorated brown paper sacks, he came up to my desk. The eight-year-old crawled in my lap and said, “I want to give mine to you.”

At the end of the year, his mother withdrew him, and they moved away. I cried.

Do Your Remember Me?

About ten years later I was at an out-of-town basketball game, and I saw Alan. I knew instantly from afar it was him. When I saw him head for the concession stand, I took off to speak to him. I was so excited; I couldn’t wait. Walking into the lobby, he looked up, and I smiled. He turned away from me. Surely, he remembers me! How can he not? He treated me like I was his mom. “Hey, Alan.” He turned around and said hey. But the look on his face said to me he didn’t know who I was. “Do you remember me? I was your second grade teacher.”

He smiled and said, “I think so.”  But I really don’t think he did.

I can’t believe Alan was so attached to me and did not remember me. I just knew, even when he was fifty years old, he would recall me! And then Robby who I only taught for six weeks, and I didn’t recognize, was so excited to see me. I guess you don’t always realize the impact you are having on someone.

Sometimes, like with Alan, a teacher’s care impacts a child only in the current chapter of his life because he needs you at that moment. Other students like Robbie you leave a lasting footprint in their life. For a teacher the important thing to remember is you do make a difference.  -Donna

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Relaxation: Not Your Normal R & R. -By Karla

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It is rare when one can say they have been on vacation (five states in ten days) with two Rachel Elizabeth’s! One Rachel is my youngest daughter, and the other is her best friend, who I call my fourth daughter.

If I was making a commercial, I could list the individual ways we spent money: airfare, rental car, gas, hotels, and food.

But instead, I choose to focus on the priceless parts of our trip. The longer I live, the more I have learned to appreciate the senses God gave us.

Gift of Sight

     I etched some visions from this trip into my heart. I had the pleasure of watching my “fourth daughter’s” face light up,  seeing the beauty of the west coast. Her enthusiasm of seeing the Golden Gate Bridge stretch over the bay was precious. Driving up Hwy. 1, which weaves along the coast, we watched the waves crash into the rocky terrain. We talked about God’s power. His might was also seen in the enormous redwood trees! One of my Rachel’s most cherished sites was seeing her Aunt Jeanie and Uncle Bill’s enthusiasm when they greeted her. She seemed to be making mental photographs of her grandparents, knowing it will be a while before she saw them again.

     Perhaps, the most precious site on our whirl–wind trip was our amazement as Great-Grandma Mona, who is 93. On afternoon she slid into the floor for my Rachel to play with her hair. Then she practically jumped up out of the floor!

Scents

Refreshing smells of salt in the ocean and sweet perfume made me smile over the past ten days. The odor of urine, from the mass of homeless people on the streets of downtown Portland, made us so grateful for our blessings.

Scrumdiddlyumptious 

Ah, the food that our mouths inhaled! I savored clam chowder on the pier in San Francisco. We ate burgers cooked by my sister-in-law outside Sacramento. Then in Oregon we devoured meatballs made by a beloved cousin and the barbecued tuna grilled at my brother and sister-in-law. Finally, there was a specialness in the taste of Applebee’s chips and dips simply because we had driven 20 extra miles to cross the state line and spend the night in Vancouver, Washington.

Tantalizing Touch

     God seems to think of everything; how remarkable is our sense of touch? In California, I held Grandma’s sweet, worn-out leathery hands. Her hug embraced me, reassuring me that one time or distance would change the love she had for me. Later in Sacramento and in Portland, we sensed the uncertainty of a few double-decker and draw bridges as we tightly. We had the pleasure of feeling a cool breeze by the coasts, and for this menopausal women, it was even more of a treat! Along with some of windy moments, we felt the warmth of smooth sand on our feet as the three of us sat with my in-laws enjoying some sweet stories with each other. And, there was the feeling of a tear or two that trickled down my face as we left each relative’s residence.

The Sounds of this Season of Life

Many of the adults I have adored over the years now need help with their hearing. The most blessed sounds I heard on the trip were the sweet caregivers at the assisted living home where Grandma Mona and Grandpa Jack lived. “Good morning, Jack, I brought in your medicine,” or the joyful, young lady who greeted us at breakfast, “Mona, what could I get you for breakfast this morning?”

The sound of laughter accompanied the three of us as we rode from city to city was priceless. “Hey, Mom, I think this is your lake up ahead. It’s named Loon Lake!”

     The Sense of Belonging

Rachel and Rachel were troopers, having to hang out with a 50 year old on this trip. I know I am blessed; they made me feel a little more carefree and young again. I believe I did ok, hanging with them, until I accidently called the rapper Tupac, “Toepac”!

Visiting with relatives, who could have allowed life to separate us, rewarded me with some of the most precious gifts of all time.

Over the past ten days, R & R took on a whole new meaning! And I have the selfies to prove it!

-Karla

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