Christianity is the Problem

World, we have a lot of problems.

Sometimes I feel like an eighty year old watching the VMAs for the first time, shaking my head at the vulgarity, the cynicism, the anger that I see unfolding before me. 

But it's not because I'm watching Miley Cyrus twerk, and it's not because I'm analyzing fashion on the red carpet. (Although that always solicits the same response from me.) It's not because I'm exposing myself to only mainstream media, or an entertainment industry that is borderline pornographic. 

It's because I'm having conversations with Christians.

Christians, people.

The very ones who are supposed to engage themselves in a life-long endeavor of reflecting nothing but goodness, the perfection that was God's son.

These are the people who, lately, I have found to be the most hostile.

I'm not one to shy away from controversial topics.  It's not in my nature. The day before yesterday, I posted a blog, calling out all fellow conservatives for the way they were behaving.  Today, I'm doing the same thing to Christians. 

Because of the way a lot of them acted yesterday.

Yesterday, I engaged in quite a few conversations with people who had never been teachers before. I told them my opinions were based on years experience in the classroom, that I was an effective educator and had two degrees I earned studying the craft. Although some amazing leaders paused to reevaluate their own line of thinking and valued my insight, a few scoffed at me, belittled my experience, and even said I was saying what I was because I had an "inflated view of my worth" and was "self-entitled".

And if they weren't audacious enough to say those words, some oozed the same sentiment with the demeaning tone they used.

Wow.  Just, wow.

In a private conversation, I'd asked one of them what his own belief was. I thought it was a fair question to ask, since I had laid all of my values out on the table for him to feast on. He told me he was a Christian.

I'm sure he is.  I'm not judging him, saying he's not one simply because he wasn't acting like one.  Lord knows I've made mistakes. I fail Him all the time because I act un-Christlike.

But the problem I'm calling him out on - every Christian, for that matter - is the fact that he thinks his acts and tone he exhibited yesterday are justified.

He truly believes that he can continue to judge others because God judges.  He truly believes that he can admonish others for thinking differently. After all, he accepted Christ as his savior, so wouldn't he be held in a higher regard than others?

No, Christian.

That point of view makes you like the Pharisees.  The very people responsible for the crucifixion and death of Jesus.

You are special and incredibly loved, but your worth is no more than a non-Christian.

My pastor touched on this topic a couple of months ago. You can watch that sermon here if you want.  In that sermon, he informed me that the word "Christian" is used only a few times in the Bible, and each time it's used, it's condemning the judgmental Christians who think highly of themselves compared to those who haven't accepted Christ.

My pastor told me, "Christ doesn't call us to be Christians.  He calls us to be disciples."

Um. A disciple? A dead guy, the ones from the Bible?  But I can't be them.  That's the name Jesus gave them, right?  Aren't they some special group that's exclusive?

No, they aren't.  And being one of them isn't a horribly lofty goal, either.

Look at the twelve men that Jesus chose to be in his inner circle.  (Outside of the twelve men, his inner circle included women, too, which was extremely radical at the time he lived.)

Those people questioned. (Thomas)

Those people betrayed. (Judas)

Those people were even accused of letting evil dictate their questions and acts. (Peter)

 

I could go on.

The disciples weren't perfect, and neither are we. 

But they loved Christ.  Immensely, intensely, with all that they had. In the end, every disciple but Judas and John was martyred for their beliefs. They were so insane - crazy in love with Christ - that they died horrific deaths to make sure that everyone could know him intimately. 

They're the reason we all can know him intimately today.

Not the Pharisees. Not the Christians. 

The disciples.

I know that we have a job here on this Earth, and it's not to amicably go along with a culture of degradation and evil intent. We need to stand up against those things.

But when we do, we have to ask ourselves how Jesus would do it, because we are called to be reflections of Him.

Did Jesus admonish sinners and refuse to listen to their points of view? Did He use belittling sarcasm to make his points, or did He use insightful questions and parables to get His points across?  Didn't He listen patiently and pose questions to make them rethink their stances on several topics? 

Did He separate Himself from their company, or did He love them through their messes?

What are you doing, Christian?

Being a Christian - a disciple - doesn't mean you read from your Bible and devotionals. It helps, don't get me wrong. You grow in your relationship, the same way a husband and wife grow in theirs when they spend time together. 

It doesn't mean you allot two hours of your day to studying the Bible and spend the rest of the day admonishing the world.  

Being a Christian doesn't mean you refuse to listen to popular music or watch television, or condemn those that do.

Being a Christian - the disciple that Jesus yearns for us to be - means making it your life's quest to be a reflection of Him. And that means showing His fruits, to each and every person at all times.

Galatians 5:22-23

²² But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

In all things, show love.  In all things, spread joy.  Aim for peace and forbearance.  Even in strife, show kindness, gentleness, and goodness, and even when you're persecuted, show self-control and have faith that everything will be okay.

Because the stakes are high, people.  We are presenting our youth with two choices: be accepted for your sin and engage in narcissism, or become followers of something that seems restrictive and condescending.

Those choices aren't good enough.  We need to share with them the inexplicable joy that is knowing Christ. Sure, we can do this through facts and knowledge and a deep study of history, but first - always first- we need to show them Christ. And we can only do that by being the best reflection of Him we can be.

We will always have different views and dissent in this world.  It's the curse of living in it.  It won't always be this way, though.

So Christians, we need to recognize the problem, and the problem is us.

Evil will always exist, but the way we've come to handle our exposure to it cannot continue to.

Because evil is tricky. It masks itself with good intentions, but ill-enforced acts.

We need to do a better job being a reflection of Christ's love.  Quit judging.  Stop with the righteousness.

Be a disciple.

Fix the problem that is Christianity.

Stay the Heck Out of my Classroom

If you haven't heard what's going on in one of our nation's largest school districts, you might want to start paying attention. In Jefferson County, Colorado, a storm is brewing, and it's a microcosm of the hurricane swallowing America. It's divisive at its core, and it's plotting neighbor against neighbor, teachers against parents, and - surprise, surprise - conservatives vs. liberals.

Disclaimer: I am a traditionalist, conservative through and through. I am also a teacher. I am around people of all ideologues every day, and I am privy to information that some people don't have since I have a front seat to this three-ringed circus. I am a walking contradiction to some, voting almost strictly Republican or Libertarian, but also a member of a teacher's union.

I have heard both sides, and I am troubled.

You see, last year, Jefferson County voted on a new school board majority. This was hardly headline news, but it ended up being transformative for the state's largest (the nation's 32nd largest) school district.

But is the transformation good or bad?

Well, in the field of education reform, it's troubling, to say the least.

The board majority ran on the basis that they were conservative. Many far-left leaning articles love to remind their readers of this. But I am here to argue that they are not conservative. They are not liberal.

They are politicians.

They are trying to lead the way in reforming education, and I truly believe they think they are doing what is right for kids.  The problem is that none of the board majority has spent time as an educator, and it is pretty obvious that they are not ones to trust educators' opinions.

Is this warranted? I could see where they might think so. I have seen bad teachers remain in highly-paid positions because of a flawed payment system. I have read about unions flexing their political and monetary muscles to ensure that ineffective (sometimes even abusive) teachers remain employed. I have heard about skewed benefits and early retirements. I have seen documentaries showcasing lazy teachers who read newspapers during class and let their students do whatever they want.

But unlike the board majority, I recognize that what I listed above - although it's horrible - seldom happens. It is sensationalized, much like most of what we read or watch in the media.

I know this because I have been in education for almost a decade. I have been in classrooms in three different states, across all socioeconomic statuses and geo-political boundaries.

I know that teachers are good people. They didn't enter the field for money or notoriety. They didn't become teachers because of some alpha-ego complex and weren't thinking of their early retirement at the ripe age of 22. They had no plans to infiltrate the education system and promote a nationalist agenda like the Nazis.

They became teachers because they wanted to help the kids they love learn. 

There's no other explanation for them doing what they do.

Day in and day out, they adhere to the needs of 25-30 students, and they make sure they are meeting the needs and expectations of their students' parents as well.

They study curriculum and plan activities to ensure all children learn the way they are biologically wired to learn.

They make sure your children are safe from all this ill-intended world has to inflict upon them, with no regard for their own safety.

They do this for 187 days/year, and contrary to the public's understanding, they only get paid for those 187 days. It's split up into monthly payments to ensure they can provide for their own families during the summer months and winter break.

Their benefits have been dwindling at the same rate as those outside of the field of education, and their retirement age is now that of most in the private sector, as long as they've contributed to a retirement plan. Each month, they pay 8-10% of their meager income, just like the rest of the population, to make sure that they will have something to live off of after their careers are over.

And they are paid, on average, $1-$2 per child per contact hour (five hours/day) they have with that child.

Less than what a teenage sitter with no expertise charges.

Conservatives, don't assume that teachers have it easy because they get breaks and because they can retire.

Liberals, don't assume that teachers have it harder than others in the field of monetary compensation. The whole business world was been hit by the recession.

Conservatives, please know that I sat at a union meeting where teachers voted to take a pay cut to ensure our students get the education and individual attention they need.

Liberals, please work for the needs of our effective teachers that did this, not the ineffective or partially effective teachers who aren't good at their jobs.

Politics in general, stay the heck out of my classroom.

Conservatives, it is true that democrats make up the majority of our teachers.  But you are alienating them, including the conservative ones, with your attitude of mistrust and arrogance.

Liberals, you have taken advantage of your power in the classroom in the past and have protected teachers who have passed their views on to their students.

No more.

No more.

No more.

Politics, stay the heck out of my classroom.

Now there is a movement by the board to review the Social Studies AP curriculum.  I'm not against the right of the general public, or even the board itself, to review any curriculum.  In fact, I applaud involved parents and community members. But based on Ms. William's comments about the curriculum and by researching her background, I don't think she's an expert in curriculum development, and I fear that she's not valuing the opinion of those who are.

I'd like to believe her intentions are pure.  I really would.  But the board majority has shown anything but pure intentions since the beginning of its reign.

No, I don't believe that the board majority is looking to spend thousands of dollars because the Social Studies curriculum is glaringly one-sided.  In fact, I believe their actions are a retaliation of the common core philosophy that conservatives hate. Some reasons common core is hated are valid, but some are a result of blatant fear-mongering.

Board majority, stop being political. I know you were voted in because Colorado had voted far-left for much too long for conservatives. I hated the fact that marijuana was legalized and that we've been in the blue instead of the red for as long as I've lived here.

But, board majority, take your ideology and put your concerns where it belongs: in politics.

I know education is a concern for all, and it should be. But you're using your power in education to make a conservative statement while having only a little - if any - educational expertise.

And you're not trusting those that do.

Your compensation plan is a slap in the face, even for high-performing teachers.

Your curriculum changes are expensive and unnecessary. And speaking of expensive and unnecessary, you hired a superintendent who has never had experience in the position at a starting salary tens of thousands of dollars over our old one (who had many more years experience and data to confirm she was effective). I find that reckless. The $40,000 you spent to find him in a "nationwide search" (and he was just next door in Douglas County!) is even more so.

How in the world are you being fiscally conservative like the conservatives who voted you in???

Don't get me wrong.  I hope and pray that Superintendent McMinimee is effective and helps increase our scores. He has done nothing so far to make me question that he's good at his job. He has walked into a horribly complicated, unhappy situation and has handled it with dignity. He seems like a nice man and has been nothing but polite to me. I hope he helps us succeed. I really do.

But conservatives typically believe that educators must be paid based on performance. If this is true, then doesn't he need to prove his effectiveness before being given a huge increase in salary, one that exceeds the previous Superintendent's salary after she was there for years?

Isn't it hypocrisy at its finest to be okay with it in one instance, but not okay with it in another?

Last year, Douglas County's scores fell, pretty uniformly and across the board. Jeffco's TCAP scores were consistently higher than the average state scores during Stevenson's time as Superintendent, and last year was the same.

But she never got the salary he's getting in his first year, which is unproven thus far.

Shame on you for saying you're conservative and have the public's interests at heart. Shame on you.

I know there's a backlash against the liberal leaning in this state, but those actions do not belong in the field of education.

Give me the statistics that say AP students don't know the topics that Julie Williams outlined.

Show me how teachers sway their students to convert their thinking into a reflection of their own.

If there are teachers and if there is curriculum that is left-leaning, looking to convert students, then it needs to be dealt with.

But I am a conservative minority in Jeffco Schools, and I don't see it.

I can only think of one instance where a teacher told students of her political affiliation, and I've lived in Colorado for five elections.

As a teacher, my students always tried to guess what I felt about a certain situation or candidate, and I presented both sides without trying to sway them one way or another.

And all teachers but the one I mentioned above adhered to that same philosophy.

Politics. Teachers know that it needs to stay out of our classrooms, that students don't need to be subjected to the ugliness of it until they are old enough to be able to think critically for themselves, to look at the facts and draw their own conclusions.

But the left and right keep sneaking politics in, whether it's through NCLB and Reading First, or Common Core and the new curriculum.

They do this because they are politicians.

But school boards were never intended to be political, and there is a reason for it.

Because politics need to stay the heck out of our classrooms.

Let the facts be taught, and let the values and opinions centered around those facts be discussed at the dinner table with families. Let the students think critically for themselves and be introduced to different ideas without being forced to adhere to a single one.

Let the kids be kids, for crying out loud.

And politics, stay where you are meant to stay.

Out of my classroom.

To A Future Teacher

Dear Future Teacher,

I am so happy to meet you.  Looking in your eyes, I see the same excitement and enthusiasm that I still have in mine.  You are ready to make a difference in the lives of young ones, to teach them how to think, how to problem-solve, create, and how to draw conclusions. You are ready to be a faithful, trustworthy, and consistent mentor in their lives. You are ready to love these children almost as much as you love your own and invest every particle of your being into making them successful, which will make you feel successful, too.

I am so happy you chose this rewarding career, that you are doing something God made you to do.  You won't ever regret it.  Teachers are a special breed of people, and I know you are up to the task.  But before you embark on this journey, you need to know a few obstacles that you will have to overcome:

1) You need to know that no matter how hard you try, how much of a difference you try to make, sometimes you will feel like a failure.  But know deep in your heart that this is not true.  Although you may not feel like you're making any difference in the lives of the students you teach, you are.  Your job will be thankless at times, and that's okay.  Your "thank you" will be told to you someday, whether it's at a graduation or at a grocery store when you run into former students.  Love them dearly, try your best, and invest every cell of your body into this field you love so much, and you will see them blossom.  And their success will be your greatest reward.

2) You will never be able to keep these students at a distance and run your classroom like a business.  It's just impossible.  If you're a good teacher, you will leave a little part of your heart in that classroom every day. You cannot "fire" those who aren't doing their job and "hire" those that will. And you won't ever want to, because believing every student can learn will be part of your innermost being. It will be what keeps you going when all you want to do is give up. There will be people who will say - probably with good intentions - that your salary should solely be determined by the outcome of your students' performance.  Don't hate them or even roll your eyes.  Stand up for yourself.  Show them that you know best practices, but also inform them of the obstacles you face.

3) You cannot ignore the outside variables that will affect the outcome of how you teach. 

Some students will come to you without any food to eat at home, or after a sleepless night listening to their mom get beat up. Make sure your heart and ears and eyes are open to their ugly reality. 

Some students will come from another country, where they feared for their lives on a daily basis. Do the best you can to make them feel safe. 

Some students will come from a home where you are belittled, and because those students love you, they will feel torn. Love them, anyway. 

It will feel impossible to teach them because of what is going on in their lives, but teach them anyway.  They desperately need what you are giving them, the hope that there is a future away from the fear that they have always known.

4) People will think you do this work for the early retirement, great benefits, and summers off.  They will justify your less-than-meager salary with these things, but take note, dear teacher of children: you don't get to retire early.  Maybe there was a time where teachers did, but that retirement model wasn't sustainable so that is no longer true.  The benefits are also dwindling.  Every year, they shrink in size, rather than grow more robust, a consequence of changes in our country's healthcare system. Teachers pay out-of-pocket for more things now than they did a few years ago, just like most careers.  

And this is especially important, future teacher: you don't get paid for your summers off.  Your salary is based only on the 187 days you work.  Your school district will find your daily rate and multiply it by 187 to get your annual salary. Then they will divide your annual salary by 12 so you get paid throughout the year, rather than miss a paycheck during the eight weeks you have off in the summer. And this is a tough pill to swallow, too, teacher: your daily salary for teaching thirty students for only five hours (not including your lunch or planning periods) will be less than it would if you were charging only $3 per hour/child to run a day care, and that's if you're the highest-paid teacher with the most degrees and the most experience.  In fact, over half of all teachers will earn less than $1 per hour/child if they have a classroom of thirty students. That's much less than what day cares charge. Or even teenage sitters. And you will be responsible for much, much more. 

5) You will never take advantage of the breaks you get.  You will grade papers and develop lesson plans. You will organize and prepare your classroom and buy supplies. And even if you put in the extra hours days before a break to get all of that done so you can relax, you won't.  You will close your eyes and think about those sweet cherubs you teach.  You will call colleagues and ask for advice on how to best get through to a certain student.  You will wonder if they're doing okay, even when you are supposed to be taking time off. Liken it to being a parent: even though you're away from your kids, you think about them and want to do what's best for them.

6) You will feel guilty.  You will be grading papers at your own children's games.  You will ignore time with your spouse so you can grade papers and collect data. You will feel like you are putting your students' needs before your family's, and if you choose to "leave work at work," you will inevitably feel like you are cheating your students.  Recognize that guilt and rectify it.  You are only one person trying to please too many.  Do what you can, but acknowledge your limitations.

7) Stand up for yourself.  You will be told that you deserve the pay you get and that your job is easy with amazing benefits.  But you are an intelligent, capable person with the same schooling most people have in the business world, maybe even more.  You may be told to spend ten to fifteen thousand dollars of your own money (sometimes half of your yearly salary) to get an additional degree so you become more knowledgeable in your field.  And sometimes, the promise of a pay raise that goes with that investment becomes an empty one. Sometimes the raise your district offers you will be a slap in the face for the years you put in and the money you invested in perfecting your craft.  You will agree to a pay cut so students' needs don't go unmet, only to be accused that you put your own needs before theirs when you ask for a raise.

Don't buy it.  Not for one second.  Because you are teaching students something outside of the curriculum, teachers.  You are teaching them how to value your own hard work, how to be proud of what you do, and stand up for yourself.  Don't allow yourself to be demonized for knowing you deserve more for doing a job well done. Part of a person's character is recognizing every person's worth, and that includes your own.  

Future teacher, you will make a difference in students' lives. Every day.

You will worry yourself sick over at least one of your students.  Every year.

And you will feel guilty for wanting to earn a living doing what you love to do. Every second. 

But take heart, and be courageous.  Because those smiling faces with proud eyes are the best reward, and your efforts will not go unnoticed. Your courage will be a model for all students who feel hopeless and lost at times.  Your confidence will show your students to take pride in whatever work God asks them to do.  

You, future teacher, will do much more than "just" teach for summers off.  You will change lives at the expense of your own, just as parents do.  And you'll be okay with it.  It's what you were born to do.

Love,

A Lifelong Learner and Fellow Teacher

A Life Complete

"He lived a full life."

I've heard this before, at funerals and in obituaries. Men who have gone through almost all of life's milestones - have checked them off like a list - can say they lived a 'full life'. We often do this in our society to make sure we have been important enough to have made a difference.

Got braces? Check.  Went to prom? Check. Got married? Check. Kids? Cars? House in the Suburbs? Retirement? Check, check, check, check.

And the more checks the person had, the more comfort it brings to those who mourn him: the man who lived the 'full life'.

But the more devastation it brings to those who mourn a child who didn't.

I have a dear friend, Beth, who I met initially because I taught both of her sons.  Beth was a regular volunteer in my classroom, and even after her boys got older, we stayed in touch because we genuinely liked each other.  It'd been awhile since we'd talked, though, so two summers ago I emailed her to see how life was going.

She responded quickly and animatedly, telling me of what her boys were doing and assuring me that we'd find the time soon to catch up. But all of that changed when just two weeks later, she sent me an email saying that her youngest boy, Ian, had been diagnosed with osteocarcoma. 

Bone cancer.

He was just 14, and it didn't look good.  

Ian didn't have good news initially, but he had a whole community rally behind him. Thousands of the faithful prayed for his recovery. His parents spared no money when it came to his treatment. His mom, a nurse, did everything in her power even at home to try and make him better. They tried traditional medicine, the holistic route, spiritual pray sessions. Everything. 

And it didn't work.  

Beth had every right to be angry at God.  She lost her little boy less than a year after he was first diagnosed. He never got to go to prom, let alone get married and do all of the stuff that comes after that.

Most people chalked it up as a tragedy and cried, and then returned to life as usual, praying nothing like that would ever happen to them.

Because it was tragic, what happened to Ian.

Just a month or so ago, I caught up with Beth over a cup of coffee.  As usual, I asked her how she was doing, and after a few times of me doing this, Beth learned to answer honestly.  

"There are days I'm angry," she said.  "I feel cheated as a mom, and I just miss him."  

I nodded, trying to show that I understood, but couldn't comprehend, a contradiction in my own heart.

"And you know, Amanda," she continued,  "the thing that I finally understood this past week was this: Ian led a full life."

I blinked when she said that.  I didn't expect to hear it.  No one ever says a fourteen year-old lived a full life, especially when almost a year of it was spent in a hospital bed undergoing chemotherapy treatments.

"From the moment he was conceived," Beth explained, "God knew how much time he would spend on this Earth.  He knows that about all of us.  And whether we're ninety or nine, we've all led the life we were meant to lead.  We've all done what we were meant to do. That makes me feel better, knowing that Ian accomplished what he was sent here to do." She later sent me this picture, a snippet of advice taken from Max Lucado:

Such beauty coming from an already beautiful woman.  She had just lost her son, her heart torn from her body, and yet she was still able to understand that Ian led the life God wanted him to lead. And when it was time for God to call him home, He did.

What Beth said that day resonated with me, and I think it applies to people of all ages.

Just this weekend, I did the best I could to help my 93 year old grandpa around the house.  My grandma is not well, and he spends his days making her health a priority.  His own health isn't what it used to be, so keeping the house as spotless as he was used to is getting harder and harder. 

I had just finished washing the windows when I met him in the kitchen.  He was fetching a glass of juice for my grandma, trying to sneak in an extra hundred calories to help fill her bony frame.

"Thanks for doing that, Squirt," he said, nodding to the windows.

"No problem," I replied.  "Since I'm the tall one, it's easy for me to do." I smiled at my attempt at a joke. I'm fairly tall at 5'10", and my grandpa has probably shrunk to about 5'6".  

"Yep, I woulda probably had to get the ladder out," he explained in slow way, his deep voice filling the room.  "My shoulder doesn't hold up the way it used to, so I can't reach up as well. And my leg can kinda feel funny when I'm standing on those things." He finished pouring the juice and held it up as a reminder of how sick my grandma had gotten this past week. "I tell ya kid, it's hell gettin' old."

"Yeah," I sighed.  "It makes you wonder if there really is some glamour in dying young, huh?" 

He nodded, the look on his face sincere and sad.

A man like Granddad, so proud and so hardworking, hates to ask for help.  He hates watching people like me whip out a job he used to do easily.  And taking care of an ailing, elderly wife has reminded him of how fragile a person's health is as he or she gets older.

I mean, if dying young is a tragedy, then surely living past your prime and becoming dependent on others is, too.

But after Granddad left the room, I started thinking about what Beth said: 

How we all have lived full lives, despite the number of years we've spent on this Earth.

And I think that same truth holds true for my grandparents. They are living past their peers.  There were only two people in my grandma's graduating high school class at her reunion this year. Two.  Their calendar is full of three things: grandkids' birthdays, the senior citizen center menu, and doctor appointments.  The Lions Club meetings, PEO, and church and social gatherings have all slowly died away.  

They don't understand this fast-paced world and don't want to be a part of it.  Their closest friends have passed away and sometimes their mind doesn't seem right.  Every body part aches, and at least part of their heart wishes their time was done. But another part of it is petrified of the thought of not waking up, despite the pain.

These people have lived 'full' lives. And yet they're still here. And it doesn't make sense, at least at face value.

But it does if you trust in the process of God changing people.

You see, my grandfather never thought he'd grow this old.  He was always convinced he would die young, since his own father had.  Through his first 90 years, he was tough, gruff, and straightforward.  

He didn't do things like take over the cooking and cleaning so my grandma could rest. 

He didn't hold her hand.

He didn't caress her cheek tenderly.  In fact, I remember him faking a grimace at their 50th wedding anniversary when someone demanded they kiss.

When she made him a meal, she'd ask if he liked it, and he'd always say "no".  Of course he was teasing, but he didn't exactly make up for it with eloquent praise at a later time. 

My grandpa was the opposite of affectionate.

But just a couple of short months after he turned 92, he got a grim diagnosis about the love of his life.

And he changed. He's courting her again and reminding her of his love every day.

It's beautiful.

And we get to see it.  All because he's lived until 93, rather than 92.  

Had his life ended sooner, God wouldn't have given us this glimpse of him.  And I can tell you with 100% honesty that this side of my Granddad is creating tender memories and allowing us to see a different side of him than we've ever seen before.

And if we can see all of this change, imagine what kind of change is occurring in his own heart.

We will all have full lives, no matter when we go.  

I think about my cousin, who just lost her twins.  She miscarried. She never got to nurse them or hear them laugh or meet any of life's milestones.

But the other day, she posted a picture of two sets of tiny footprints on Facebook. And those tiny footprints couldn't look more human. They made an imprint on our hearts.

Maybe we hugged our own babies a little tighter because of them.  Maybe a woman who just found out she was pregnant will see those footprints and rethink her choice as she walks into a clinic. Maybe my cousins can look at those footprints and know that their babies are being rocked to sleep by God, and that someday they will have the chance to do the same in paradise.

In the end, we will have all led full lives, whether we're fourteen, ninety-three, or not yet born.

We've made the impact we were meant to make, at the time we needed to make it, for the people God hand-delivered to us.

We have all lived a life complete.

When Saying 'Grace' is My Saving Grace

Grace: I need it now.

Grace: I should have shown it five minutes ago.

Grace: Lord, I need it in order to get through the day.

Grace.

I've said it more than a few times today, and I'm not talking about the prayer before meals.

I'm talking about something I draw upon when I feel like I have nothing to offer the world, let alone those who depend on me most.

Grace.

In the last twelve hours, I've needed a lot of it.

My daughter wet the bed.  I try to be patient about it and understanding. On the outside I tell her it's okay as I change the sheets, but sometimes a voice is saying, "She's three, for crying out loud.  Other three year-olds are doing this.  Why can't she?"

Grace.

My one year-old son won't sleep.  I've tried letting him cry it out, the soothe and remove technique, rocking him, everything. I've read the books, but he must be one of 'those' kids no one writes about because none of the expert advice is working.  Why is he adamantly refusing something he so desperately needs?

Grace.

After hours of working outside all day, my husband enters the mess and the chaos inside and asks for coffee and a snack while he washes his hands. I want to scream at him that I don't have time to adhere to the kids' needs or my own, so why should I even consider his?

Grace.

When I feel like my children... *sigh* Just. Aren't. Learning. When they seem to have a sixth sense that can identify and attack any weakness on my part, whether it's anxiety, exhaustion, a short temper, or a large to-do list.

I need to show them grace.

It was pointed out to me by a dear friend.  I was telling her how hard it was for me to forgive people.

My friend listened intently and said, "Aren't you glad that God doesn't have our limitations?  That He has loved us since the beginning, has known everything we've ever done wrong, every time we've ever fallen short... and yet He still loves us. He hasn't always approved of the way we acted, but He knew we were going to continue to grow in His presence, and He gave us the grace to do that."

Grace. 

The words were coming from my friend's mouth, but the message was coming from above. You see, I'd lived in a world - had honored a world - where achievement meant everything. And although I'd been taught it from a young age, grace meant nothing to me.

Until that day.  The day where I couldn't forgive a person for hurting me in a relatively insignificant way years ago.  The day I was losing patience because my two year-old and infant didn't know the rules of, well, life just yet.  The day I was holding a grudge against my husband for not knowing what I had been through the entire day.

And suddenly, God showed me what grace was.  Grace was Him, loving me.

Me? Could you imagine? Through all of my mistakes and all of my messes.  He showed me grace before I was even born, dying on a cross to show I was worth it. He has shown me grace for thirty years - even through my teenage years!- and he still does it, every hour of every day.

At one point in time I've been a faltering child, a rebellious teenager, a condescending adult, a judgmental Christian, an unloyal friend, a liar, a bully, a cheater, a sinner. I've been that person who usually grates on my nerves.  But I was forgiven through grace.

And I need to pass that kind of grace on, through acts of love, forgiveness, and patience.

I fail.  A lot.  But in the times I do succeed, the times where I close my eyes before I react and mutter, "Grace" under my breath, I can feel God's goodness washing over me.  And that goodness is so pure and honest and kind and understanding that it leaves my heart and becomes part of my mouth and my actions and reactions. 

When my son won't stop crying, I say it.  When my daughter spills orange juice all over the kitchen floor, I say it. When my husband's words are harsh, I say it. When a co-worker is abrupt, I say it.

Not all the time.  I still have a long way to go.  I'm still a hot mess that only He can clean up.  But I'm getting better every day.

In fact, the biggest obstacle of showing grace I've faced is this: to show grace to myself.

It's hard.  No one knows how horrible I am like I do, because they're not in my head.  They don't hear my judgmental thoughts or see my jealous appraisal of what others have. They don't see me lose my temper at home or neglect my kids and my house and my husband to, say, write a blog.

Ahem.

There are more times than I care to admit where I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, where I'm trying to be everything to everyone and I feel like I'm failing each person who is asking something of me.

I was late for church today because I underestimated the time it'd take to get ready. I didn't get any of my "to-do" list done for work, and the laundry is still heaped high in the hamper.

Grace.

It's the only thing keeping me together as I reach for a packaged meal in the cupboard, the kind where you can taste the added sodium, but not all of the added preservatives.  I tell myself that once in awhile, these kinds of food are okay for my family to eat and ignore the fact that we had a similar meal yesterday.  

My Pinterest is like a vault, where great ideas go in and nothing comes out.  Well, except for inappropriate e-cards I send my friends.

My home is clean at first glance, but my husband does it after he works all day.

My kids may or may not have discovered food remnants on the floor and eaten them for a snack. I may have went inside just for a second and come back out to see that my toddler son somehow got on the trampoline.

Grace.

I've got a lot to work on.  My kids do.  So does my husband, my friends, my family, my coworkers.

I can't solve every issue that they must confront, and I most definitely can't judge them for having the same problems that I do.  But what I can do is show them what will help them heal, and what will help heal me the more I practice it:

The Saving Grace that was (and always will be) a free gift.

When Romance Was What I Wanted

Yesterday morning I woke up to the news that my Grandpa Loyal was unresponsive. My family, led by my Grandma Mary, rushed to the nursing home, fearing that it'd be the last chance we'd have to say our official goodbye. All morning we waited, watching his skin grow grayer in color and his chest rise and fall less frequently. We were almost certain it was his last day with us.

Then, suddenly, he woke up. He was full of more energy than I've seen him have in a long time. He joked around for a while with each of us, then asked my grandma to sit next to him in the bed.

"Did ya miss me?" he asked. And her eyes filled with tears.

Man, if he only knew.

This was the woman who agonized over the decision to send him to the nursing home, only surrendering when she realized her four-foot-ten-inch frame couldn't possibly lift his six-foot body if he were to fall again. She visited him day after day, bringing him pictures from home so he'd have more to look at than the 13" TV in his room. It tore her apart that this was what was left of his life, so she made the concerted effort to suffer alongside him, giving up hours in her own comfortable home to sit by his bed while he was sleeping, determined to make herself breathe the same stale air and see the same things under florescent lights.

Of course she missed him. She missed what they were, and when he had almost left us, she missed what they'd been, even in the sad scenery that was the nursing home.

And then there's my other set of grandparents. Grandmom has stage four lung cancer and no appetite, so yesterday, Granddad decided to make her bottle of Boost taste better by adding ice cream and making a milkshake. He stirred that shake for twenty minutes to get it just right. Then he delivered it to her and said, "Look what your boyfriend made ya."

For the first time since she got home from the hospital, she drank the whole thing. With hopeful eyes and a strong gait, he set out to the grocery store and came back with more ice cream. "Figured I better stock up," he told me, hoping the words would hold more weight than the look in his eyes.

He paused before coming in and cut a rose and a marigold off of their stems with his pocketknife. Knowing how much she loves her flowerbeds, he put the two flowers in a jar for her to enjoy.

At 93, he leaned his old, achy body over and helped her out of her chair and to the bathroom, encouraging her the whole time with, "Doing great!" and "Getting stronger every day!"

And last night, before I left, he was placing her oxygen on her face and took a moment to caress her cheek. He didn't know I was watching, and I was glad because I had to hide my tears.

Up until this point in my life, I would have never described my grandparents as romantic couples. My grandpas were blue-collar workers who were more comfortable with dirt under their nails and sweat on their brow than they ever were when they were dressed up on a date. And my grandmas were the kind of women who showed love and respect for their husbands by keeping the house cleaned and making them a home-cooked meal every night. They never tried to make the other swoon with over-the-top acts of love.

But what is love, if it's not what my grandparents are doing for each other?

I've always thought I needed romance: the flowers and the poems and the dates and the surprises. But what I really need is what they have: a lifetime love. This kind of love is pure. It's genuine and loyal. It belongs to those who took an oath decades ago to love, honor, and cherish another person. And through the years - despite the hard times with no money, no passion, and no hope - they loved, anyway.

Yesterday God made me realize that we all need to appreciate our spouses a little more. We need to ride out the tough times and show them grace when our marriages feel bland. 

Because lifetime love is the best kind of love.

It can't be bought and isn't fueled or fooled by lustful desires. It's earned after a person has spent so much time with another that both of them feel like two bodies sharing a single soul.

Let's hold onto that kind of love, folks.

Because someday, I want my 93 year old hunk to make me a milkshake and tell me I'm his girlfriend.