"So you're going to go suffer for God's work!"

Why Germany? It's sad that I become hesitant to tell people that I am going on a mission trip to Germany. The response is almost always the same. "Why Germany?" or "Wow...that's some real suffering for God's work.", said with a wink and smile. If I was telling people that we were going to a third world country, I'd probably get some genuine empathy and admiration for the guaranteed, dramatic life changing experience that would ensue. I know that my friends, who are now full-time missionaries in Africa, have certainly left everything they know as normal here in the States to live without much of the luxuries they were used to. They see death, abuse and horrific circumstances that poverty and violence have left in their wake. We see beautiful scenery, amazing architecture...cathedrals and castles surround us. We eat great food and sleep in warm beds. We come into contact with people who are living their lives with no concern of what comes after death. We see child after child that won't hear the story of Jesus from their parents or a caring Sunday School teacher. We feel sadness...heavy darkness...as we travel by train and by foot. I can't really describe the feeling, but maybe these videos will help you to understand why it's important for us to go to Germany each year for as long as God is calling us to it. Below are two videos that Steven and Susan Jett had made to give the story of Bruehl, Germany. In the first video, you will see two people being interviewed. Both are neighbors of the Jetts and neither know Christ. The second video contains interviews with members of the church plant that we support when we travel to Germany. Aaron and I are passionate about Germany, because God designed us that way, just as God designed my niece Lilli to be passionate about human trafficking, and our friends to have a heart for Africa. None is less important to God. However...I'm often left to feel that way.

Light for Bruehl part 1 from Steven Jett on Vimeo.

Light for Bruehl part 2 from Steven Jett on Vimeo.

Developing a Filter

I was sitting at my computer this morning, wanting so badly to write, but nothing seemed to come to mind.  As I began watching some "Anderson 360 Ridiculist" clips, which by the way I love, I came across the one below. I couldn't find a way to imbed the video, so if you don't want to go to the trouble of copying and pasting the following link, I'll give you a synopsis.

http://cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/bestoftv/2012/10/10/ac-the-ridiculist-bad-report-cards.cnn.html

Sir John Gurdon just won the Nobel Prize for Medicine for his work in understanding how cells and organisms develop. As a fifteen year old student, his science teacher wrote the following on his report card.

"I believe he has ideas about becoming a scientist; on his present showing this is quite ridiculous, if he can't learn simple biological facts, he would have no chance of doing the work of a specialist and it would be a sheer waste of time both on his part and of those who have to teach him."

The teacher also mentions his unwillingness to listen and his persistence in doing things his own way. I'm going to assume good intention on the teacher's part, because I have taught myself to do that in every situation. Doing so dampens the fire that rises within me, when I believe some harm or injustice has been done. What saddens me is the fact that Sir John took the comments to heart as a young man and switched his studies from science to literature. But then by coincidence or by God's divine intervention, he was assigned a zoology class by mistake and his passion for science took him further than anyone could imagine. He admits that every time an experiment didn't work or he experienced any type of failure in the lab, he questioned if he was living out his teacher's prophecy.

As I think about Sir John Gurdon, an image of my daughter, Gracie, comes to mind. Let me try to describe the picture. Gracie is standing before me, ready for school. She is wearing a bright orange tie die skirt, a black school endorsed t-shirt and being pulled over her head at the very moment is a light blue sweat shirt that has some silliness displayed on the front. (I can't recall what the sweat shirt says on it, but its silly.) The outfit, in my opinion, is ridiculous and she knows it by my look and by previous experiences of me trying to get her to conform to my sense of color coordination and style. I don't comment, because it won't do any good, but I do ask her which shoes she's planning on wearing. She looks at me and says confidently, "I don't know, but they probably won't match." and walks into her bedroom.

I thank God for a daughter who doesn't conform. She calls herself an "artist", which gives her license to do her own thing in her own way. My mother-in-law always said that Gracie marches to her own drum beat. I don't know what she will be, but I pray that God gives her a filter far stronger than the one I have; a filter to block out the cruel criticism, thoughtlessness and advice that comes from good and bad intentions that could become stumbling blocks in her journey to become what God has designed her to be. I pray that every snicker and cruel word that she will surely face as she continues through school will fuel her innate desire to be herself and follow God's plan for her life. I pray that I will teach her to see herself only as God sees her and to dismiss the words and actions that threaten to bring her down and to cherish those that build her up.

Ephesians 2:10 

For we are God's masterpieces, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. 

I Love Living Here!

Southern Hospitality

I can take so many things for granted and often I plow through the day without recognizing the small gestures of complete strangers. In the past few days, God has given me a heightened sense of awareness to demonstrations of southern hospitality. Before I go on, I am sure that there are areas in the North, East and West, where hospitality is alive and well, because I have experienced it elsewhere. Down here...it continues to be a way of life.

• Two times in one day, I had a young (20 something) man stand at a door, as I crossed the parking lot, to hold it open for me.  That indicates that, before entering the store, each young man looked behind him to make sure that there wasn't a woman approaching. (Note: Most men/boys will open the door for a woman, if you enter with them, but having these two men actually wait for me was extra special.)

• As I waited to enter the highway in bumper to bumper traffic traveling both ways, I actually had a driver stop to let me in, holding up all the cars behind him.

• I ran to the entrance of Aldi in the pouring rain, only to realize that I had left my quarter for the cart in my car. I was hoping I could find one in my purse. As I dug through it, a lady offered to run to her car...IN THE POURING RAIN...to get me a quarter. I smiled and explained that I had one in the car. I just didn't want to get wet again. Another lady who had just gotten her cart handed me a quarter with a big smile and said, "I don't blame you." REALLY?? How awesome is that? I passed my cart ("buggy" in southern) on to another customer, explaining that the quarter was not mine to keep. He said he would pass it on as well, when he was done with it. It makes me wonder how long the buggy was passed on throughout the day.

• I approached an awesome parking space at the same time as another shopper. She waved me in.  

• I was walking toward my car in a parking lot, digging through my purse looking for my keys, when a woman who had been walking in front of me, heard me exclaim, "Oh...Great!" She turned around, looked at the visible signs of my desperation and asked if I locked my keys in the car. I said I wasn't sure and kept looking. She waited with me, offering suggestions of locksmiths nearby who could help,  until I finally realized that I had put them in my pocket...silly me.  

General Observations During My Five Plus Years Here

• I am Miss Liisa to most children I know, including teenagers, never just Liisa.
• Instead of hearing "what?" when a person doesn't hear or understand, I often hear, "Ma'am?" So much nicer. 
• Complete strangers will stop you in the store and ask you for advice on a potential purchase or to compliment you in some way.
• If you are driving or walking through your neighborhood, you wave and smile at everyone that you pass, whether you know them or not.
• You get hugged a lot, which isn't so bad. 
• If someone says, "Bless it"...that's not good. For example, if you are having a bad hair day and your friend looks at you and says, "Bless it", it means it's worse than you thought.  It's a lot easier to hear though, than "Oh My! What in the WORLD happened to your hair?"

Gracie's New Obsession

For those of you who read my last post, I would like to announce that I had a hand raising, not at all hair raising, experience on Sunday.  It was quite uneventful, except that it felt good and I don't know what took me so long to give in. I have attached the song that caused the hand raising. It's one of my favorites! How do you not raise your hand during that fantastic chorus?

Gracie's New Obsession

For the past few months, out of the blue, Gracie will ask me a question about what exactly resulted from the fall of man in the Garden Eden. Here are a few for your enjoyment.

• Flies and mosquitoes - "They are so annoying that I am sure they weren't in The Garden of Eden."
• After having a very gassy episode, "Do you think (sorry) farting came from Adam and Eve sinning?"
• "Did Adam and Eve go to the bathroom? I wonder if we will go to the bathroom in Heaven?"
• "Do I have allergies, because Adam and Eve sinned?"
• "Are we supposed to eat meat? I don't think Adam and Eve ate meat. Will we eat meat in Heaven?"
• "I don't understand why we all have to suffer. Why didn't God just punish Adam and Eve? Their children didn't have anything to do with it. It just doesn't seem fair."

I wish I could remember some more. I'm bad about not writing stuff down. 

Raising Hands in Church

I grew up in a very traditional, Baptist church. We sang from church hymnals, which included something called the doxology. Never during the worship time, which I learned as a Southern Baptist is the time spent singing, did I ever feel the need to raise my hands in the air. In fact, I thought those that raised their hands during church services were just trying to show off their spiritual superiority. I have never raised my hands during worship time or any other moment during a church service...and that's about to change.

Our church is dynamic, alive and full of hand raisers. If you don't feel the need to raise your hands, no one really cares, because our hand raisers are oblivious to anything going on around them.  They are worshiping their God, in their personal space, how they want to. They don't care who's looking. There's no pressure to join, because not everyone feels the need. We all worship in different ways. God knows our heart and that's all that matters.

Well...I've been feeling it lately, but my past beliefs and prejudices are weighing my arms down. This past week, our band (a really rockin' group of extremely talented musicians) was playing the song, "We Raise Our White Flags" by Chris Tomlin. I've attached the video with lyrics. It's a powerful song and many of our youth, who sit at the front of the church, raised their arms to show God they surrendered to Him. Our pastor stood to the side with both arms raised and his tilted back looking toward heaven. Why couldn't I get my arm to raise...it so wanted to. I was fearful, because it has never been like me to react that way. What would people think? How silly...what do I care what people think. Next time I'm feeling it...I'm raising my hands in the air and I don't care who's watching.

With that being said, I was having this discussion with the women of our Life Group (what we do instead of Sunday School) and one of them offered up the video that you see at the top of the post. It's hilarious. But now...these women are going to see me raise my hand and they will be trying to identify which one I'm performing at any given time. Watch the video...you'll understand. They are also all anticipating the moment it may happen, which makes it all unnatural and intimidating. Hey...it just occurred to me that I can sit in the back row and no one will be watching. YES!! Look out Sunday...here I come.

It's the Teacher's Fault!

I had the opportunity to join hundreds of parents at my daughter's middle school last night for the ever enlightening parent/teacher conferences. These meetings were voluntary and not scheduled, which means, if I wanted to talk to one of Gracie's teachers, I had to wait in line.  I arrived late, hoping that everyone else had visited the school earlier in the day.I had success in two of the three classes I visited. I was able to walk right in. My plan had worked. Gracie earned great grades in these subjects and I just wanted to thank the teachers for their hard work. The said very nice things about Gracie and I moved on. The last class that I needed to visit was her math class.

Gracie struggles with math, so I'm never too surprised when her grade reflects that. Aaron and I have been trying to help her with homework, but we haven't been as diligent as we need to be and I went into the conference with a feeling of having failed her. I was looking for guidance on how I can help her improve. 

When I got to her math class, I noticed several mothers sitting outside the room. Two ladies were sitting in the only available chairs, so I leaned up against the wall and began my wait. With nothing to do, but pay attention to the people around me, I noticed that most of the parents seemed to be really unhappy. There were few smiles and a lot of very loud sighs. I guessed that it was the lack of structure, caused by an open schedule and having to wait that was weighing on them. Suddenly a conversation between the two seated mothers began and I quickly realized that I had been beating myself up in vain!

It's all the teacher's fault!! What a relief! The weight of being a mediocre math tutor was lifted off my shoulders. As I listened to these two mothers loudly proclaim that they had had enough and couldn't wait to berate the teacher for her lack of skills, I began to take notes. It never occurred to me that Gracie was being victimized in the classroom.  Wow...what I learned next was shocking. This teacher apparently doesn't explain or teach ANYTHING to the students. She only offers to add half the total points scored on re-do papers and tests, not full points. I mean, really....if Gracie is able to redo a test and score a 100, after scoring a 50, shouldn't she receive 100 points. It's only fair.  Oh and yes, do you know that she makes them write an essay, explaining how they got their answers? I couldn't believe it. One mother said that she had worked through a problem with her child, only to find out that the teacher marked it wrong, because the child couldn't explain how he got the answer.  What's up with that?? I mean...she checked the answer with her calculator and it was right. She had every right to be angry.

(End of sarcasm) It became the first mother's turn to enter the classroom and I joined the second on the chairs. The woman sat there beside me, sighing heavily and said, "This is going to be fun" in a very sarcastic tone. I just kept quiet... wondering if I should just get up and leave. It was getting late and Aaron and Gracie hadn't eaten supper yet. I could just call her or email her with my concerns. Just then, another woman approached and asked about the line. At this time there were about five of us waiting. She made a snide remark about her child not even knowing the multiplication table. I couldn't sit quietly anymore. I spoke up. I said, "Yeah...my daughter struggles with that as well, but that's my fault. I should push her to practice."  What happened next was really weird. It was like I hadn't said anything at all. They kept on with their teacher bashing conversation, like I didn't even exist. I suddenly knew that I had to wait for my turn and offer some encouragement to the poor, young math teacher, who had endured hours of such behavior.

When it came my turn, I greeted her with a big smile and gave her a strong hand shake. I told her that it was going to be okay and how I empathized with her situation. She smiled back and confirmed with a look and a few careful words, that she had been beaten up pretty badly throughout the day. I asked her how I could help Gracie and she was thorough in showing me her progress to date, missing assignments and optional re-dos. She let me know that Gracie could bring her grade up if she completed the assignments and re-dos. She told me that Gracie over-thinks problems and second guesses herself. When I told her that I was concerned about Gracie's ability to concentrate, she quickly agreed to move her to the front of the class and pay more attention to her tendency to doodle and draw pictures, than take notes. She offered tutoring a couple of mornings per week. I left knowing the direction we needed to take and how to keep tabs on assignments. It was productive and Gracie's grade will improve with the joint effort of parent and teacher.

Lesson Learned:

Our children are going to face a lot of teachers in their lives from kindergarten to college and each one will have a different personality and style. After talking with Gracie's math teacher, I believe that she expects more from her students, than they ever experienced in elementary school. She holds them to a higher standard. She asks them to take responsibility for their performance. She expects them to raise their hands and tell her, when they don't understand the problem she just worked through on the board. She's preparing them for a time when parent/teacher conferences don't exist and mom or dad won't be helping them with their homework. She's helping to grow them into responsible adults. Isn't that what we as parents are supposed to do? I'm not saying there isn't a time, when parents have to stand up against an ineffective teacher. That happens, but I would ask parents to hold their children responsible for their learning first, helping them to navigate through experiences with a variety of personalities and styles. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong this time, but I don't think so. What do you think?

Getting Older

As I quickly approach my fiftieth birthday....wow....I just got really dizzy. Just writing that number throws me into a panic and a feeling of complete dread. How in the heck have I gotten so old, so quickly? I'd like to be able to say that I don't feel a day over thirty, but unfortunately, there's days when I feel ninety. What is happening to my body???? 

1.  At some point within the past five years, my body has decided that it doesn't need any calories to survive. Every calorie that goes into my mouth travels down my body and rests in my mid-section. I have this tire of fat that just sits right above my belly button. It's like my metabolism didn't just slow down....the calorie burning furnace has died.

2.  I experience sudden, explosive moments of intense heat radiating from deep inside my chest to every inch of my body, causing me to turn the air conditioner "cool" temp to 65 and gulp ice water. This happens at least ten times a day, during which, if I was a "cussing" girl, streams of profanity would be flowing from my mouth. Instead, I just growl.  I HATE hot flashes. 

3.  The muscles in my back have decided that they don't want to relax. After all, they have to hold me and my many rolls of fat upright for most of the day. Therefore, they have decided that they are going to get mad and cause me intense pain...unless of course my doctor will give me a lifetime prescription to those wonderful muscle relaxants.

4.  My feet have joined my back in letting me know that they don't appreciate the extra poundage or the fact that I spent thirty years working on my feet for ten to twelve hours a day. After multiple, painful cortisone shots and anti-inflammatory medication, I still want to crawl, rather than walk after sitting or lying down for more than thirty minutes. 

So...in conclusion...I am asking my body to begin cooperating so that I can burn enough calories to eat more than 500 calories a day. I mean...come on...a girl has to eat!!! I like food.