Week Five - Karen K

A woman a few years older than myself, grew up dyslexic.  In those days of schooling, dyslexia was not something that was frequently talked about, much less diagnosed.  This woman went through her entire school career without help.  Reading was difficult; next to impossible.  Life was hard.  After diagnosis, she made a decision that she was going to learn to read - to learn, go to college, and then teach others who suffered like she did.  And she did just that.

A tall woman; blonde with big blue eyes, and her name is Karen.  The wife of one husband, and mother of three girls.  She was committed to her faith, and it was evident in how she lived it out.  She appeared to be very academic and professional.  She was passionate, and giving, and loving, and committed.  She loved her students without abandon, and was an advocate that most would die for. 

I had the great privilege of working side by side with Karen in the "resource" room.  We worked with low IQ kids, kids with mild behavioral disabilities, but mostly kids with learning disabilities.  This woman was amazing.  Each child that was brought into her program became like her own.  She loved them, nurtured them, taught them, and encouraged them.  They knew her room was a safe place where they could thrive, and because they could thrive they could learn, and because they could learn they could experience success, and because they could experiences success they had a desire to learn more!

Her idea was in elementary school (especially) learning should be fun, not stressful.  Goals should be set that can be achieved, and build upon the next goal.  However she could get the info or exposures into the child's brain she was game.  She used short term rewards to build a habit, that were things that the kids loved.

A young boy had an attention span of about a minute and a half.  He came from an "underprivileged home" where mom was trying to keep things together, working outside the home and caring for he and his sister.  He was diagnosed with ADD and put on meds.  Because of mom's schedule sometimes the boy didn't take his meds.  He was literally impossible to work with.  Karen decided to find a way to motivate him and make him responsible for his own meds.  So, she found something that realllly interested him - a model car - purchased it, and then every day that the boy took his meds he earned a piece to the model car.  There were enough pieces that it equaled enough time to establish a habit.  Enough time that he learned that he "felt" better in the learning environment, and that "feeling" was enough motivation in and of itself.  It wasn't long and his attention span was up to 20 minutes, and he was learning, and thriving, and anxious to come to class.

A little first grade girl, with a lower than the average IQ, came from family if intelligent people.  Her sister, a few years older than she, was brilliant.  Her mother was well known in the school district, and wasn't too thrilled about her daughter's disability.  This little girl's brain could not wrap itself around learning.  Sight words, and simple number facts were almost impossible.  Mom relented, with a plan, to let her be a part of the "resource" room.  Karen was committed to unlocking this littler girls brain, and was willing to do whatever it took.  She didn't believe in traditional learning; putting a piece of paper with a bunch of stuff on it in front of a child and saying go to work.  She didn't believe in worksheets, nor memorization - those frustrate even the smartest of children.  Until 4th grade she believed that it was all about repetition.  A child with a learning disability requires many more exposures to retain - thats it.  Sometimes they also require more than one sense to be used to retain, as in  this little girl.  Karen would take her to the table, grab a tray and a spoon and a jug of pudding.  She would seat her down,  spread the pudding on the tray, pull up a sight word and begin her magic.  She would have the little girl look at the word, say the word, hear herself saying it, write it in the pudding with her finger, and then eat the pudding that remained on her finger.  She incorporated every single sense there was, and made the learning fun.  The awesome news?  That little girl grew up to be in the top 10 of her class upon graduation.

Addition, subtraction, multiplication and division were done with wooden cubes with numbers and signs written on them and rolled.  Rather than a timed test, the child would roll the cubes like dice, and see how many facts they could get in a minute.  Facts were written on laminated index cards, 2 cards per fact, with answers on them.  There were matching stickers in the corner so the child knew they went together.  They played old maid, or memory - always having the answer available - no frustration.  Manilla folders were laminated with stickers on them, to use as a game board.  Math facts were written (with answers) on the board.  The child would choose the rules of the game, and as they would travel on the board from sticker to sticker they would read the fact that corresponded.

Spelling and sight words were done in the same way.  Memory and old maid, board games, whatever medium she could use to get rid of the frustration and make learning something desirable.   Word problems were cut into strips and done one at a time - no frustration.  Often the classroom would send up work the child needed to complete and she would strain her brain to find a way to unlock the learning capability of the individual child.

Whatever it took to make sure any child entrusted to her care would never experience what she did, she was game.  Every child entrusted to her would feel safe and successful in her room, and feel like they could conquer the moon if they set out to.  She empowered them, encouraged them, challenged them, and loved them - AND they knew it.  She was passionate and was willing to go to any extreme to advocate for a child.  When I think of no child left behind - I think of her.  I think of how she individually served those kids, and the tiring responsibility of meeting the demands of the parents, the school board, the state, and the classroom teacher.

She was amazing, and my life is different because of her.  Some things I learned from her:

1)   Make every child feel safe in your presence - no matter what

2)   A naughty kid isn't necessarily a naughty kid

3)    Be that voice for a child - their well being made depend on you

4)    Think outside of the box - get to the point and stick to it

5)     Make learning fun - always

Karen has set an example for me of what "teaching" really is.  Its not about clumping all kids into a heap expecting them to internalize, process, and grow in the same way.  She taught me how, as a parent, to not take encouragement and suggestion from a professional as criticism or something negative, it is meant to give your child a chance to experience success.  She taught me lifelong tools in helping little kiddos I come in contact with to experience success where they may be struggling, or how a word of encouragement to a parent that may have a non-traditional child can boost their day.  What a gift these things are; my life, and my kids lives are better because of them.

It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge. 

Albert Einstein 

A simple loaf of bread

What is it about the smell of home made bread in the air?  There is just something about it that brings comfort and a sense of homey-ness to your spirit.

Many years ago on the farm I made bread a couple times a week.  There would always be a couple loaves and then something yummie - cinnamon rolls, or pecan rolls, or dough rolled and dipped in cinnamon and sugar and baked.  The boys loved it coming home from school on bread day to whatever treat that might be waiting for them!  

Baking bread is a process, and one that you can't start and put away til later.  Once you start it you have to finish it - and it takes HOURS.  I've solved a lot of the worlds problems while kneeding bread, and I really think that if I could take over office I could do a bang up job, as long as I'm armed with a mixer, some yeast, and a rolling pin!

Last week while in Iowa, my son made a loaf of hawaiian bread.  I was watching him work his magic on that lump of dough, and could see the sheer delight in his eyes that reminded me of me, so many years ago.  I decided when I got home, I was going to attempt baking bread again.  This time for different reasons, not out of necessity - but out of love for the loaf.  

Today is that day.  The first day since we have returned home that I don't have to leave the house.  I decided to make a sweet bread - its my fav.  I had forgotten all the steps that are involved, and the ungodly mess it makes!  Scald the milk - what does that mean?  I used to do it all the time and now I can't remember what it means!  Dissolve the yeast in the warm water - how warm is warm?  I used to know exactly what the best temp was to do this and have it never fail, now I have no clue!  I used my handheld mixer - I thought that is how I used to do it.  Upon adding the first couple cups of flour all was well.  But then . . . . the dough got stickier and the mixer made wierd noises, and the dough decided to climb the beaters and rest under the attachment part.  What a mess.  Something is terribly wrong!!  I added the remaining flour and began kneeding the dough.  

Standing in this southwestern home built in the early 2000's, I am having flashbacks of years gone by while doing this same task in a farm house built in the late 1800's.  It is an unusual feeling, and memories began flooding my being.  Memories of the boys as little guys wanting to help, and Jim coming in from a hard days work as the bread is being pulled from the oven - experiencing that oh its good to be home feeling. Memories of me standing there hour by hour loving every minute of this task.  

It is almost time for me to punch the center of that big ball of dough down, and form into rolls or bread. I haven't yet decided what its gonna be yet.  Because we won't eat as much as we did back in the day, I've read up on how to freeze dough - so this venture ought to prove to be enlightening, besides satiating our appetites.  

Its a chilly cloudy day in Arizona today, a perfect day for homemade bread, as if there needs to be a perfect day!  But, today is perfect in that I finally took the time to do it! I solved the debt crisis, and the fiscal cliff.  I fixed the unemployment rate and guaranteed no recession, let alone depression.  I fed all the children in starving countries, and ended abortion.  I settled the gun issues, and ended murder all together.  I cured cancer, and fought childhood obesity.  I'm dead beat tired, and ready for some fermented grapes, but mostly  I'm hoping it tastes as good as I remember, and I have the fortitude to repeat it again in the near future!

Week Four - Kent B

He was a red-headed bearded man, that wore a smile as big as the sky.  An accountant with a vibrant personality, with a zest for life and a love for his family.  The husband of one wife, one son and three daughters.  He sang in a vocal quartet, and loved to perform.  This is a great description of a man that left an everlasting impression on my heart, except for one fact.  The very thing that stood out from all of this - the thing that taught me what faith looks like.

Kent B was a godly man.  Fact.  How do I know?  His life reflected it.  He joyfully served, he was a man of prayer and worship, he loved his Savior and was not ashamed to shout it from the rooftops!  He was kind and gentle and caring and loving.  He was slow to anger, and never self seeking.  HE was a godly man.

We got to know Kent and his family when we left the methodist church to join up with a different church in town.  We felt compelled to go to this church but were finding it difficult to figure out where we fit in.  We weren't and have never been your "conventional christian", and in some more legalistic crowds we didn't fit so well.  There was an element of this at this new church and we were struggling with whether or not we had made the right decision.  

One evening late, we ran into Walmart to pick up some last minute things before we headed back out to the farm.  On our way out we ran into Kent.  He spent the next hour standing in the cold entryway of Walmart talking to us.  As a leader of the church, he was very interested in what we were experiencing and was committed to do what he could to help us find our place.  And . . . he followed thru.

Over the course of the next year or so we became quite close to Kent and his family.  We truly wanted what they had.  Their children ranged in ages similar to ours, and it was awesome to have an example of parenting and marriage right before our eyes.  We watched Kent and his wife train their children, in life lessons, in education, in their knowledge of God and how to live that out.  One of the things that ministered most to us was something we didn't see often.  These people loved being together - no pretense.  They all got along, and while there may have been times they weren't best friends, they truly enjoyed each other and found great satisfaction in their time together.  It meant so much to us.  We wanted that.  We wanted our boys to love each other, and while they had friends and their own lives, we wanted them to know that their brothers had their back and at the end of the day there was no one's company quite like that of their brother.  That is what we saw in this family and it was awesome.

One summer the men went on a weekend retreat.  Kent joined some of the golfing guys to play a few holes.  He didn't play long as he began to have some chest pain.  He went into the doc and they checked him out and sent him home.  They gave some explanation and over the course of the next year or so he would experience this, but would dismiss it.

Then he got the flu.  He was feeling so fatigued and couldn't keep anything down.  It went on for some time, and his doctors kept treating him for flu symptoms.  Finally his wife put her foot down and told him to see a different doc, who happened to be a good friend.  Kent went in and immediately the doc was concerned.  With an initial exam he sent him for some cat scans of his abdomen.  The cat scan came back looking as if he had a very large tumor in his stomach, so he was sent immediately to the University Hospital where they took immediate action.  Upon further testing Kent was diagnosed with testicular cancer.  He had a small tumor that had died off and shot off another into his abdomen.  It was the size of a football, wrapped around his aorta (explains the chest pain), and had put enough pressure on his one kidney it had died off.  The tumor was far too large and being wrapped around the aorta, they decided they needed to shrink it first before removing it.  And so . . . . chemo began.

Now remember this was back in the late 80's early 90's, chemo was still very closely monitored by in hospital care.  He was in a private room for six weeks as they treated him.  He was so violently ill.  The chemo racked his body, causing severe weight loss, loss of hair, and extreme fatigue.  His wife stayed by his side, and his kids took over responsibilities around the house.  Because of the teaching of their parents, these kids were able to do so at such a young age.  It was absolutely remarkable to see.  We would go see him in the hospital and he, even in such desperate sickness, wore that great big smile, and the joy of the Lord even in the midst of this tragedy was evident in his pain filled eyes.  We prayed with him and his wife, and asked him how he was finding the strength to move forward.  He said that his wife read him the scriptures, they prayed together, and he found great comfort listening to old hymns.  He said the one he found most comfort from was the hymn, "Because He Lives".

We would leave his hospital room humbled, almost ashamed.  We served the same God, received the same forgiveness, the same love, the same Savior.  And yet, we struggled to serve and pray and read just because we were busy.  How he ministered to us, how he ministered to the hospital staff and his doctors, and his children!

Kent had his surgery.  Unbelievable would be the best word to describe what the doctors found.  The tumor had shrunk in size enough that they were able to remove it without damaging the aorta, or any of the other organs that sat so closely to it.  The entire tumor was encased and had not left any cells on any other part of his body.  They were able to get it all!!!  They had to remove the one kidney due to it being deadened from the tumor.  The cancer was gone.  Completely.  Now its time to heal.

Kent was released from the hospital; a very frail man, but cancer free.  He was looking at a long road of recovery and of course radiation to follow.  Meals were brought in, church family came together to serve them in any way they possibly could, and Kent was on the mend.

Sometime around 4-6 weeks after surgery Kent came to church!  He didn't look the same at all, and one would question who he was, until he smiled!  Then there was absolutely no question!  This first Sunday back Kent, his wife, and his four kids went up by the altar.  He spoke for a minute - a very heartfelt word of thanks and recognition of his Savior who carried him and his family thru this entire pain staking ordeal.    As he finished what he had to stay, the family and he stayed at the front and the piano began playing.  I knew what was coming, and I  had no kleenex.  The entire family began singing "Because He Lives".  Kent's booming voice rang in every single persons ears, as it was sang with every ounce of his being, because he knew it was true and his family knew it too.  His eyes were filled with tears, as were his wife's, as they sang.  What a testimony!

Kent remained cancer free, by the grace of God!  I have never been able to hear that song played, sung, or even referred to without getting choked up.  It/he is a constant reminder to me of God's faithfulness, and how the truth of the gospel will carry you thru even the worst of times - even when death seems better - and maybe when death seems eminent.

2005, I received a call from Kent's daughter telling me that he had passed.  He was walking away from his car and his heart gave out.  He dropped to the cement in the parking lot and died on the spot.  We weren't able to attend his funeral, but I heard all about it.  He was a man of great respect from all who knew him.  Christians, non christians, business people, music people, children, elderly, everyone.  His celebration of life was so full there wasn't room to hold all the people.  It was a joy filled service - a true celebration of life - yet a huge gap of emptiness in the lives of so many.  Kent touched many lives and many gave testimony to that on that day.  He is greatly missed.  His witness is carried on in so many, and his children continue to honor him in the way they live their lives - holding true to the many lessons he taught them.

Kent taught me what real - deep down - faith looks like.  He taught me what resting in the shadow of the almighty looks like.  He gave me an example of the fruit of the spirit - in living color.  He showed me what 1st Corinthians 13 looks like.  He was a sinner just like me and he too fell short of the glory of God, but he knew where his strength came from, who offered it freely, and who he served - and all who knew him, knew it.  Thank you Kent, I can't wait to see that big ole smile one day when we meet again dancing on golden streets, praising our Savior in person!!!

Kent B 1950-2005

Because He lives I can face tomorrow.  Because He lives, all fear is gone.  Because I know who holds the future, my life is worth the living just because He lives!!!!

Week Three - Maria, Mary Poppins/Julie Andrews

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down . . . in the most delightful way!  When the dog bites, when the bees sting, when I'm feeling sad . . . I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad!!!!!

Oh how I love Julie Andrews!!!!  As a little girl, going to the movie theater was a big big deal.  We got all dressed up fancy to go and the anticipation was unexplainable.  The year was 1964 when Mary Poppins was filmed and all we owned was a black and white TV - going to the movies to that giant screen in color was simply magnificent.  I remember that first time watching Mary Poppins and I fell in love with her.  I wanted her as my nanny!!  I wanted to ride that magic piece of carpet with her, and I wanted to dance on the roof tops!  She looked like my Aunt Sally and could sing like an angel.  She made me smile and as a little girl expanded my imagination and sweet dreams!  

I was in love with Mary Poppins.  I had my very own record player that played 45's and 33's.  For Christmas I received the Mary Poppins album.  I played it and played it and played it.  I wanted to be Julie Andrews.  I wanted to look like her, and sing like her, and dance like her.  I couldn't get enough!! I knew the songs by heart, word for word.  My neighbor and I would get together after school and play barbie dolls.  Usually we would play at her house, and while playing barbie dolls we would put albums on the record player.  Every day I would bring my Mary Poppins record with me and she would tell me the same thing - Lets listen to my beatles album first and then we will play your record.  Well, every single time I would be called home for supper before we got my record played.  I still hold resentment over that - and to this day am not a fan of the beatles!!

Then came the Sound of Music.  It was only a few years later, but I was old enough now to be able to go to the theater with others.  And I did, as often as I could.  I saw, as a little girl, the Sound of Music seven times.  I had the record.  I played it constantly.  Julie was my hero.  I wanted to be a Von Trapp child - Lisel was my fav.  I wanted Mr Von Trapp to be nicer to Julie and Lisel to be more her friend.  I wanted to be the little girl that sang so sweet that Julie swept up in her arms and carried her off to bed.

I got so excited when Julie Andrews would be on Ed Sullivan, or Flip Wilson, or any other show that we may watch.  I couldn't get enough of her and I couldn't seperate her roles from Mary Poppins to the nanny in Sound of Music.  Her part just seemed seamless between the two, and I really believed as a little girl that THAT is who she was.

I learned many lessons from the songs, and some that carried me into adulthood.  The funny thing about songs is we may not hear them for a long long time, but can pick up the tune immediately upon hearing it.   While we don't think we listen closely to the lyrics, they are subconsciously burned in our memories.  So often the words to some of the songs off these two albums would enter my mind, and because I had seen both movies so often, Julie would appear in my mind and I could almost hear her singing the songs to me.    

One of the things that I treasure most is learning from Mary Poppins that laughter is contagious.  "I love to laugh HA HA HA HA Loud and long and clear, I love to laugh So ev'ry one can hear!  The more you laugh  The more you fill with glee, And the more the glee The more I'm a merrier me!"  Have you ever sat in a room and heard someone laughing and not been affected?  Have you ever been near someone laughing and not had a smile come to your lips?  Have you ever tried to be in a really bad mood and sat next to someone laughing uncontrollably - and been able to maintain your bad mood?  Doesn't work!!  Laughter is contagious!!  

As I grew older and into adulthood my love for Mary Poppins and the Sound of Music didn't wane away.  Julie Andrews is still my favorite female actress, but as an adult I can accept the fact that she is not Mary Poppins nor Maria.  However, the parts she played in those films that as a child molded my life and somewhat owned it, have left a mark on me forever.  When I hear people talking about their dreams I can hear the nun singing to Maria to climb every mountain until she finds that dream - as an adult I get that.  

Most importantly, sometimes its good to have someone we admire teach us to take life with just a spoonful of sugar.  Thank you Ms. Andrews for teaching me life lessons thru the gift of music - the sound of music - that make hills come alive and dreams come true!

Together Again!

A wedding, food, laughter, hugs.  The things we love and oftentimes long for.  That is what best describes the last few days of our life.  Its been six long years since we have all been together in the same room until now.  All of us minus our precious James and his mamma, Kristal.  

It is such a myriad of emotion, and in a quiet moment quite difficult to process.  Last year at this time as I traveled back to the tundra, my son's life had crumbled to nothingness.  He was alone with three babies - all trying to make sense of a painful decision made by someone else that affected their lives in ways that they would never ever had imagined - much less chosen.  My son was broken and in pain.  His heart hurt - hurt in ways that rendered all who loved him helpless in loving him thru it.  He was the perfect example of the boy whistling in the dark.  He had no direction, no plan, no partner, no joy.  He didn't have a clue which foot to put forth next, and which direction to turn.  He was alone, and lonely.  He had the full responsibility of three little children - which upon looking back was the very thing that kept him putting one foot in front of the other.  

My heart hurt for him.  I can remember him as a child when he would experience something that hurt his feelings or made him question his worth.  I thought that was such a difficult thing then - but we worked thru it and somehow the next day happened and the troubles waned like water down the drain, growing him up and teaching him lessons of life.  And joy came in the morning.  This was nothing like that.  This was something that equates with death.  Maybe in some ways worse.  Faith is put in question, love is questioned, and the guarding of ones heart reigns paramount - so much so others may not be let in.  Death may be easier.  While it is permanent and hard and painful and grants grief beyond belief - death is not rejection.  Death can somehow be explained and something that we all know at some time (hopefully later than sooner) will happen to all of us and it will suck and it will cause many shed tears, but it is a fact.  Rejection is different.  It scars.  Deep.  With pain that radiates and consumes the entire being.  This is observation - and it in and of itself has been one of the most difficult things for me personally that I've experienced.  I can not even imagine being the one walking it.  Alone.  Because it is not something anyone else can walk hand in hand with.

Then came March.  Life took a turn.  Moxy was found from deep within.  And a girl with a beautiful smile and a kind and gentle heart emerged.  The scars were beginning to heal, and lonliness began to fade.  Each day life was looking better and direction became a bit clearer.  Someone else who had experienced their own hell, while of course different, much the same.  Both having a desire to share life with a whole human being, and as a whole person themselves.  Lots to work thru, lots of things to consider, lots of wounds yet to heal, but now with anticipation of happiness and goodness and love.

January 12th this year is a wedding.  The wedding being a celebration with immediate family which brought our little family unit together in one place.  We flew in on the afternoon of the 9th.  We spent a few hours with the littles having ice cream and roller skating (well they roller skated).  Later that nite, in came the Washington State family.  Mr Max saw us at the airport and grabbed hold of me and held me as if his life depended on it!  I can't begin to describe that feeling.  Friday Jimmy came in from New Hampshire.  While Kris and Jamesy weren't with him physically, we got frequent pictures and texts from them, and kept them in thought and spirit throughout the celebration.  Friday night - all three boys lined up on the couch giving each other grief.  Nothing had changed.  The roles were exactly the same, the conversation while more mature (in some ways) was the same, and how they intereacted with one another had not changed in the least.  Bubba was still trying to "trade" things with Jimmy making it sound as if Jimmy was getting a deal.  Luke was still trying to boss them around giving them direction and they responded as if they were deaf.  It was a blast.  For a moment I wished that our country was one that was only big enough for each family to live on one street - no one could move - no one could wander in another direction - a street where we could watch each other love life, hurt from bad decisions made by oneself or at the hand of another, share meals together, laugh together, and love on each other and the next generation.  But that is not realistic, nor would it be best for each one of them. But the thought of it makes my heart full.

What a wedding!  A bride and a groom and five little children committing their lives to one another.  I sat there during the ceremony watching this mature grounded woman pledge her life to my son - and his children.  I could not help but flash back to what life looked like at this time last year, and how full circle it had come.  I was reminded of many scriptures of how God really does want our best, and while many times as we are walking thru the fire we are completely unable to see it - and right in front of me this day stands a man, my son, who is stronger - more confident - filled with more self worth - than I have ever seen him in his life.  I see a woman who loves him to death.  She even finds his quirkiness funny and loves that about him.  They are a team, and partners, and cheerleaders, and coaches, and lovers.  They together have five littles, and have found ways to build those five weaving into one another in ways as if they had always been.  They are anxious about living this new life together as husband and wife, and are ready together to face the challenges that life just happens to bring along with it.  They both are an example of hope.

A few days of bliss with everyone together and the fun must come to an end.  Life in Washington and in New Hampshire must carry on.  Our life in Arizona must move forward as well.  The goodbyes are hard and there is a tendency to focus on that, rather than the great time we all had together, the new memories made, and the reminiscing of the old memories that we all cherish together.

The house is quiet now.  The bride is back at work, the family is all gone, the groom is sound asleep in his bed after a full night shift at work.  As I sit here and type this out my mind vascilates between the old and the new memories.  The could have beens, and the what is.  The differences and the similarities.  The wonderful amazing women my sons have been blessed to share their lives with, and to parent their children with.  My head is spinning, and my heart is full, and my eyes are leaking tears of joy and of emptiness at the same time.  I know that my bible says that God captures those tears in a bottle, as he cares for me that much.  It is overwhelming to me how joy and pain can exist in the same place and how one can experience both at the exact same time.  

So we move forward.  Another chapter is being written in the Snowden family life.  Praise God THIS is a good chapter.  One we are excited to see written and one day read as we reflect back on this week in the days and years to come, thanking God for His mercies and His goodness, and His grace in our lives.

Week Two - Virginia B

She can NOT stand me!  I don't know why.  I don't even know what I ever did to her.  She wants me outta there, and makes no bones about it.  She . . . . Is Virginia.  Attila the Hun.  Delwood's finest School Secretary.

She is in her 70's, and clearly runs the school.  She is very small in stature, hunched over, with her "shift" dresses from the 60's and 70's, and orthopedic shoes.  Her hair is more than likely in the same style she wore it in the 50's and possibly the same eye glasses.  She has false teeth that she tends to click and clack and move a bit in her mouth - making some irritating noises if you stand too close.

Her office was outside of the Superintendent/Principals office.  Everyone had to go thru her to get to him.  She was the nurse, the screener of calls, the secretary, and the just and justifier of who does and doesn't get requested supplies that she has so neatly packed away in the forbidden closet.  It was rumored the school was erected around her - as she has worked there at least 40 years, only being out sick for open heart surgery.  This place was her life.  Literally.  She didn't drive, rather lived down the street and walked to and from each day.  On bad weather days, Larry the maintenance man insisted she let him drive her home.  Sometimes she would.  Sometimes she wouldn't.

She had favorites; both teachers and students alike.  If you were a favorite you could get by with murder.  If you were not - WATCH OUT!!! I happened to fall into that second catergory.  In 1988, one of my boys had an "incident" with his teacher.  She made the decision to not allow him to attend a class party (4th grade) because he didn't finish his work.  Mama bear didn't approve, so I let him stay home and we played all day.  The teacher found out and told the class she was going to make an example of him.  I got word of it and marched myself and my son to the principal the next day - then went and sat in the classroom with him until lunch. The principal took action.  This teacher happened to be a good friend of Virginia, and there ya go.  The following year, next son would be in that teachers room and I opted to take him to a different school.  Strike 2.  Later that year . . . . . Strike 3.  I'm out.

Later that year . . . I was hired at this same school.  My job was half days working with the learning disabled kiddos, and the other half administration (computer type) for the superintendent.  This was a brand new position which was necessary to create as Virginia had no computer skills and was refusing to learn any.  The superintendent was a forward thinking, technology driven guy.  Needless to say they didn't see eye to eye.  She then became convinced I was after her job.  She was convinced he hired me to phase her out, and she was not exactly excited about that.  No, she was ticked.  Mean.  Nasty.  Evil.  To me.

Being a young woman I was totally fearful of Virginia.  She scared the daylights out of me.  I was afraid of anything I did, or anything I said.  And she wasn't afraid to let me know when I crossed the line.  I worked at this school for about 5-6 months before I made a decision to do something different.  I decided she only had the power over me that I let her have.  I had to find a way to be respectful of her, but change up how she was to me. What. To. Do. . . . . 

I learned as a young girl that it is as difficult to frown as it is to smile.  It takes as much work both phyiscially, mentally and emotionally.  So, I that day - made a decision that regardless of how she was towards me - I wasn't gonna frown anymore and I wasn't going to let her know if she got the best of me.  I made a decision that somehow each day, no matter what, I was going to make HER smile - whether she liked it or not.

I began my new challenge.  I found anything I could think of - stupid, silly, whatever I could think of to put her in a position that she couldn't help but smile.  Even if while smiling she was mad at me, and the madness growing because she wanted to so bad be mad!!  Often times she would walk away shaking her head, almost leaning it to one side, so I couldn't see the smile emerging on her lips.   

The second year I was at the school, Virginia got very ill.  She tried coming in to work but was so sick that she couldn't do it.  I think it made her as mad as she was sick, that she couldn't stay on the job - she had to take sick days.  She had pleuracy, along with pneumonia, and was in so much pain and so sick she didn't have a choice.  Being the schedule I had, and the work I had been doing, I took over in her absence.  I had to sit in her office, answering her phone, touching her typewriter, and of all things . . . monitor . . . . the suppppppplllllyyyyyyyy closet.  Ugh too much for any person to be responsible for!  After being out a week she returned.  Within an hour of walking in the door she hunted me down.  Can you believe I forgot to unplug her typewriter?  I know.  Irresponsible!  She gave me the what for and the how come, and I made some remark to her that gave that head tilt and storm out of the room before anyone saw her smiling.  She had to leave early that day; she was still too sick to be there.  She was too weak to walk home and freely accepted the ride when offered to her.

Virginia was out another whole week.  I had my mind made up - there would be NOTHING she would find out of place or ANYTHING to complain about.  I went thru the entire office, made sure that the suppppppplllllllyyyyyyy closet didn't expose my generosity with the teaching staff upon her absence, typewriter was unplugged and covered as ordered, everything EVERYTHING was in check.

Monday morning comes, I'm in the lounge preparing the newsletter, when Virginia comes marching in. "WHERE is Mr R's staple remover.  You need to find it and get it back to him immediately," she says as she marches back out of the room.  

I couldn't believe it.  What to do with this?  I took a moment to think and then as she stomped out I said, "Well Virginia . . . I don't know if I was low in aluminum in my diet, or if I needed floss - and with a staple remover (using hand gestures) you can do 4 teeth at once."  SHE WAS IN SHOCK!!!!  She stood there for a minute, shook her head, and then as the smile started to appear on her face - quickly walked out of the room.

This was our relationship.  Many days I went home defeated and heavy hearted.  What in the world did I do to this woman for her to dislike me so much?  After much talk with the superintendent and my good friend Billye that worked with us, we concluded that she felt threatened.  She was concerned that I was going to take over her position and she would be without her lifebreath - the school.  She was worried she would be forced into retirement, and then what?  How difficult for her; to choose to be unwilling to do the things that were required, but then be challenged/threatened by someone put in position to do the very things you refused to do.  I couldn't make sense of it, and tried to be sensitive to her, but I failed often.

Over the course of the years, there were days she was just mean, and days that she was pleasant.  I didn't really pay much attention because all I was focused on was making her smile at least once a day. She was given a new office, set up according to her liking, just for her.  It allowed her to not have to do the steps and to be able to see people as they came into the school.  I took her old office and it remained the same.  She seemed ok with it, and found a comfort in her new room.  She was adapting to change bit by bit.

One particular morning as I arrived at school, my heart was heavy.  Lots going on in our world and the weight of it all must have been evident as I got out of my car and began the walk to the building.  When I arrived at the door, Virginia met me there.  She took me in her arms and said you looked like you could use a great big hug this morning.  Unbelievable.

From that moment on our relationship was changed.  I can't tell you what the magic was that did it - it just happened. She didn't seem threatened by me any more.  She didn't seem to want to kill me any more.  Life was different at that school, and we became friends.  We met for lunch a time or two; she asked about the boys and about our life, as if we had been buddies all along.

I wish I knew the magic that took place.  While this seems like someone that one may consider to have been a more negative impact, but on the contrary.  I believe even in the innocence and naivity, and the sheer bullheadedness of my youth, I did the right thing.  I took the time to invest in and do something to make someone else smile - even if it was sarcastic.  And it worked.  I learned from this that people may present a hard shell, but usually the shell is really very thin.  And what lies beneath is a very tender, most times damaged heart.

This experience I had with Virginia could have turned out many different ways. I believe because it turned out the way it did it set me up for a desire to look past others "shells" and find ways to let that same unexplainable magic bring life to a new relationship. I believe today that I have had the good pleasure of many such relationships all because of that hug in the hallway.  That day - SHE ministered to me.  It was a day I'll never forget.

Virginia B  1922-2009

Week One - Big Ed

Alcoholism is a dreadful killer.  Not always does it kill the partaker, but it certainly kills relationships with those they love.  It is the most acceptable killer known to man.  We celebrate with it, we kill emotion with it, we entertain with it, and we relax with it.  We drink it alone, we drink it with our lovers, we drink it with our good friends, and we drink it in groups.  All acceptable.  When those we love drink to excess we make excuses, and inadvertently choose to live a life of manipulation, pain, and ultimately death.

This happened to us.  Jim's alcoholism spiraled out of control.  Excuses were made, games were played, manipulations were reigning our relationship - neither being innocent, nor one being more guilty than the other.  But by the grace of God, Jim decided to get help.  He began attending AA and before long became the AA nazi.  He was making changes which meant the most horrible thing . . . so must I!  I began attending Al Anon.  

I struggled with with the whole thing.  The meetings and the books seemed to become the new addiction, and the sponsor became his new love.  I struggled with the meetings I was going to.  The whining and pity parties were irritating.  It was more than I could handle trying to keep my own self positive as to sit in these meetings listening to these people choose defeat.  I struggled with the once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.  I struggled with the higher power idea - finding it a slap in God's face.  I struggled with looking around the room to find one woman that I had listened to that had what I wanted - and it wasn't there.  I struggled with frustration.  A lot.

Naturally when you read about Jim, and then you read about me, you can easily deduct that trouble was on the horizon.  It wasn't long and we were unable to communicate much less be in the same room together.  We got into a horrendous argument and Jim left - move out left - and I felt relief.

After a day or so went by reality set in.  Seeing the pained look on my boys' faces and recognizing what the future may hold, I decided I needed to do something.  I remembered going to a meeting with Jim for his sponsor's celebration.  It was there they had a speaker that would later change my life. He was a giant, and spoke words that while fitting with the AA philosophy did not detract from his faith.  He was a pastor, and had no problem identifying with Christ as his Higher Power.  Most AA'rs have an issue with this for some reason.  And he boldly spoke about it that night.  Most everyone loved him and couldn't wait to hug him and tell him how much he speaks to them.  There were those that were ticked because of the Jesus talk.  I heard one man say to him "Ah, the church is nothing but a bunch of hypocrites."  He replied, "HA!  You know what - your right!!  You should try it sometime - one more won't hurt!!!"  Oh I loved him already!!  

I needed to talk to him.  I didn't know his name - and I wasn't really sure of how to find it.  I remembered hearing the name of the church he pastored at - so I went looking.  BINGO - found him.  Ed M was his name.  Big Ed - now I remember!  I placed a call and left a message on his voicemail.  I was nervous and scared and to be quite honest not sure I really wanted help.

Our first meeting came.  I walked into the church office, and waited for him.  I remembered him being a large man, but never stood close to him to know.  Here he comes.  He is HUGE.  His hands look like they could wrap around a basketball like mine does a baseball.  He shakes my hand and then wraps those long arms around me in a hug.  My arms hug his waist - my goodness he's tall!  How tall is he I want to know - but how rude to ask!  Its killing me!!! 

We sat down - me on one side of the desk - he on the other.  He began asking questions and I began opening up.  He asked me what my biggest problem with AA was - I told him.  He said Christianity saves your soul.  AA saves your life - they are different.  I told him about the meetings I was going to - he recommended a different meeting in a different town, and that until I found a woman to take me under her wing, he would begin the work of the 12 steps with me.

He shared with me things about his life.  He spoke to me with such gentleness and compassion.  He challenged me thru the week and asked me to make contact with him once a day to let him know how I was doing and then we would meet again the following week.  I obeyed.

The next week came and I couldn't wait to meet with him again.  Each day I called him he greeted me with, "HI Sweetie!" When I heard his voice I actually felt that all was going to be ok with the world that day.  I was anxious to meet with him again.  He greeted me with that giant hug and to the desk we went.  He went over the things we talked about on the daily check in.  He asked me some more in depth questions and concurred that Jim and I should remain no contact for at least one more week and then we would meet with him.  Together.  Our meeting was over and off I went with the same instruction as the week before.  Daily calls and I obeyed.

The following week he got a little more aggressive with me.  He began digging in to my past and asking questions about things I very neatly packed away in the recesses of my mind.  It was uncomfortable and painful, yet freeing.  He asked me a question that I couldn't answer - can you describe to me what you see as your faults.  I could not.  He asked me if I believed that possibly I was faultless?  Of course not!!  We began to unpack another layer.  I sat in that chair and tears ran down my cheeks.  I'm not a crier.  But being in this safe room, with this safe man, I couldn't hold them back.  He would quietly hand me a box of kleenex and move forward.  After intense discussion, and many tears later, he uncovered quite a mystery.  I couldn't identify any fault because I believed and was convinced that my being as a whole was faulty - I couldn't break it down and pinpoint anything.  What progress!!  Now we know where to start.

Weeks went by, with meetings alone, meetings with Jim, and intense counsel.  Daily check ins continued, and with every tear that was shed a little drip of pain went away.  He taught me so many lessons - life lessons that so few get to learn:

1)  If your experiencing conflict, someone needs to be the adult.  If you recognize it guess what . . . its you.

2)  All behavior has meaning, people act the way they do for a reason, and its not generally to tick you off.

3)  Out of the mouth comes the overflow of the heart.

4)  If you are experiencing conflict or are upset with someone, or have an argument - before you lash out identify your part first.  There is no conflict nor argument that is one sided - ever.

5)  Never pass up the opportunity to bless someone - you never know if the opportunity will come again.

6)  Expectation is a premeditated resentment.  ALWAYS

7)  Unforgiveness/bitterness is you drinking the poison waiting for someone else to die.

8)  If there is something in your life or something you can do to make another persons life better, consider it an honor.  Don't pass it up.

My life is forever changed because of Ed.  One of the greatest things he taught me was that life can be lived happy joyous and free even in the midst of a bad day.  It sounds impossible, but its not.  My marriage is forever changed because of Ed.  What seemed to be a relationship doomed for destruction, is now a partnership filled with love, respect, and honor.  My relationships with family and friends are forever changed.  I recognize that I can love and serve them, but I can't fix whats broke in their lives and to do so is me paying the consequences for their choices.  It frees me up to love them where they are, and allow them to do the same with me.

I miss him greatly.  Christmas 2008 Ed went to meet his Savior.  There are so many times when I just don't know what to do in particular situations and I want to hear that "Hi Sweetie" across the phone line.  I want him to tell me it will be ok, and I want him to hand me that kleenex that catches the pained drops running down my cheek - but he's not here.  He's THERE, dancing on golden streets, basking in the glory of our Lord, preparing a place even for me!  Yet, his legacy lives on.  His words still ring true in my heart, and if I take the time to breathe, I can hear him give me direction.

Thank you Big Ed, my life is truly better because you took the time to invest in me.  I will be forever grateful!

Rev Ed M  1950 - 2008