For many of us, the wrapping has been wadded up and thrown out, the food has been feasted on, and the family time has worn a little thin. Some toys have already broken and gift recipients have braved daunting lines to exchange whatever was the wrong size, color, shape, make, model, brand, title, or sound. The battle cries of "Happy Holidays!"---"No, it's Merry Christmas! I'm keeping Christ in Christmas!" have settled back into murmurs of quiet and fairly content napping.
That last part gets me a little.
I don't understand why so many of my fellow Christians get bent about what kind of greeting another person gives them; no one can take Christ from us---it only makes US seem like WE are bound and determined to take away someone else's religious or non-religious observance. That's not what this country is about. Indeed...it's not what the Christian faith is founded on.
We need to remember more than the birth of Christ, which we are celebrating at a random time of year in the first place, since no one knows when He was born. We need to remember the LIFE of the man who is our role model not just at the Christmas season, but at every season.
We must remember that we are commanded to love our neighbor as ourselves---in every season. It's easy to be nice with carols in our heads and sparkling lights everywhere. It's not so easy to love that neighbor in the summertime, when I can sleep in every day, but my neighbor wants to run his compressor to power-wash his boat every living day. But 'tis the season to love him then, too.
We are reminded that how we treat the least among us is evidence of how we might be treating the Savior, for we never know when we may be entertaining angels among us---in every season. We give food to charities in the fall, but how often do we remember that those with less need help at other times? When one brother rises out of need, another is there to take his place. Should we ignore the second because we gave in October? 'Tis the season to serve others, even when it isn't on the agenda for the rest of the world.
We know that we are told that when we are without sin ourselves, we can cast the stone at another, and we keep that on a pretty even keel in December---but it's true in every season. When tempers run high, we slip so easily, right over that boundary into casting our words at others, mostly behind their backs. No matter what she wore or what he said or where they went, it's still incumbent upon us: 'tis always the season to remember our own sins more than anyone else's.
We are told to turn the other cheek, to forgive 70 x 7---in every season. Oh, yes, Christmas is a wonderful time to forgive and forget, to make amends, to start over fresh. So is Easter. So is every single day of the year, when we come to the inevitable realization that our hate and anger only hurt us, or hurt us more than anyone else. 'Tis the season to set ourselves free of that prison and heal our own hearts and those of anyone else we insist on punishing. 'Tis that season at any moment.
While we're at it, let's just make a few other things "in season" all year round. Let's forget the splinter in our brother's eye and concentrate on the plank we need to remove from our own eyes. Let's follow Christ's lead and find the good in everyone, be they people of high birth, low morals, questionable veracity, or sketchy backgrounds. Let's be good stewards of what we have and remember that things do not measure our worth. For Jesus, it was always the season for these ideas. If we truly want to "keep Christ," it can't be "in Christmas" only. Every day 'tis the season.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, brothers and sisters of all kinds.
Disclaimer: I will be the first to admit that I am as bad as anyone (and worse than many) about remembering to live this way; I wrote it as a reminder to myself, not as a sermon for the world. Hence, the "we" first-person plural point of view.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Until It Hurts
Several mornings ago, while I was driving in to school, one of the radio stations was doing a call-in show with a lawyer. I think they call the guy Attorney Adam. Some guy, a younger one, I presume, called in about a money situation. His home had been broken into, and several electronic things were stolen: his television, game system, and things like that. He had gone to an unnamed big box store to get a new TV, but then he found one he liked better and decided to return the first one. When he got home from that transaction, he took the crisp, new $100 bills out of his pocket....and found that he had been given $200 too much. His question amounted to, "Aren't I justified in keeping this money?" The corporation wouldn't be hurt by it, and he had just been robbed, so wasn't God, karma, or whatever just looking out for him?
I was.....well, I was outraged. Literally, I was driving along, alone, exclaiming to myself, "NO! It's not your money, and it certainly isn't a gift!" If anything, it seemed to me that it was a test, even if only for himself: would he do the right thing and return it, even if it was difficult to do? Someone's job could even be resting on a mistake like that. It's been a long, long time ago, but I can still remember that when I worked at McDonald's in college, our registers had to even out at the end of the shift or we'd get written up. Surely the stakes must be a bit higher for hundreds of dollars, even in this exorbitant day and age.
I was relieved that the attorney advised him to return the money. One of the deejays even noted that if he did, he would feel better about it than if he kept the money. I'm not sure they convinced the guy, though.
Maybe the season is what made this avaricious caller stand out in my mind so much. I don't have to tell most of you this, because almost everyone who reads this is a teacher or has one in the near family, or has been one of my students. But anyone in education can vouch that the Christmas season is one of the most rewarding and heartbreaking times of the year to spend with kids of any age. High schoolers show their very best side during this time; even those with little extra for themselves want to help those who are younger. My PACE Club kids have coordinated stockings for Head Start for the last two years, with most of the high school clubs contributing gifts to fill the stockings, and last year we went to the Laura Dester shelter in Tulsa to decorate the family visiting rooms for the holiday. (They loved that so very much and wanted to repeat it, but it's a difficult thing to find time for at the end of the semester, especially when we lose a week to snow.) LGHS Student Council has done Angel Tree giving for kids at the elementary level for at least ten years now---around 30 kids every year. Teachers and students both contribute to that.
If I weren't afraid of breaking some confidences or bringing attention to people who don't want it, I could tell you a number of stories about administrators, teachers, and/or staff who took it upon themselves to quietly provide for kids or whole families at Christmastime. It's the spirit of what brings people to the field of education that leaves their hearts open at this time of year: the certain knowledge that the only thing keeping the world afloat sometimes is how much we are willing to sacrifice of ourselves for others. It's no coincidence that "humanity" refers to both the people and how the people treat each other.
Of course, that sacrifice means that, sometimes, everyone extends themselves too far. What is too much; what is just enough; how do we know when to quit? Everyone I know seems to live by an unspoken principle: You give till it hurts. You do not what you have to do, but what you can't live without NOT doing. A few years ago, right before our Christmas break, one of our staff members had her home broken into, and all her Christmas presents for her children and grandchildren were stolen, as well as her own items, such as her TV. There was no way she could afford to replace them. But she did...because between the students and her co-workers, all the money she needed was donated within a few hours to restore her family's Christmas. Not one of us could live with the idea of that sweet lady, one of the kindest I've ever worked with, not having what she needed for that precious time with family.
Here's my final point on the matter, the one I so wish I could make to that standards-challenged radio caller. I felt a bit overwhelmed with my obligations this year. I didn't do Secret Santa with my co-workers at school because I was a little worried about paying the piper when that credit card statement rolls through in January. We don't do a lot of gifts in my family anymore, only for the parents and the kids, but I pushed it a bit in other areas. I was in no danger of being in financial trouble, just a little stretched. Then Wednesday morning, we were called in for a faculty meeting. One of our school board members came and spoke to how much they appreciated our hard work this year, and that they understood the sacrifices we've all made during the financial cuts the state has made over the last several years---no supply money and such. But they had managed to work out a bonus for everyone: not a lot, just $200, but it was something. To me, it was enough.
I don't think anyone there was in danger of breaking down in tears over $200----but how I wished I could tell that young man: This is how God looks out for you, sir. Give until it hurts, and it will be given back to you in greater measure than you would ever expect.
I was.....well, I was outraged. Literally, I was driving along, alone, exclaiming to myself, "NO! It's not your money, and it certainly isn't a gift!" If anything, it seemed to me that it was a test, even if only for himself: would he do the right thing and return it, even if it was difficult to do? Someone's job could even be resting on a mistake like that. It's been a long, long time ago, but I can still remember that when I worked at McDonald's in college, our registers had to even out at the end of the shift or we'd get written up. Surely the stakes must be a bit higher for hundreds of dollars, even in this exorbitant day and age.
I was relieved that the attorney advised him to return the money. One of the deejays even noted that if he did, he would feel better about it than if he kept the money. I'm not sure they convinced the guy, though.
Maybe the season is what made this avaricious caller stand out in my mind so much. I don't have to tell most of you this, because almost everyone who reads this is a teacher or has one in the near family, or has been one of my students. But anyone in education can vouch that the Christmas season is one of the most rewarding and heartbreaking times of the year to spend with kids of any age. High schoolers show their very best side during this time; even those with little extra for themselves want to help those who are younger. My PACE Club kids have coordinated stockings for Head Start for the last two years, with most of the high school clubs contributing gifts to fill the stockings, and last year we went to the Laura Dester shelter in Tulsa to decorate the family visiting rooms for the holiday. (They loved that so very much and wanted to repeat it, but it's a difficult thing to find time for at the end of the semester, especially when we lose a week to snow.) LGHS Student Council has done Angel Tree giving for kids at the elementary level for at least ten years now---around 30 kids every year. Teachers and students both contribute to that.
If I weren't afraid of breaking some confidences or bringing attention to people who don't want it, I could tell you a number of stories about administrators, teachers, and/or staff who took it upon themselves to quietly provide for kids or whole families at Christmastime. It's the spirit of what brings people to the field of education that leaves their hearts open at this time of year: the certain knowledge that the only thing keeping the world afloat sometimes is how much we are willing to sacrifice of ourselves for others. It's no coincidence that "humanity" refers to both the people and how the people treat each other.
Of course, that sacrifice means that, sometimes, everyone extends themselves too far. What is too much; what is just enough; how do we know when to quit? Everyone I know seems to live by an unspoken principle: You give till it hurts. You do not what you have to do, but what you can't live without NOT doing. A few years ago, right before our Christmas break, one of our staff members had her home broken into, and all her Christmas presents for her children and grandchildren were stolen, as well as her own items, such as her TV. There was no way she could afford to replace them. But she did...because between the students and her co-workers, all the money she needed was donated within a few hours to restore her family's Christmas. Not one of us could live with the idea of that sweet lady, one of the kindest I've ever worked with, not having what she needed for that precious time with family.
Here's my final point on the matter, the one I so wish I could make to that standards-challenged radio caller. I felt a bit overwhelmed with my obligations this year. I didn't do Secret Santa with my co-workers at school because I was a little worried about paying the piper when that credit card statement rolls through in January. We don't do a lot of gifts in my family anymore, only for the parents and the kids, but I pushed it a bit in other areas. I was in no danger of being in financial trouble, just a little stretched. Then Wednesday morning, we were called in for a faculty meeting. One of our school board members came and spoke to how much they appreciated our hard work this year, and that they understood the sacrifices we've all made during the financial cuts the state has made over the last several years---no supply money and such. But they had managed to work out a bonus for everyone: not a lot, just $200, but it was something. To me, it was enough.
I don't think anyone there was in danger of breaking down in tears over $200----but how I wished I could tell that young man: This is how God looks out for you, sir. Give until it hurts, and it will be given back to you in greater measure than you would ever expect.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
I'd Rather Be....
I love my job; I truly do. Few people are as lucky as I feel I have been, to know what I was put on this earth to do, and to be able to do it. But there is one aspect of teaching that I have never and will never love, or even like: grading. And grading research is the absolute worst, the umpteenth circle of hell, exponentially worse than Dante ever dreamed. I've been fully immersed in grading researched essays for about ten days now, and there are about 24 jillion things I'd rather be doing.
I'd rather Christmas shop all day on the 71st and Hell corridor, Memorial to Garnett, than to ever try to get 100 students to complete a research paper outline.
I'd rather have fire ants invade my armpits than to drag said students to the library to (horrors!) read and take notes from reference books.
I'd rather listen to 18 solid hours of screamo "music" instead of having to listen to the chorus of "There's no information on my topic" from 75-85% of my kids.
I'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than to be forced to repeat instructions for a hanging indent on citations for each student, individually, at least 5 times.
Instead of insisting on 12-point Times New Roman font, I'd rather go back to reading papers done on notebook paper, in serial-killer handwriting.
I'd rather have to come up with 608 ways to prepare white rice than to have to read one more page of bland, boring prose on the Constitution or natural rights.
Rather than checking citations on a Works Cited page, I could happily experience another bout of pneumonia.
Finally, I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with a melon baller than to grammatically correct 1500 words of uninspired gibberish from a hormonally-crazed teenager who is convinced that spell-check is all the proofreading he'll ever need.
But oh, when that one crisply-worded, fresh, intriguing research paper comes to the top of the stack, it makes it all worth it......almost. We'll see if I still feel the same when I finish the stack tomorrow.
(Disclaimer: I can't take credit for that melon-baller thing; I saw it on my DVR episode of American Horror Story today, my one little respite from the daily cycle of read/sigh/laugh/weep/repeat.)
I'd rather Christmas shop all day on the 71st and Hell corridor, Memorial to Garnett, than to ever try to get 100 students to complete a research paper outline.
I'd rather have fire ants invade my armpits than to drag said students to the library to (horrors!) read and take notes from reference books.
I'd rather listen to 18 solid hours of screamo "music" instead of having to listen to the chorus of "There's no information on my topic" from 75-85% of my kids.
I'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than to be forced to repeat instructions for a hanging indent on citations for each student, individually, at least 5 times.
Instead of insisting on 12-point Times New Roman font, I'd rather go back to reading papers done on notebook paper, in serial-killer handwriting.
I'd rather have to come up with 608 ways to prepare white rice than to have to read one more page of bland, boring prose on the Constitution or natural rights.
Rather than checking citations on a Works Cited page, I could happily experience another bout of pneumonia.
Finally, I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with a melon baller than to grammatically correct 1500 words of uninspired gibberish from a hormonally-crazed teenager who is convinced that spell-check is all the proofreading he'll ever need.
But oh, when that one crisply-worded, fresh, intriguing research paper comes to the top of the stack, it makes it all worth it......almost. We'll see if I still feel the same when I finish the stack tomorrow.
(Disclaimer: I can't take credit for that melon-baller thing; I saw it on my DVR episode of American Horror Story today, my one little respite from the daily cycle of read/sigh/laugh/weep/repeat.)
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Ode to a Poem
Oh you wayward beast
Lurking in crevices of insight;
You fling out disjointed phrases
Like scraps of metal from a mental grinder.
You slither around corners,
Silent and hurried,
Leaving me only your shadow,
No substance to grasp...
You peek around the gate,
Under furniture,
Through windows,
Amused at my frustration.
Until, tired of games,
You run away,
Or come to be put to bed
Between paper and pen.
cjw
Lurking in crevices of insight;
You fling out disjointed phrases
Like scraps of metal from a mental grinder.
You slither around corners,
Silent and hurried,
Leaving me only your shadow,
No substance to grasp...
You peek around the gate,
Under furniture,
Through windows,
Amused at my frustration.
Until, tired of games,
You run away,
Or come to be put to bed
Between paper and pen.
cjw
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