On Stickers…

stickersWhen I lived in Japan, I heard it almost daily: “You are very large, aren’t you?” I was much heavier then. But I am sure I would hear it there even today since I am built like my northern European ancestors and always will be.

In the States, I most often hear, “You’re so loud!” Sometimes it is a compliment. Other times it is a dig. But the reality is that God has given me a voice that carries and a personality that loves to laugh – and laugh loud.

Here in Guatemala, it seems to be about my age. To a kid in elementary school, 49 is on the edge of dead. To my millennial friends it is about the same. And on the other side of things, my friends going through menopause seem anxious to share all that lies in my near future.

Gray dot stickers.
That’s what Max Lucado would call those labels.
Fat. Loud. Old.
Gray dot stickers.

In his children’s book, “You are Special”, he writes about a wooden person named Punchinello who lives in Wemmicksville. All wooden Wemmicks like to give each other gray dot stickers if they think something is wrong and yellow star stickers if they like what they see. Punchinello is covered with gray dots until one day he meets Lucia, a Wemmick with no stars or dots. He cannot figure out why they don’t stick to her. People try to give her compliments or cast aspersions, but either way, they don’t stick. She tells Punch it is because she spends time with Eli, their Maker. And after visiting Eli, Punchinello finds out that the only opinion that really matters is that of his Maker. And he discovers that because he was made by Eli, he is special.

Such a simple, simple truth.

And yet every day I see people of all ages who are wrecked by the stickers.
They constantly wonder what other people think of them.
They crave compliments and recognition.
And they hate that they crave it.
They wither under a negative comment.
And they hate that they wither.

I have been there.
Still am some days.

But here is what I have discovered: freedom.
The Truth is that what you think of me does not matter.
There is only One opinion that matters. Only One who is allowed to say, “That needs to change”. And only One who constantly tells me wonderful Truths about me.
Because the bottom is that real life and what really matters is NOT. ABOUT. ME.

In the original languages of the Bible, the word “glory of God” is actually better translated the “evidence of God.”
I was not created so that you would be impressed with the evidence of me.
How skinny I am.
How soft-spoken.
How young (which, in our culture, means how beautiful).

I was created so that you would see the glory of GOD. The EVIDENCE OF GOD.
Since He designed me, it is about Him.
Since He created me, it is for His sake that I exist.
Since He is the Lord of All that exists, HIS is the ONLY opinion that matters.

And when I really believe that, really soak that in, really live that, then Lucia is right: the stickers don’t stick.
Does a compliment feel good? Sure.
Do harsh words wound? Yes.
Do I appreciate being appreciated? Of course.
Do I want people to enjoy being around me? Yes.

But do I find my identity there? No.
I find out who I am in Christ.
And I let who HE says I am be the answer to every compliment – and every dig.

So here’s a refresher on who He says we are.
But a caveat here – much of this list applies only to the person who has accepted the gift of salvation that Jesus offers. Any one can accept the gift – and if you have, this is the Truth about you:

You are loved. Not because of anything you have done or not done. Not because you are good at something or you did something good. You are loved as a mother loves her tiny, helpless newborn who has done nothing but cause her 9-months of discomfort and hours of agony in birth. You are loved simply because you are His kid.

You are forgiven. There is no condemnation for you. There is no shame. He is not keeping score of how many times He has forgiven that offense. Yes, He longs for you to be free from sinful choices – but not for His sake. For yours! He is not holding out on you because of your past. He doesn’t ever look at you and think, “Hopeless”. He looks at you with longing and offers you all the power He has for you to live for Him. And WHEN you blow it, He forgives again.

You are liked. I think A LOT of Christians nod their heads with the first two but struggle with this one. God delights in you. He “gets” you. He understands your jokes. He knows just how you feel even when you don’t. He rejoices over the tiniest steps you take. And He is cheering you on in this race that is the Christian life. You are never “too much” for Him. And you are never “not enough” for Him. He thinks you are an amazing creation of His own hand – and He designed you with intent and purpose.

You are gifted. You may not be good at everything – no one is! Personally, I will never, ever be coordinated. Part of who I am is my klutziness. I will never be good at walking, let alone sports. But I have been given other gifts. Many, many other gifts! And He has given me these treasures for two reasons – to show the evidence of Who He is and for my benefit. It is really, truly fun to operate in the gifts God has given you! So, if you are serving in some capacity and not having a blast while you do it, you may be in the wrong place. Or you may be trying to use a gift you have not been given. Find out who He has made you to be – and try not to be afraid of it.

There is so much more I could say.
But here’s the bottom line:
You were designed to walk in freedom.
Free to be who you are.
Free to have the stickers not stick.
Free to play to an Audience of One.

Because if He is pleased with your choices, you will be in right standing with others.
If you walk according to His design, in His ways, the stickers won’t stick.
He designed you.
He adores you.
He likes you.
Will you let Him?

This Is Christmas

Nothing in my world feels like Christmas.
There is no tree in my living room.
And I don’t think there will be.
The roommates are scattering to the four winds when school gets out in less than two weeks.

I have almost no money so there is very little shopping to do.

The ambience is missing. Warm weather, volcanoes, earthquakes, flowers in bloom, squashes ripening on the vine – these things do not say “Christmas” to my heart.

No Hallmark channel so no cheesy movies.
And no Christmas commercials since I don’t watch TV.
Christmas music only if I choose to play it.

Frankly, it doesn’t even feel like December.
And it certainly doesn’t feel like Christmas.

And I am glad.

Because Christmas, contrary to popular opinion, is not a feeling.

Don’t get me wrong.
I love the ambience, the trappings and the trimmings.
And I am glad that I will be home with family for it again this year.
Glad that there will be a tree and yummy foods, gifts and carols, cold weather and decorations.

But I am also glad that this year is very, very different for me.

Because Christmas was never meant to be a feeling.
Ambience.
Or trimmings, trappings and things.

Christmas is scandal.

A young woman, barely an adult, claiming to be impregnated by the Most High God.

Her fiancé, a businessman in the community, having to decide who and what to believe. Did she cheat? Is she pure? Or is she insane? A liar, a lunatic or the love of his life?

The Son of God born in a stable and placed in a manger. No softness except his mother’s body and a bed of straw. No cozy bedroom, no clean house. A feed trough for a bed.

Some crazy shepherds making claims about angelic visions in the night. Who were they to be told first? Who were they to have the privilege of the first visit?

Then the escalation of the heavenly war, God versus Satan, already in progress, now manifest by the murder of baby boys by a wicked king, bent on protecting his throne.

And a young family fleeing into the night, becoming strangers in a strange land, refugees and immigrants in Egypt to escape that same evil king.

This is Christmas.
Scandalous events.
And scandalous grace.

The One who spoke the world into being becoming a speechless infant.
The Almighty unable to hold up his own head.
The Omnipotent devoid of all power.

And then that same sinless God-made-man choosing powerlessness again at the end of his life.
Submitting to torture.
Humiliation.
Slaps. Spit. Slashes with a Roman whip.
Thorns thrust into his scalp.
A purple robe thrown over mangled flesh.
All while knowing every detail of every person who mocked him.
And loving them still.
Willing to take their punishment, even for the sin of punishing an innocent man.

This is Christmas.

Four limbs.
Three nails.
One cross.

Six hours of agony.
Separation from God the Father.
And the crushing weight of sin.

Unable to breathe without pushing up on the nail in his feet.
Yet able to forgive the ones who “know not what they do”.

This is Christmas.

A cold, dark journey just before dawn, carrying spices and fretting about who will roll away the stone.
Shock and confusion that the tomb was empty.
Elation at the words of the angel: “He is not here. He is risen, just as He said.”

This is Christmas.

Light piercing the darkness.
The veil of the Temple torn in two.
The ability to “boldly come before the throne of grace to receive help in time of need.”

This is Christmas.

So it is OK that I am not feeling “it” this year.
Because Christmas is not a feeling.

It is friendship with the Most High God.
It is the guarantee of eternal life and the glories of heaven that awaits.
It is the knowledge that I am never, ever alone.
And that He has ALL my life under control.

It is knowing that resurrection power is available every moment of my life.
And that I have all I need for life and godliness because I have Him.
It is the sure knowledge that He will go to any length to pursue me.
And that He found me to be worth dying for long before I found Him to be everything I need.
It is the promise that He will complete the good work He began in me.
That He will one day return as the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
And that I do not have to fear the future in this life or the next.

This is Christmas.
Scandalous events.
Scandalous grace.
Scandalous love.

Joy to the world, indeed!

A Tale of Thanksgiving (Or Giving Thanks In All Things)

Last night, 7:30 PM:
Cannot keep my eyes open. What started as a sore throat Friday afternoon has developed into a full-blown cold.

“Give thanks in all things”, He whispers to my heart.

“Thank You, God, that I can go to bed at 7:30. I have no responsibilities or obligations keeping me up.”

 

9:30 PM:
Wake up because one nostril is totally blocked. Ugh.

“Give thanks in all things,” He says again.

“Thank You, God, that I can breathe through one side of my nose and that it isn’t totally blocked. Thank You that my throat doesn’t hurt any more. And thank You that it is Saturday night and not a school night.”

10:30 PM:
Wake up when the power goes out. Fan stops. Room quickly gets stuffy. Get up to open window more, wondering when it will come back on.

“Give thanks” my heart echoes His words from earlier.

“Thank You, God, that it is a cool evening and that I can open my window. Thank You that You will help me sleep over the barking dogs, fireworks and other noises, even without the white noise of my fan.”

Sometime later:
Wake up when the power comes back on.

“Thank You, God, that I slept. And thank You that the power is back on.”

4:00 AM (normal wake up time):
Get up to use the bathroom.

“Thank You, God, that it is Sunday so I can sleep in a bit.”

Turn on water to wash my hands – no water.

“Seriously, God?? – Er, I mean, thank You that I have baby wipes to use to wash my hands.”

Crawl back in bed.

5:00 AM
Wake up again, decide it is time to get up.
Stumble up the tile step to the bathroom.
Step in water.
Slip on the tile but do not fall.

Roommate’s toilet is overflowing.

Wait – we have no water and her toilet is overflowing??
Oh – we have a trickle now. Apparently enough to overflow her tank.

“Give thanks in ALL things.”

“OK. Got it. Let’s see…”

Thankful that it was tank water and not bowl water.
Thankful I didn’t fall.
Thankful for tile floors on top of a concrete layer between us and our downstairs neighbors.
Thankful our neighbor, Greg, was up.
Thankful he was willing and able to go wake up Jose, our grounds manager, who is also an early riser.
Thankful that Greg has way more Spanish than I do to explain to Jose what was happening.
Thankful that Jose came to fix the toilet.
Thankful that the towels for mopping up water were close by.
Thankful our washer and dryer are inside the apartment and not downstairs or outside.
Thankful for a (now) super clean floor.
And thankful that Jose also restarted the pump so we have normal water flow.

Give thanks IN all things.

Give thanks in ALL things.

Because ALL things work together for my good and His glory.
Because He is IN the details of ALL things.
And because it is the only way to survive.

6:45 AM:
Still have a head cold.
Still have responsibilities at church in a few hours.
Still have a couple of loads of towels and bathroom rugs to wash.

But I also have a peaceful, happy heart.
A heart that knows He is in control.
That all of these circumstances could be worse.
And that He is using all of them for good.

By His grace – and ONLY by His grace – I have a heart that is “set on things above” and not on earthly things, giving thanks in all things.

Not because I am some sort of super saint.  But because I am choosing to choose thanksgiving.

Because He said to do so.
Because His Spirit gives us the power to do the impossible.
Because the same power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in me.
And because He is worth it all.

So what are you thankful for today?

Borrowed Words of Blessing

Now I know how my kids feel.
Every day I make them write in a “Reflection Log” about their day.
It is a great communication tool between them, their parents and me.

But they often whine, “I don’t know what to write.”
And that is where I find myself today.

Usually when it is time to write my blog, I have something simmering inside me, waiting to pour out through my fingers.

But not today.

Sometimes the struggles are too personal to share.
Or sharing them would negatively impact someone else.

Sometimes the words just don’t come.
And you end up writing about the fact that you can’t think of anything to write.

I find myself here today.
Wondering what to share.

Since I don’t have words of my own to encourage your heart, I am going to borrow some from Elisabeth Elliot, one of my heroes of the faith. If you do not know her story, check out the book “Through Gates of Splendor” or the movie “The End of the Spear”. She is with Jesus now, but her legacy lives on through her words. These quotes encourage me; I hope they bless you, too.

—–

“The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.”

“You can never lose what you have offered to Christ.”

“The will of God is never exactly what you expect it to be. It may seem to be much worse, but in the end it’s going to be a lot better and a lot bigger.”

“Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God’s story never ends with ‘ashes.’”

“God has promised to supply all our needs. What we don’t have now, we don’t need now.”

“God never denies us our hearts desire except to give us something better.”

“Fear arises when we imagine that everything depends on us.”

“Faith does not eliminate questions. But faith knows where to take them.”

“Worship is not an experience. Worship is an act, and this takes discipline. We are to worship ‘in spirit and in truth.’ Never mind about the feelings. We are to worship in spite of them.”

“Restlessness and impatience change nothing except our peace and joy. Peace does not dwell in outward things, but in the heart prepared to wait trustfully and quietly on him who has all things safely in his hands.”

You can find a full list of quotes, including these, at https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/inspiring-quotes/40-inspiring-quotes-from-elisabeth-elliot.html

Between the Sea and a Hard Place

I find myself standing between the Red Sea and the Egyptian army.
I have no doubt God led me here.
To this “rock and a hard place”.
Or, rather, this inescapable ocean of difficulty.
No going back.
No going forward.
Stuck on both sides.
In danger either way.

I must confess that in this place I have been acting exactly like the ancient Hebrews.

From Exodus 14:
“As Pharaoh approached, the Israelites looked up, and there were the Egyptians, marching after them. They were terrified and cried out to the Lord. They said to Moses, “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? Didn’t we say to you in Egypt, ‘Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians’? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!”

Like them, I have cried out to God in terror.
I have questioned His approach.
And what is worse, I have questioned His goodness.
Been angry at His ways.

I like to think of myself as an optimist.
And because I like to make people laugh and am often smiling, many people think I am one.
But honestly, I am a closet pessimist.
I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Always looking at – and for – the worst-case scenario.

And while it is true that Jesus said, “In this world you WILL have trouble of various kinds”, He didn’t leave it there.
He finished with “Take heart, for I have overcome the world.”

In other words, I need to believe that God is FOR me and not against me.
Believe that He is at work, even when I cannot see it.
Believe that He will make a way where there is no way.
Believe that He will take even the worst circumstances and use them for good.
Believe that nothing happens to me without His permission.
Believe that He is never surprised.
Believe that He has my best interest at heart.

That was what Moses told the people that day as they were genuinely (and justifiably) afraid of what their eyes and ears where telling them.

“Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

Do you know what I love about this story?
I love that the people had to wait.
God did not split the sea the instant Moses raised his staff.
Nope.
God sent a wind – a strong, probably terrifying wind.
One that would have whipped up the sand.
Perhaps blown down the tents.
Whistled and howled.

But that wind never moved the pillar of cloud that was between the Israelites and the enemy.
The presence of the Lord was not baffled by the fear of the people.
Nor by the wind of the circumstances.
He WAS the wind of the circumstances.
And as the people sat still, He moved.
And as He moved, the water moved.

And then the people had to move.
They had to walk through those walls of water.
Believing they would stand.
Believing God would keep them.

And He did.
Until the very last Israeli foot cleared the seabed.

And He still wasn’t done.
Because the Egyptians had thought to take advantage of the Providence of God.
They had moved onto that dry land, trusting in the speed of their chariots and horses to catch a million people on foot.
But God moved again.
And the wheels literally fell off their plan.
Their chariots wheels suddenly stopped moving. Jammed by the hand of God.
They knew then that they had made a mistake messing with God’s people.
Ten awful plagues should have told them that.
But this was their fatal flaw – attempting to take out people who were under the protection of Almighty God.

And so God literally wiped them out.
The walls of water fell just like the walls of Jericho would 40 years later.
And the Egyptian army was swept away.

I am so frustrated with myself for being a grumbling, shrieking, moaning unbeliever as I stand in this place.
I have SEEN the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
I have SEEN Him do incredible things with my own eyes.
Not to mention all of the accounts in the biblical record.

They had seen Him send plague after plague for their deliverance.
He had brought them so far – and yet they really thought He was going to leave them to die in the wilderness.

He has brought me so far – why do I think the same way?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to face the Red Seas of my life with fear.
I don’t want to be like the Israelites back then – not even a little.
I want to face the trials with triumph.
With great anticipation of what God will do.
No matter how hard the wind blows.
No matter how big the army.
No matter how confounding the circumstances.
No matter how intimidating the enemy.

My God is bigger.
Stronger.
More.
He is able.
And He will move.

I don’t know how and I don’t know when.
But I know He is up to something that is for my good and His glory.
Something that will show the evidence of who He is.
And so I will choose to trust.
I will tell fear to shut up and get out every time it tries to worm its way in.
I will choose to lift high a sacrifice of praise, even when my emotions are low.
I will choose to fear only One.
And I will choose to believe He is good.
Right in all He does.
That He is for me and not against me.

I am looking forward to how this sea will part.
And I feel sorry for the Egyptians on my tail.
Because my God’s got this.
And I will praise Him for it in advance.

When Jesus Lets You Down…

God didn’t protect me the other day.
He totally could have stopped the circumstance that happened.
But He didn’t.

And I was mad.
My head knows the answers:
God has higher ways.
His thought are not like ours.
He is good.
Everything He does is right.

But I was still mad.

I told Him that.
We hashed it out.
It took several days.
But in the end, I once again concluded that He is either God, or He is not.
And if I truly believe He is God then there is only one answer to give Him:
Your will be done.

I don’t have to like it.
I don’t have to understand it.
I don’t have to think it is the best course of action.
But I am not God.
He is.
And this is where the rubber meets the road on my faith.
What do I REALLY believe?
And do I TRULY trust Him?

I got to thinking about all the people that Jesus let down.
The people He frustrated.
Disappointed.
Exasperated.

I realized there is quite a list in just three short years of ministry!

It started with His very first miracle, turning water into wine.
His mom knew who He was and what He could do. So she asked for help.
He told her the timing wasn’t right.
Her response? She simply told the servants to do whatever He told them to do.
She didn’t nag, whine or yell.
She quietly believed and then sat back and watched.

His cousin John sent him a desperate message.
John, who had prepared the way for Him, knowing He was the Messiah.
John, who said, “I’m not even worthy to lace up his sandals.”
John, who said, “He must increase while I must decrease.”
He sat rotting in a dungeon simply because he told the Herod the truth about his sin.
John, from the depths of his pain cried out, “Are you really the One we’ve been waiting for? Or should we look for another?”
In other words, Jesus, did I waste my life on You? Are You really worth it?

Jesus was with the disciples when the storm came up.
With them in the boat – but not active against the storm.
He was sleeping.
And these seasoned fishermen cried out, “Don’t you care if we drown?”

Mary and Martha sent word to Jesus that their brother, His dear, dear friend, was very ill.
And then they sat and waited.
Because Jesus didn’t come.
He didn’t heal him.
He didn’t even send a message back with the messenger.
And when He finally did manage to show up it was four days too late.
Four days dead.
Decay had set in.
And all hope was lost.
And they said, “If you had been here, our brother would not have died!”

The rich young ruler asked Jesus how to be saved.
And the answer Jesus gave him was a huge disappointment.
The words were, “Sell all that you have and come follow me.”
The message was, “Make me Plan A. The only plan. No other gods before Me.”
And the young man went away sad because he couldn’t let go.

The crowd in Jerusalem – hundreds of people – were so frustrated that Jesus rode in like a King but then didn’t do what they expected that they went from “Hosanna!” to “Kill him!” in a few short days.

Peter was so unprepared for seeing Jesus arrested that he went from “I would never disown You” to “I’ve never met him”.

Thomas was so shaken by His death that he refused to believe in His resurrection without proof.

Judas was so disappointed by Jesus’ overall behavior that he sold his location for a bag of coins.

Over and over again, Jesus did not respond “correctly”.
The person had one idea.
He had another.
The person had one plan.
He saw a bigger picture.
The person had one agenda.
He had an eternal perspective.

It is easy for me to look at their lives, their reactions, and judge them.
Find them wanting.
Wonder why they didn’t have more faith.

But in those cases, I know the end of the story.
The best wine ever tasted.
John praised by Jesus, held up as an example of faith.
Jesus calming the storm with just a few words.
Lazarus resurrected.
The crucifixion leading to my redemption.
Peter’s denial showcasing how the Holy Spirit can transform a fearful coward to a bold and faithful minister.
Thomas’ doubt leading to Jesus blessing me and all of us who “have not seen and yet believed.”

Or, in the negative cases of the rich dude and Judas, their ultimate destruction because of their lack of belief.

I know the end of their stories.
But really, the only difference between their lives and mine is that I know the details of the ends of their stories.
I know the end of my story, too.
God has promised to be with me in trials.
To give me help in time of need.
To supply all that I need.
To give me wisdom when I ask.
To work out all things “in conformity to the purpose of His will.”
To show His glory – the evidence of Who He is – in every circumstance I face.
To work them ALL together for my good.
And to ultimately take me home to be with Him forever, leaving all the pain behind.

I know the end of my story.
I just don’t know the details.
How He will accomplish the impossible.
IF He will accomplish what I want or something else.
How long I will have to wait.
And what tests lie before me.

And that is where I get lost.
Hurt. Angry.
And frustrated.
I want to know NOW how He is going to work this all out.
And I wonder at times IF He will work it all out.

But that is why He gave us all those people, all those stories.
They are examples of how He took the darkness and changed it to light.
How He transformed “impossible” to “done”.
How His delays were strategic.
His timing was perfect.
And His non-answers were leading to better, bigger, more glorious results.

So that is why I love the message Jesus sent back to John as he sat in Herod’s dungeon. John’s disciples asked and He said nothing. He just proceeded to do the work God gave Him. Here is how Luke records it:
“At that very time Jesus cured many who had diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind.”
But then Jesus spoke:
“So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

So what will I do the next time Jesus lets me down?
I pray that I will choose to believe.
Believe that He is good.
That everything He does is right.
That His higher ways really are better than mine.
That He can be trusted.

And I pray that I will not stumble because I don’t understand.

Because He is not a vending machine.
Or a genie in a bottle.
He is not a puppet I control with certain prayers or words or actions.
He is not Someone I can fully understand.

But He is good.
And He is for me.
And I pray that the next time He offends me, this will be my immediate answer:
“I trust You. Your will be done.”

 

A Tale Of Three Teachers (Or, A Tribute to Vivian Fairnot)

5th Grade
5th Grade…

A Tale Of Three Teachers (Or, A Tribute to Vivian Fairnot)

Ms. H. did not like me. It was obvious.
I annoyed her.
My parents told me it was a “personality conflict”.
But when you are 8 it doesn’t really matter why your teacher dislikes you.
You just know that they do – and you shrivel a little – or a lot – inside.

Ms. M. was way less subtle about her disdain.
I not only annoyed her, she actively loathed me.
And it wasn’t in my imagination.
The last day of 4th grade she told me that I was the dumbest kid she had ever taught and that she was glad the year was over.
It didn’t help that she “told” me that at a loud volume in front of my class as the rest of the school was filing in for the final assembly.

I remember those two teachers vividly.
How much they disliked me.
How worthless they made me feel.

But then you had Mrs. Vivian Fairnot.
She gets her full name in this post because she deserves it.
We switched schools the year I went into 5th grade.
And she was my teacher.
What a difference she made in my life!

She liked me.
Enjoyed being my teacher.
Told me so.
And backed her words with actions.
She gave me responsibility.
Listened to my stories.
Laughed at my jokes.
Believed in me.
And basically loved me just as I was.

I didn’t change much at all between 4th and 5th grade.
But I became a different person because of my 5th grade year.
My whole outlook changed because of one teacher.
She wasn’t perfect.
But she loved well.
And for that I will always be grateful.

All three of those teachers influenced who I am today.
How I teach.
What I believe about children.
And why I do things the way I do.

I tell them the truth.
If I believe they can do better, I tell them.
If I believe they gave it their all, I tell them.
But either way, I tell them every day that I love them.
That I am glad they are my kids.
That I am happy God gave them to me.

I tell them to do their work independently – and sometimes to redo their work – because they are smarter than they think they are.
And I tell them to be respectful because I believe they have to ability to do so.
I tell them to love each other because God loves them and I love them.
And I tell them that they can do ALL things through Christ. Even math. Even loving each other. Even the things that feel impossible when you are 8, 9 and 10.

I tell them to ask for help when they need it.
But to push themselves to do better, too.

All of these things I learned from Mrs. Fairnot.
As well as other amazing teachers through the years.
But she stands out as the teacher who made the turning point happen for me.
She literally changed my life.

I never got a chance to thank her in person here on earth.
I found out that God called her home this week.
It makes me grateful once again for heaven.
Because one of the things I plan to do when I get there is to find her and thank her.

I don’t care if you are a teacher, a parent or simply a person who knows a child.
Please, please watch what you say to them.
And how you treat them.
The things you say and do speak volumes to them.
As well as what you don’t say and don’t do.
They may still hear your voice in their head 40 years after the fact.

One final thought – all three of those teachers taught in Christian schools.
All three claimed to know Christ.
But only one showed Him to me through her actions.

Do the kids in your world see Jesus in you?
Do they know He loves them because you do?
Oh, how I hope so!
Because Jesus loved the kids.
Made time and space for them.
Blessed them.
And warned the grown-ups – US – to not give them any reason to stumble.

May you be a blessing in the life of a child today!

And Mrs. Fairnot, thank you.

You always said, “Your walk talks and your talk talks, but your walk talks louder than your talk talks.”
Your walk talked volumes into my life – and therefore into the lives of hundreds of children.
Well done, Teacher, well done.