The Wednesday Pop - Vol. 6 . . . a thank you I wouldn't have thought I'd send!

So, I've been devoting Wednesdays to my Dad, the cool Don Murphy.  I decided it was a good idea, as I have lots to tell and learn from him about parenting.

He might be surprised by this one.  You might be, too.  Today, I have a specific thank you.

Back in the long ago late seventies and early eighties, people didn't give a lot of thought to seat belts.  Some cars didn't even have them - weird, huh?  Well, I think most cars did, but they were stuffed way down under the seat and nobody could ever find them.  And the belts didn't come from behind, over your shoulder.  They came from the depths and ickiness of the between the seat area.  Once you located the belt for your seat, it was most definitely either sized for Flat Stanley or the fat lady at the circus. They didn't work with the spring back system of today - once you found one, it might prove to be ten feet of royal blue silky belt.  It was a real pain.  Anybody remember that?

Oh, what we went through, back in the day.

But, that's not really what this post is about.  That's not the thank you.  My appreciation goes to my Dad for being a bit on the 'weird' side and forcing us to wear seat belts way before everybody else did.  It was a pain; it really was.  Though we knew he forced the issue because he loved us so very much, we were often frustrated by that extra ten seconds of effort needed to be safe.  Dad stayed the course.  I'm thankful.  He had us put on the seat belts, no matter what car we were in.  He had our friends put on seat belts when they rode with us.

The part that amazes me now - now that I'm a parent - is how hard that must have been.  I can see now that listening to us whine about the pesky seat belts must have been a pain.  It would have been so much easier to do what most everyone else was doing and just forget about the safety issue that was becoming clearer and clearer.  It would have been easier - much easier.

But that's not my Dad.  That's not how he does it, and I'm thankful.  Writing this has all sorts of things running through my brain about parenting today.  I'm wondering about the things I need to be brave about;  the yays and nays I need to concentrate on, even when it's really, really hard.

I have a great example, and I can remember it every time I put on my seat belt.  Each time I reach over and do what I have to do, I can draw on the strength I learned from my Dad and hope for the courage to be so bold myself.

Thanks, Dad.

Here's hoping . . .

I got some incredible advice when I became a teacher and learned much over the (almost) fifteen years that I taught.  I loved that time in my life, and I continue to be thankful for what I learned from the kids and my peers.  I remember one particular conversation with my friend Joy, and I have never forgotten the intensity with which she shared her words.  She explained to me that each time she saw a child walk toward her, tap her or ask a question, she tried to look at that child with the love and acceptance she hoped her own children's teachers were giving to them.

That sounds easy; but on those rainy, tiring days in the middle of the year, it can be harder said than done.  I never forgot that, though, and I tried to keep it in the forefront of my mind each day.  When I had my own kids, I found myself wishing and praying with everything I had, that my children's teachers would do the same.  And they always have.  Each year starts with that anxious feeling, those hopes that my child's teachers will love them and appreciate them - and each year, my children have been loved and cared for by special people.  I am thankful to them, to be sure.

This year, though, I find myself with a different wish, a completely new, fervent prayer.  It's different now.  They are older, and I'm hopeful about something new.  I want them to have teachers who care, and I want them to learn and grow.  I want something else even more, though.  As the mother of three children who has just dropped them off in a new school, in a new town, where they know almost no one - I pray for another student to look at them with acceptance and appreciation.

I wish my old friend, Joy, could have a little chit chat with all of the kids at their new school.  I wish she could remind each of them of how it feels to be an outsider.  I wish someone could give me (and more importantly) my children, the assurance that they will be looked at with kind eyes, open arms and friendly faces.  I can't do it for them, but I would if I could.

Chances are good that things will work out.  That I know.  And, though I would like to run through the school halls carrying a banner listing the wonderful qualities about my kids, there is nothing at all I can do to get them through this day, this week, this awkward time.  I'll coach and I'll pray and I'll worry.  But that's all I can do.  Tough stuff it is, and I'll be glad when their friends are running in and out of the house, tracking mud through the kitchen and eating all of the 'good' snacks.

For now, I'll be thankful for the amazing and loving teachers my children have had and will have; and I'll be praying that a handful of brave pre-teens cross the line and invite them into this new life.

List Thirteen - Five things to consider on Good Friday

1. This is a strange day, and my children always ask the smart question . . . "Why is Good Friday good?"  There are many explanations for why Christians call this day good, but I tend go with the one that explains how early modern English used the word good to mean holy.  I like that explanation.  And far more than that, I am thankful for all that this weekend means.  I'm thankful for the many ways that my Christianity allows me to begin again and over again every day.  I'm thankful that I am given Holy Week each and every year to prepare for Easter, and I am eternally grateful for all of the ways that I KNOW that Easter is about way more than a new dress and great chocolate candy.  
2. If you have never participated in a foot washing celebration, I wish you would force yourself to sometime or another.  Every Maundy Thursday, I dread going to the service; and every year I am so glad that I did.
3. Spend some time today and tomorrow considering new life, beginnings, starting fresh.  Sometimes this holiday is hard to really think about when there are too many plastic eggs around, so maybe we can use them as props.  Hold an egg (plastic or real), study a bird's nest on your porch, take a moment to stare into the face of a child or concentrate on one of the fresh blooms in your yard - then spend a while feeling thankful.
4. Try finding out something about how someone different celebrates in the springtime - it's always interesting to hear how very much alike we all are.
5. Get in your car.  Roll the windows down.  Listen to The Indigo Girls - Southland in the Springtime.  Proceed smiling.  (Please don't ever tell me if you do not like that song.)

A thoughtful and thankful Good Friday to you, friends.   And may you get to sing happy Easter songs all day on Sunday.

Don't pray when it rains . . .

if you don't pray when the sun shines.  I found that quote a few months ago.  I love quotes and I love looking for new ones.  I guess I enjoy that good quotes pack such a great punch in so few words.  Tim and I love to paint - our own particular kind of art, we like to call it folk art because that sounds good - and we are always looking for good messages for our old pieces of wood.  Quotes are great for our genre!

This quote, "Don't pray when it rains if you don't pray when the sun shines" is attributed to Satchel Paige.  Maybe he really said it, I'm not sure.  Or maybe he has as many wonderful quotes with his name attached as Mother Teresa - bless her heart, she is attributed with more words than she probably ever spoke (I'm pretty sure she spent more time doing than talking.)

Sorry, back to the quote . . . I love this quote, whether or not Satchel really said it.  When I ran across it, it stopped me and made me really think and I try to remember it often.  I try to remember it when I am failing to notice something special, something for which I am eternally grateful.  I find that situation often, times when I want to remember to be thankful, grateful.  And the quote gets to me, for I am positive that I can sometimes be quicker to ask for help or consider what's wrong more often than I remember to be thankful.

Today threw this quote to the forefront of my consciousness - today came up all sunny and beautiful and just the right temperature and shouted to me to be thankful.  I got the message and I'm glad.  Thanks, Satchel, for the short quip that I can carry with me to remember.  I am thankful, thankful for more than I can list.

Thanks, God, for everyday, the sunny ones and rainy ones.  Thank you.