Archive for the ‘Grace’ category
March 26, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. March 26, 2018
Dear Mrs. Jones,
It was very considerate of you to offer to have a conference with our teaching teammates, but we have decided not to take you up on your offer. Meeting us at the fitness club at the conclusion of your workout before you even have a chance to go for your spa treatment and shower was a strong indication of your desire to fit us into your schedule.
But then to offer a second possibility of a conference at your favorite Starbucks sometime between two and four o’clock so you can get double your Starbuck’s rewards…well, that was taking self-sacrifice to a new level!
I know you have concerns about how we have been teaching Johnny Junior the essential knowledge and skills necessary for him to be successful next year when he enters 8th Grade. Believe me, we understand that pre-algebra is a challenging subject to master, but most students need to pass it before they take algebra. We understand the difficulty of that task, especially when Johnny Junior has missed so many days of school because of the two different five-day suspensions and your family’s twelve day vacation to Disney World during the two school weeks preceding the week-long Thanksgiving break.
We understand your opinion that the first five-day suspension because of the sexually explicit remarks and inappropriate physical contact he made on several occasions to a female student was excessive, but it followed school policy and guidelines. I’m sure it was comforting to find out the family decided not to press charges.
And the second suspension also followed school discipline guidelines. It’s unfortunate that the bottle of whiskey was mistakenly placed in Johnny Junior’s backpack. I’m sure his father felt terrible when he realized that he had accidentally placed it in the backpack as opposed to his suitcase for the business trip he was about to embark on.
We recognize, as Johnny Junior’s teachers, what a burden such events and family vacations have placed upon him. We apologize for being underachieving teachers. We really do want Johnny Junior to be successful, and we will try to adjust to the challenges ahead. We know you’re seeking to accommodate us as much as you can, letting us know ahead of time of Johnny Junior’s absence the week after Spring Break because he will be at the NCAA Hockey Frozen Four games in Minneapolis.
We will try to do our best. With his suspensions, vacations, and also sick days he’s been out of school almost forty days so far. We’ll try to step it up as his educators and overcome that challenge. After all, being in class sometimes get overrated. If you do the homework assignments you’ll get the jest of things.
Speaking of homework, we’re missing a number of Johnny Junior’s assignments. We know you suggested that he turned them in and that we were not very responsible teachers in losing them, but our team of teachers has talked about it. Ms. Morton, his social studies teacher, distinctly remembers when one day she asked for the homework assignment to be handed in, gathered them up, and Johnny Junior looked at her and said he hadn’t done it. Could it be that there were other occasions when he didn’t do the assignment also? We know that’s an assumption on our part, but we were just asking.
We hate to bring this up at this time, but Johnny Junior may be facing another suspension, although this could just be a three day instead of a five day! The assistant principal will probably be calling you today to give you the details and consequences. Johnny Junior was having a bad morning probably as a result of skipping breakfast and relying on the nutritional value of a Venti Vanilla Bean Frappuccino from Starbucks to get him through the tough grind of Science class followed by Language Arts. He probably didn’t mean it, but he called Mrs. Case a couple of derogatory names. More specifically, “a big fat pig”, followed closely by a comment heard by the whole class about the size of her back side. Since everyone heard at least the second derogatory remark Mrs. Case really had no choice but to send him to the office. The good news is that the office staff knows Johnny Junior well so they don’t have to fill out a lot of personal information sheets all over again. His is on file…right in the front so that it’s easily accessible.
Thanks for your understanding about not being able to meet with you at your request. Sometimes Johnny Junior will have teachers who just aren’t with it. Between the four of us on our teaching team we’re now at seventy-four years of classroom teaching. That means a lot of things, but one of the downsides is that we just don’t seem to adjust that well to special cases like Johnny Junior. Perhaps in another ten years or so we can acquire those extra needed skills and quantity of patience to be able to handle things better.
If, by chance, you would like to meet with us during the two days of parent-teacher conferences provided for parents please let us know. There are still several open slots available and it would only require twenty minutes of your time here in one of the actual classrooms that Johnny Junior comes to.
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, adolescence, adolescents, challenging teens, education, educators, middle school, middle school students, middle school teachers, middle schoolers, missing school, out-of-school suspensions, parent-teacher conferences, school absences, school discipline, school suspensions, Seventh Grade, seventh grade teachers, seventh graders, unexcused abscences
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March 20, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. March 20, 2018
They walked into the classroom, three boys looking like they were headed to the gallows. Their math teacher led the procession of the condemned, faces downcast inspecting the carpet design. One of the three had visible body tremors.
They had committed the unforgivable sixth grade math class sin; they had detoured off the road of the teacher’s behavioral requirements for a substitute teacher and done some off-road free wheelin’ stupid stuff. Warnings, changing seats, and more warnings had not brought them back to the right path and so my end of the day written report to the teacher included their three names.
Now they stood before me. They had already been sentenced to make the trip to the seventh grade classroom I was guest teaching in that day. Their punishment, handed down to them by their six foot four inch teacher, was to write apology letters to the afflicted party…me!…come to my classroom, read them, hand them to me, and shake my hand.
They tried their best to be sincere, but how sincere can sixth grade boys be about never, ever, ever straying from what they know is appropriate. Sincerity is a momentary commitment that gets forgotten as easily as the jackets and water bottles left behind as they hurry out of a classroom. “Staying focused” is a higher learning skill safely untouched by the male members of this class.
“Mr. Wolfe, I am sorry for making inappropriate noises during your class. I am very sorry for causing the whole class to be distracted…Next time you substitute in my class I will listen at my best!”
I controlled the chuckling that was bubbling up inside me. The forlorn looks would surely be replaced with sighs of relief within thirty seconds of leaving my classroom.
I remember being in sixth grade! I had so much energy, or as we said “ants in my pants”, that I couldn’t sit still. School was hard, recess was easy! My teacher, however, was Mr. Cooper, an imposing giant of a man who was not hesitant about using a paddle on your behind. Witnessing a couple of classroom criminals receiving their judgments early in the school year caused most of us to quiver in our seats. And…except for music and physical education, Mr. Cooper taught ALL of my classes! He was the shepherd of our class herd for the whole school day…everyday! The fact that his younger brother was a classmate of my older brother at Williamstown High School did not buy me an ounce of grace. I learned out of fear that whole year.
A couple of days after the three “wiser” boys came to me I passed one of them in the hallway. He saw me coming and instantly started inspecting the hallway tile he was about to step on.
“Good morning!” I greeted him, also using his first name.
He looked up, a bit startled. “Good morning, Mr. Wolfe!”
It was a moment of grace in a school hallway, a peace offering towards one who had already made restitution. Perhaps…just perhaps, he will realize that he has not been judged and labeled for life, but rather understands that he is seen as valued regardless of his slip-ups.
After all, he is still in sixth grade!
Categories: children, Christianity, coaching, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: ants in your pants, antsy, apologizing, apology letters, classroom behavior, classroom discipline, discipline, middle school, middle schoolers, paddling, saying you're sorry, sixth grade boys, sixth grade math class, sixth graders, substitute teacher, substitute teaching
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March 18, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. March 18, 2018
Corin Grace Hodges turns three on March 24. If there are any two year olds around who are not using their word quota for the day she has snatched them up. She talks so much you’d think she was getting compensated on a “per word basis”!
Last week Granddad (That’s me!) hung around with her for two days to fill in a gap in child care. It was entertaining, amusing, revealing, bonding, and exhausting. Like a fresh-baked apple pie in front of a hungry kid home alone she had me all to herself and she enjoyed all of me. Big brother and sister were at school so Corin felt a responsibility to not let me get bored!
We played with her Barbies! Actually, I think they were mostly her sister’s, but what her sister didn’t know…would never be revealed to her. When I say that we played with Barbies you’ve got to realize that it was a whole storage bin of Barbies…ballerina Barbies, mermaid Barbie, roller skating Barbie, going to a party Barbie, flight attendant Barbie, Dr. Barbie, veterinarian Barbie, modeling Barbie, Barbie in a formal gown…Good Lord! it could have been one of those weird Twilight Zone episodes where Rod Sterling would say the words “This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area that we call…the Twilight Zone.”
I didn’t think at age 63 that I could play with Barbie dolls for a solid hour and a half, but my “boss” for the day dictated that I was going to! And it was sweetness for my soul, not so much because of the over-populated Barbie basement, but because I was with the one informing me all about them.
The morning coffee got to me and I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. After thirty seconds she came to check on me to make sure I was okay. A minute later when I came out she greeted me with the parental question: “Did you wash your hands?”
A not-quite-three year old making sure her granddad was following the rules of hygiene! In the two days of chumming around with Corin she asked me the same question every time I emerged from the bathroom.
We watched a couple of episodes of P.J. Masks, played the game Monkeys On The Bed, and went to the park where we played church, or as she pronounces it…”chuch!” She guided me to the “cwass” I was to go to, and scolded me when she saw me start to leave my “cwass” without her permission.
We talked about her “bithday” coming up. She informed me what was going to happen at her party, as if she had planned the whole experience herself. In the car on the way to the park she told me to turn up the music! She wanted to rock it with her granddad!
By noon I was counting down the minutes until nap time, scheduled for around one o’clock, not so much for Corin but for me! I needed some rest.
Little kids are amazing. Like just about any other grandfather would comment on their grandchild, I’m pretty sure that Corin Grace Hodges is an almost-three year old genius, but the most satisfying part of the two days with her was to see her emerging personality…and to realize how blessed I am to be called “Granddad!”
Categories: children, Christianity, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Barbie dolls, child care, Did you wash your hands, grandchild, grandchildren, granddaughters, grandfather, grandkids, grandparenting, grandparents, Monkeys On The Bed, P.J. Masks, playing church, pre-schoolers, The Twilight Zone
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March 11, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. March 11, 2018
I hand a black and white striped shirt to each one of them. Each of them is also given a whistle, and they stare at me!
“Okay, boys! Here’s what I want you to work on to begin with.”
“The boys” are the players who are a part of my freshmen basketball team. They are being asked to be the officials for the kid’s basketball program that our varsity coach has operated for the past few years. The varsity and junior varsity players are the coaches for the eleven teams of boys between the grades of three and six. “The boys” have all played basketball for several years, but none of them have ever officiated a basketball game.
They look like a herd of deer in headlights, wide-eyed and unsure of how this is going to play out. If asked I am sure each of them would rather be shooting a game-deciding free throw in front of a packed gym than blowing a whistle to indicate that a third grade boy just ran down the court with the basketball and forgot to dribble.
I have them practice their referee mechanics, the hand signals that indicate what call is being made. However, I know that once the game starts they will be like the third and fourth grade boys who are practicing dribbling using two basketballs, but once the game starts they will all dribble to the right corner. My players will practice their mechanics, but once the game begins they will blow their whistles inconsistently and weakly.
“Don’t let your whistles sound like tweety-bird! Strong whistles and strong voices.”
“Coach, I’m going to be awesome!” one of them boasts, but then goes through the entire first half without his whistle making a peep.
“Coach, watch this!” The boy in front of me is doing the hand signal that indicates he is doing a ten second count.
“That’s great, but I don’t think getting a ten second back court violation is our biggest concern with third and fourth graders.” He stares at me as if I mortally wounded him.
“Let’s keep it simple. Arm up with a closed fist means…”
“Foul!”
“Good! Arm up with an open fist means…”
“A really bad foul?”
“No, space cadet! It indicates a stoppage in play because you are about to give the signal for a violation that has happened, or that it’s a held ball, or that the ball is dead.”
“Dead? So, do we get another ball when that happens?”
I don’t have to respond. The player who asks the unintelligent question is hounded by his teammates.
The games begin and I conduct an official’s clinic as the afternoon progresses, instructing these fifteen year olds on where to stand, what to look for, how to use their voices, and how to sell a call that could go either way? I ask them questions about situations and other questions that seek to help them cultivate the common sense of officiating. We laugh together and they get better each game they do.
“You’ve got to have a whistle on that play!” I yell at them.
“Yes, but-“
“No, yes but’s! If you were doing a high school game right now would you stop the game and say to the irate coach ‘Yes, but!’?”
I hung up my whistle last year after sixteen seasons of officiating high school and junior college basketball, but I enjoy these moments of helping my players see things from the perspective of the person with the black and white striped shirt.
And then the reward! A parent comes up to me and says, “Coach, your boys are so much better at officiating than those who have done it in past years.”
I smile and thank her. It’s a comment I share with my players who still at times resemble deer in headlights…but not as often!
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: basketball coaching, basketball officials, basketball officiating, basketball referee, helping young guys, mentoring, Officiating, youth basketball, youth basketball teams
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March 8, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. March 8, 2018
It arrived yesterday, filled with familiar scents and memory items that no one else would see with any value.
It’s been three weeks since my dad passed away. My sister and brother-in-law have been sorting through his belongings after moving everything out of his apartment. It was a major task just to get it moved, but, for starters, she simply was moving it from one place to another…her house. The last week for her has been a time of sorting through the items that are reminiscent of our father.
In sending me “The Box” she was bringing part of Dad to our house. The box did not contain items that I necessarily need, but it contained some of who my dad was- kind of like a small museum!
I was looking at some of the contents this morning and pondering Pops.
I now have four University of Kentucky ball caps. One of them- a blue cap with a large letter “K” on the front- was worn by Dad, a UK grad, to the UK basketball game back in December of 2016 against Valparaiso. My sister took a picture of him in the lobby at Rupp Arena that night alongside former UK coach, Joe. B. Hall. Each of them had their “hurry-canes” by their side as the camera snapped the photo.
In the box are my mom’s Bible and one of Dad’s old Bibles. Each have their names scripted into the lower right corner leather.
There’s his personal calculator from about thirty years ago. He had not transitioned to using the calculator on a smart phone, because he didn’t have a smart phone. He had one of those flip phones that resembled the walkie talkie’s on Star Trek.
There’s a tube of Brylcreem! (“A little dab will do ya!”) That takes me back! Most of my uncles, plus my dad and grandfather, used the hair cream. That was the thing back in Eastern Kentucky. Dad didn’t need to worry about his hair blowing all over the place. The cream kept it firmly matted in place. When he started having some skin cancers on his scalp, ears, and nose he had to ease up on the Brylcreem. I’m not sure if Brylcreem has an expiration date!
There’s a trophy recognizing his achievement of finishing last in a euchre tournament back in 1975. Mom and Dad went to Florida with three other couples from our church, enjoyed the sun during the day and played euchre each evening. The trophy features a gold horse’s rump! I remember Dad telling me about it in detail. It always elicited a chuckle, remembering the razzing but mostly remembering his friends.
There’s a shoe horn still in mint unbent position. Putting his shoes on properly was an indication of my father’s emphasis on doing things correctly and not in a hurry.
There’s the photo album with the title on the cover “Our Son’s Wedding.” Yes, it’s our wedding from almost 39 years ago. As I look at our youthfulness, and who my parents were back in 1979 all I can say is “Wow!”
There are a few of my mom’s Longaberger baskets. She collected them like baseball cards!
And a stapler! And replacements blades for his electric shaver! And a cookbook put together by people from his church!
And handkerchiefs folded neatly, like they were a part of a J.C. Penney’s catalog display.
I’ve experienced families that descend like vultures on the possessions of the deceased. It’s an occasion where the lust for someone’s valuables devalues the life of the one who has passed on. My dad’s valuables are on the other end of the spectrum. I am like Don Quixote as I look at them, seeing rich memories in a shoe horn and value in a tube of Brylcreem.
I stare at the collection that brings stories and moments back to my mind. Saying goodbye to someone is never painless, but recalling the shared times and conversations…that’s priceless!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: deceased, estate sale, family photos, funeral, grief, grieving, Joe. B. Hall, Longaberger baskets, memorable moments, memories, passing away, possessions, saying goodbye, shared memories, the deceased, the things we leave behind, University of Kentucky
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March 3, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W March 3, 2018
My father passed away two weeks ago three months shy of his 90th birthday. He lived a long life, and for that we are thankful. Carol and I are now the oldest generation of our family. There is no one above us and two generations below us.
Death makes a person ponder and think about where he/she is in the living of their life. I turn 64 in two months and, although I’m fairly healthy and active, I understand that I’m closer to entering the pearly gates than I am to the memories of those high school days.
There’s more research and study being done of the longest-living people around the world. Are there common themes? Are there communities that have a higher percentage of people who are a hundred years of age or older? Are there certain aspects of our world’s opportunities that tend to decrease the possibilities of living longer?
Dan Buettner, author of The Blue Zones and The Blue Zones solution draws out some secrets of living long in his books. Blue Zones are places that he has identified in different places around the world that have a high number of people who live long lives. It’s interesting that Loma Linda, California is the only Blue Zone he mentions in his sharing of information with TIME magazine in the February 26, 2018 issue. Loma Linda is a haven for Seventh-Day Adventists, a denomination that avoids meat; eats plenty of plants, whole grains, and nuts; and emphasizes community and a day of rest (Sabbath) each week. Loma Linda Adventists live 10 years longer than their fellow Americans.
This is not to convince everyone to become Seventh Day Adventists, but rather to note a few of the trends that seem to be “preaching” to us.
Community, rest, diet, and (I’m putting this one in there as well!) purpose. Howard Friedman, a professor of psychology at the University of California, Riverside also draws out the importance of some of the values that are a part of a faith community and our religious traditions: respect, compassion, gratitude, charity, humility, harmony, and meditation. Of course, when a faith community becomes more about power, bickering, discord, and being judgmental the opposite can happen. People can lose their spiritual relationship in the midst of the chaos of congregational dysfunction.
Although I grieve that my dad has passed on, I rejoice in the fact that he lived a long life that had purpose. All of those values that Friedman draws out as a part of a faith community were also evident in Dad’s life.
And the thing is…people are more and more wondering how to live longer and seeking to live longer, but living longer just to live longer is kind of like hitting the golf ball twice as many times during a round of golf. It’s not really what it’s about! Living with purpose and, hopefully, longer…like my father, is where I seek for my life to follow!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, Blue Zones, Dan Buettner, elderly, living longer, living to be a hundred, living with purpose, longevity, Purpose, purposeful living, senior citizens, The Blue Zones Solution
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February 14, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 14, 2018
I’m sitting in the Denver airport waiting for an early morning plane that will jet me across the country, hurry me off it in order to find another plane that will then come part of the way back in the other direction. It’s a hard trip, not because of the stress of flying, but rather because of the reason for the journey.
Dad is failing. It’s not unexpected. His second home this past year has been St. Mary’s Hospital in Huntington, West Virginia. He’s inching towards his 90th birthday. Each week seems to bring a new health concern. Last week my sister was by his side for a consultation with a hospice counselor.
Today’s flight is punctuated with memories and uncertainty.
I remember how my dad stood by my mom’s side in her final days as the Parkinson’s gradually took away her ability to use her hands and legs, and her ability to speak. It was a painful journey.
I remember his journey to Colorado to attend our youngest daughter’s wedding. While there he brought Lizi to tears with the gift of a special piece of jewelry that had been my mom’s.
Since I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, I’m remembering my dad’s hamburgers. Honestly, I have never tasted another hamburger that rivaled his. Even though I got the recipe and instructions from him I could never come close to the distinctive flavor. When you ate two of Dad’s burgers you were sorry that you couldn’t handle a third!
I remember the sadness we experienced when he couldn’t attend our oldest daughter’s wedding because Mom’s health was not good, but I also cherish the memories of his visit about four years ago and how he bonded with our granddaughter Reagan, who was three at the time. I remember her coming into the house one morning and yelling, “Papaw, Papaw!” She paused for a moment and then she said to me, “I know he’s here. I can smell him!” (His after shave announced his presence.)
As the plane flies through the clouds I can’t see anything around me or below me. It’s a metaphor for Dad’s situation. There is not a clear picture of what is and what will be. Somewhere in front of us the clouds will part and the picture will be seen.
My emotions are close to the surface. A few times this morning the potential for tears was heightened, and yet they haven’t erupted as I expect they will. My father’s best emotion was laughter-laced joy. I can hear the echo of his chuckle as we fly over Kansas. I can see his body shaking in rhythm with the laughter. If it was a story that he was telling for the hundredth time he’d close the tale with his hand slapping his knee in total appreciation for the memory.
Death is not a fear of Pops. He’s prepared himself for it. A number of times over the past four and a half years since Mom passed he has taken the hour and a half drive over to Johnson County, Kentucky to visit her grave. His name is already etched on the grave marker beside her. A few feet away are the resting places of my aunts and uncles, and a wee bit further is where his mom, Grace Wolfe, has long since been lowered into the ground. Dad is ready to once again be laying next to my mother. There is sweetness and love in the known destination, just as there is a mixture of grief and peace within me as I consider what is to come.
Being Deacon Emeritus of his church, Beulah Baptist, death is simply a part of the faith journey. Dad looks forward to the reunion of the saints, and the glory of the Eternal Gathering.
“How’s it going, Pops?” That has been my Sunday night greeting to him for the past several years. “Well, hi, son!”
And we’d talk about this, that, and the other…the ladies at Wyngate (his senior independent living complex where he has resided for three years) who have been giving him the eye and considering the possibilities; the Kentucky Wildcats (he being a UK grad in the early 50’s); the latest fire alarm at Wyngate set off by one of the residents who wanted to cook up some bacon on a Friday night in his apartment; how his friend, Bill Ball, was doing (Bill passed away last August); and the weather.
I’ll miss the way we could make each other laugh, and at the thought of it I can sense the rumblings of the tears rising up.
Last weekend thousands of people attended a funeral in Colorado Springs for Micah Flick, a Sheriff’s deputy who was killed in the line of duty. A father, he leaves behind a wife and twin toddlers. It is a story about the cruelty of life, a senseless shooting by a man who did not value the life of someone else. Micah, in fact, took a bullet to save someone else’s life. He will always be remembered as a hero, even in the midst of tragedy.
My dad’s journey gets placed on the other end of the spectrum, a life that has been longer than anyone expected, a life that will be celebrated with tears of thankfulness and the smiles of many.
Things will not be the same, and that’s okay!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Grandchildren, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, aging parents, celebration of life, dying, end of life, grid, grief, losing a loved one, losing someone, remembering, remembrance, senior adults, Seniors, sorrow, the dying process
Comments: 5 Comments
February 5, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 5, 2018
My wife and I went to see the movie Wonder a few weeks ago. We found ourselves shedding a few tears during the film, which followed the story of a fifth grade boy named “Auggie” who had Treacher Collins syndrome. Because of his condition Auggie would wear an astronaut’s helmet around whenever he was in public. He dreamed of being an astronaut because in space no one sees the faces of others.
Ten and eleven year old kids can be cruel, but they can also be compassionate. Auggie experiences both ends of the pendulum as it swung from classmate to classmate.
I was deeply moved by watching the film and pondering its messages. Weeks later I’m still thinking about it!
And then Saturday morning I woke up with a rash on the side of my face that made me want to put on an astronaut’s helmet…or paper bag. By Saturday afternoon I looked like I had a huge chaw of chewing tobacco between my left cheek and gum (Not that I’ve ever done that, but I was born in Kentucky! Half the barns in the state used to have “Chew Mail Pouch” painted on one side!).
The past two days I’ve had a few “Auggie moments”. That is, I’m very self-conscious of my face and I assume that everyone I see is looking at me. There’s a sense of embarrassment tied into it. I don’t feel normal, and normal is what all of us want to be unless we’re doing something that our culture thinks is extraordinary.
Lessons are learned in the abnormal moments of life.
This afternoon middle school boy’s basketball tryouts begin. It’s my seventeenth season coaching at Timberview Middle School, and it’s the seventeenth time I will see the uncertainty of seventh and eighth grade boys as they deal with the uncomfortableness of being watched by coaches and other boys who they feel inferior to. Perhaps God gave me this rash to help me empathize with the pressures of being a twelve year old.
Actually, there’s that hint of uncertainty and inadequacy in any middle school child. With some it just might be a little deeper below the surface, but it’s there. Much of the time he or she simply stays out of situations where it has the potential to rise to the surface.
I can relate. In my few trips out in public the last three days I’ve tried to stay to the left so the left side of my face is away from people. Three months from today I’ll turn 64 and I’m still sensitive to my insufficiencies!
I’m simply a self-conscious adolescent in an elderly shell!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adolescence, inadequate, Mail Pouch tobacco, middle school boys, middle school sports, middle schoolers, self-conscious, seventh graders, skin condition, skin rash, The movie Wonder, Treacher Collins syndrome, uncertainty, Wonder
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January 28, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. January 28, 2018
It’s been a tough week in Spartan Land! The Larry Nassar horror had been going on for a while. I wanted to believe that he was more connected to USA Gymnastics than Michigan State University.
You see, that’s a big part of my problem, and struggle. I don’t want to believe that anything can go wrong in Spartan Country.
Sports Information Director at the Air Force Academy, Troy Garnhart, told me of the Academy’s football game at Michigan State a couple of years ago. He was impressed by everything- the people, the facilities, but, most of all, the hospitality and genuineness of the coaches and players. That’s what I want to hear! It’s difficult to hear that the coin actually has another side to it.
I want to believe that about the other university about an hour southeast down the road. Anything that makes Jim Harbaugh want to puke…like a blocked punt on the final play of a football game…brings a smile to my face!
But this is Spartan Land, and I wouldn’t even want such a debacle to happen in Ann Arbor. One of sexual assault victims of Larry Nassar is the daughter of a man who was a part of the youth group I led back in the early eighties in Lansing. Her testimony personalized a story that became so immense that there was a danger of seeing so many victims- more than one hundred and fifty, but forgetting that each one of them endured pain and suffering.
As happens in our culture, the indiscretions of one becomes the fault of the many. We’re teetering on the edge of a moral ledge where things that have been kept hidden are raising their ugly heads. In recent months, more than usual, an incision into the heart of our society has revealed the darkness of how we live. In our talent for avoidance we usually shrug off the rumors, but, in this situation, the reality has tsunami’ed us. The Nassar crimes are like when you look at a wall and see a crack in the paint, but when you more closely investigate it you notice that the crack extends in all directions.
I want to still live in Spartan Land but the “Green and White” has become grey-ish! I want my heroes to stay standing on pedestals, but I’m afraid that the possibility of falling off is increasing daily.
And how far does the failure of responsibility ripple out? A university president and the athletic director have already retired/resigned. The entire board of USA Gymnastics joined the list of resignations. How many more will be found to have ignored the elephant in the room?
I’ll always root for the Spartans, but when I wear my Michigan State hoodie nowadays I’m reminded more of the damage that has been done to a multitude of lives than I am of Spartan victories.
A school that has been known for “Magic” has entered a new chapter that is entitled “Tragic”!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grace, Nation, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: abuse, coverups, darkness, Green and White, Heroes, Jim Harbaugh, Larry Nassar, Magic, Michigan, Michigan State, Michigan State Spartans, scandal, sexual assault, Spartans, USA Gymnastics
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January 21, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. January 21, 2018
I sit on my stool this morning drinking my Pike Place medium roast and staring out at the snow flying past the window. The storm obscures my usual view of Pike’s Peak, but there is still a sense of peace in the scene in front of me. My earbuds bring soft music to my ears and I sip my morning brew with an attitude of gratitude about God’s hand of grace and abundant blessings.
The last stool on the right at the Starbucks on the corner of Union and Briargate Parkway is my sacred place, or perhaps better phrased, my sacred seat! Some spiritual pessimists may question my choice for where I sense the closeness of God, but I’m okay with that…as long as they stay off my stool! Strange as it may sound, it is from this perch that I have my deepest spiritual ponderings and quiet (with music in my ears) moments with God. Perhaps I should call it “Coffee With Jesus”!
Each one of us needs our space, but we too often neglect to look for some sacred space. We minimize the urgency of holy whisperings in the midst of the culture’s noise. As I sit here this morning God brings people to my mind even as I’m pecking out the words of my blog post.
Ray Stromenger, having a heart procedure tomorrow…my dad passing blood in his urine…one of the young ladies I used to coach in basketball, Autumn Boyles, who torn her ACL in her game last Thursday night…Diana Stucky, who I know will be dealing with a health condition she has in the midst of the change in weather we’re dealing with…my niece, Jennifer Graham, recovering from surgery…Henry McIntosh, in his journey of loss as he grieves his wife’s passing…our neighbor’s, the Nash’s, who lost their eighteen year old grandson back in late October…Nate and Alyssa Price, celebrating the birth of their son. The longer I sit here the more names and faces keep passing through my mind, many because of the down moments of life, but some because of the mountain top events they are shouting about.
Psalm 16:11 says “You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence…”
That Psalm is referred to as a “miktam”, a term that many believe is unclear or untranslatable, but some believe it meant that the Psalm attached to it was of such importance that it needed to be engraved in the hearts and minds of the ones saying it.
I sit in his presence experiencing the quiet joy of the morning, and reciting those words once again…”You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.”
My sacred spot usually runs through three cups of coffee, one blog post, about fifteen recorded songs, and then it’s time to journey back to the rest of my day. It’s an intimate time, oddly enough, in the midst of a gathering crowd of coffee drinkers.
I’ve warmed the stool for the next journeyer as God has warmed my soul. Amen.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Faith, Grace, Holy Spirit, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: coffee, coffee with Jesus, holy whisperings, meditation, miktam, Pike Place, prayer concerns, praying, praying for people, Psalm 16, quiet, quiet time, sacred place, sacred spot, Starbucks, Starbucks coffee, The Lord's presence, the presence of the Lord
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Words from WW Blog 