Once you choose hope,
anything's possible!
-Christopher Reeve
I have always loved "one-liners", a quick, concise statement that instead of being forgettable is absolutely rememberable. I saw this quotation on a
blog I often read, and it just wouldn't let me go. Have you ever read something
that pulled at you, that said come closer...this is something made for you that you desperately need to hear? Almost a "God-Whisper", if you will.
I don't just look at the quotation, I also look at who said it. Who's the author?
It might just be the teacher in me, but I'm very interested in the context of what was said. Was this just a brilliant saying that popped out of someone's mouth, or did they live this saying in their own life?
Once you choose hope, anything's possible!
Christopher Reeve, the author of this one-liner, is best known for his role as Superman, but there was much more to him than that. Reeve was a brilliant scholar, actor on Broadway, political activist, philanthropist, and sportsman.
He was a licensed pilot that flew across the Atlantic Ocean on two occasions. Christopher wanted to act from the age of four, was classically trained and one of his first roles was with Katheryn Hepburn. Reeves just took the Superman role to bring recognition to his name.
Yet what makes Christopher Reeve even more memorable than any acting role he played, was how he lived after a life-changing injury that left him paraylzed from the neck down. One minute he was a vital, energy-filled horse rider in a
competition, and the next he was a quadriplegic. His entire life changed.
He went from being independent to being completely dependent. He went from optimism to pessimism. He went from HOPE to HOPELESS.
Then how in the world did he make this transition from being without hope to writing this quotation that "Once you choose hope, anything is possible"?
The operative word in Reeve's quotation is CHOOSE. He chose hope. He decided to HOPE. He was intentional about HOPE. He hung his hat on HOPE.
Christopher, after a time of deep grief about his injury and what he no longer had, decided to take his life and positive attitude back! His new focus was on being grateful for what he still had left.
He set up a Christopher Reeves Foundation for spinal chord injury research. He gave up acting and became an inspired director. He directed one of my favorite thought-provoking movies, The Gloaming, with Glen Close. It's the story of a family coming to grips with a son who has Aids and comes home to die. Reeves took on a new purpose that filled his heart and soul.
Reeves made a turnaround in his life. He chose hope and that made all the difference. He didn't just say this quotation, he lived it!
What the heck does it mean to have HOPE?
Now, please bare with me as the college professor in me investigates HOPE, both the cultural definition and what the Bible has to say about HOPE.
The standard dictionary definition of HOPE suggests that hope is "feeling something desired may happen." Hope, in our culture, is used all the time to suggest that my life will be substantially better if this comes about. For example, I hope spring is around the corner. I hope I did well on my final exams. Hope, in this context, leaves room for the possibility that perhaps I didn't do well, but I sure hope I did. If is the operative word here, the word that makes ALL the difference. If I concentrate on the hope that something may happen, I am also spending energy on the option that it may not happen.
While I am by no means a Biblical expert, I am, since the invention of Google :),
able to find valuable Biblical info in a spit second.
According to my very quick Biblical study, HOPE means something entirely different in both the Old Testament and New Testament. In other words, God has something very different in mind when He talks about HOPE!
In the Old Testament, Psalms 33:22 says, "let Thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us, according as we hope in Thee." Here, hope is the Hebrew word "yachal" which means absolute trust. Also, in the Old Testament, Psalms 39:7 says, "And now Lord. what wait I for? My hope is in Thee." Here, the word "hope"in Hebrew, is "towcheleth" which means expectation.
In other words, the Old Testament tells us, no declares to us, that the Lord can be trusted. He will keep his promises. When we hope, we can expect and have absolute trust in God.
In the New Testament, in Roman 12:12 it says "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." In Jeremiah 29:11 we read, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."
If you put all of those verses together, it seems that God is asking us to completely trust Him, that we can live in expectation. Since God is in charge,
I can embrace HOPE in Him. That's the kind of hope that discards "If thinking" and "may happen" thinking and instead embraces "expectation thinking" and "absolutely trust" thinking.
And, with a slight and respectful adaptation to the wonderful quotation by Christopher Reeves, I would say...
"Once you choose to trust in the HOPE God offers, anything IS possible."
And that, my friends, is what I am hanging my hope on today!
God Bless and may you know that God Almighty loves you completely
and holds you in the palm of His hand!
Love, Linda
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Saying Goodbye to my Treasured Friend...Neil Lieurance
Ever since I was a little girl I hated saying goodbye. I would get a pit in my stomach that signaled that tears were not far behind. My most vivid memories of "Goodbye" happened almost weekly when my Dad, a salesman, took off in his car to go travel to Oregon and his sales job there. I remember standing at the living room window, my hand pressed tightly upon the glass, keeping the car in sight until it turned the corner...and was gone. Gone. Really gone. I just stood there in disbelief. My heart felt like it would never be okay again until I saw his precious face. My Mom used to describe that a small 'gasp" would leave my chest as Dad's car went out of sight.
There was a silence about goodbye. An awkwardness about what now? An emptiness so hollow that there was almost an echo in the room. I hated goodbye then, and I still hate it now. I hate the finalness of I may never see you again, this side of Heaven.
I was recently in Seattle and one of my stops there was to see my dear friend, Sharon.
Both Sharon and I have known Neil Lieurance, a musical genius and teacher, in differing circumstances. When I first started teaching at Shorecrest High School in 1970, Neil was my sidekick as we put together amazing drama productions like West Side Story, Auntie Mame and the Miracle Worker. Neil was the veteran Choral Director. I was the novice drama coach and our buddy Tom Rodrique was the orchestra director. For three years, Neil, Tom and Linda were an item. We went everywhere together. We spent hours pouring over plays and helping young adults, high schoolers, learn their parts. I'm not sure whose lives were changed the most by those productions, the directors or the students.
When I was staying overnight with Sharon on March 8th, we decided to call Neil and see if we could drop in to see him. We knew he had pancreatic cancer and Hospice was taking care of him. We called him and it was so obvious he was in great discomfort, each breath seemed to drain his energy. While we would have loved to kiss his cheek in person, we decided that a phone visit was the best venue for reminiscing. And we did. Neil laughed, I laughed. Neil cried, I cried. Almost in symphonic response like an orchestra with a conductor or two dance partners in complete accord.
I could hear his breathing and the effort it took to connect, yet I somehow felt like this conversation was life-giving to both of us. I knew, deeply in my heart, that I would never see him again. So I took a breath, said a prayer, and asked his permission to tell him "goodbye." He was quiet for a moment, and you could almost hear the tears coming down his tired cheeks, and he said so sweetly that yes, it was time for that.
I didn't hold back. I told him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him and that I would miss him terribly. I told him how much he had mattered, what a HUGE legacy of love of music and people he had left with thousand of students. I told him that he was a treasure and that I would miss him forever.
Just like when I was little, I felt almost like my hand was on that window watching my friend go around the bend and soon out of sight. I said everything that was in my heart.
Our tender goodbye filled me up as Neil told me he'd see me again in Heaven.
I flew home on Sunday and Neil died that day. I could hardly believe the blessing it was to have spent time with him on the last night of his life. This goodbye was sad, but it was closure. This goodbye didn't leave a pit in my stomach, but rather a song in my heart.
This goodbye was filled with sweetness and hope, caring and knowing. My buddy was leaving, but he wasn't going around the corner and out of sight. He was going home to Jesus. And when he left, a dear friend was holding his hand and singing him into the hands of His Savior.
Goodbye, old pal. Thank you for all the grace you shared, the encouragement you gave, and the warm and wonderful memories you left in my heart. Thank you for the tears we cried and the prayers we prayed. I will miss you forever.
God Bless!
Love, Linda
There was a silence about goodbye. An awkwardness about what now? An emptiness so hollow that there was almost an echo in the room. I hated goodbye then, and I still hate it now. I hate the finalness of I may never see you again, this side of Heaven.
I was recently in Seattle and one of my stops there was to see my dear friend, Sharon.
Both Sharon and I have known Neil Lieurance, a musical genius and teacher, in differing circumstances. When I first started teaching at Shorecrest High School in 1970, Neil was my sidekick as we put together amazing drama productions like West Side Story, Auntie Mame and the Miracle Worker. Neil was the veteran Choral Director. I was the novice drama coach and our buddy Tom Rodrique was the orchestra director. For three years, Neil, Tom and Linda were an item. We went everywhere together. We spent hours pouring over plays and helping young adults, high schoolers, learn their parts. I'm not sure whose lives were changed the most by those productions, the directors or the students.
When I was staying overnight with Sharon on March 8th, we decided to call Neil and see if we could drop in to see him. We knew he had pancreatic cancer and Hospice was taking care of him. We called him and it was so obvious he was in great discomfort, each breath seemed to drain his energy. While we would have loved to kiss his cheek in person, we decided that a phone visit was the best venue for reminiscing. And we did. Neil laughed, I laughed. Neil cried, I cried. Almost in symphonic response like an orchestra with a conductor or two dance partners in complete accord.
I could hear his breathing and the effort it took to connect, yet I somehow felt like this conversation was life-giving to both of us. I knew, deeply in my heart, that I would never see him again. So I took a breath, said a prayer, and asked his permission to tell him "goodbye." He was quiet for a moment, and you could almost hear the tears coming down his tired cheeks, and he said so sweetly that yes, it was time for that.
I didn't hold back. I told him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him and that I would miss him terribly. I told him how much he had mattered, what a HUGE legacy of love of music and people he had left with thousand of students. I told him that he was a treasure and that I would miss him forever.
Just like when I was little, I felt almost like my hand was on that window watching my friend go around the bend and soon out of sight. I said everything that was in my heart.
Our tender goodbye filled me up as Neil told me he'd see me again in Heaven.
I flew home on Sunday and Neil died that day. I could hardly believe the blessing it was to have spent time with him on the last night of his life. This goodbye was sad, but it was closure. This goodbye didn't leave a pit in my stomach, but rather a song in my heart.
This goodbye was filled with sweetness and hope, caring and knowing. My buddy was leaving, but he wasn't going around the corner and out of sight. He was going home to Jesus. And when he left, a dear friend was holding his hand and singing him into the hands of His Savior.
Goodbye, old pal. Thank you for all the grace you shared, the encouragement you gave, and the warm and wonderful memories you left in my heart. Thank you for the tears we cried and the prayers we prayed. I will miss you forever.
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Saturday, March 15, 2014
The Sun and The Moon...Letting God Use Me, Just As I Am!
Like
the moon,
come out
from behind
the clouds.
Shine!
-BUDDHA
Years ago Marlo Thomas and Harry Belefonte produced a TV special called
"Free to Be You and Me." One of the poems in that production has surprisingly stuck with me since 1974. That's right. I'm not making this up. It was so impactful to me that it got etched into some deep recess in my brain.
It was called The Sun and The Moon and it was written by Elaine Laron. It went like this:
The sun is filled with shining light
It blazes far and wide
The moon reflects the sunshine back
But has no light inside.
I think I'd rather be the Sun
That shines so bold and bright
Than be the Moon, that only glows
With someone else's light.
I remember clearly having a rush of emotion when I first heard this poem. I felt like God had created all of us to be like the Sun, filled with His shining light.
I didn't feel like He intended for us to have no light inside or be like the moon, hiding behind the clouds. I remember feeling strongly that I wanted to shine like the sun, not reflect like the moon.
Yet sometimes it just isn't easy to shine for God, as much as my heart wants to.
I don't know about you, but lately I have wondered if I fully shine the light of Jesus in all that I say and do. It has been a tough few months with both of us battling first a horrible flu and bronchitis and then me ending up in the Heart Trauma Unit. Truthfully, I haven't felt much like a blazing Sun filled with shining light. I have felt more like the moon behind a bank of endless clouds. It probably hasn't helped that Spokane has been either snowed in or has barely seen the sun for what seems like weeks and weeks.
Yet yesterday and today there was a brief glimmer, a few sun rays poking through. A sign of new beginnings, a sign of HOPE. A crocus, here and there. Just starting to poke through old, soggy, boggy fall leaves, left as compost. Fertilizer for a new season. Those few rays of sunshine were an instant reminder of God's Grace and Love. A reminder that Jesus loves me no matter what. Healthy or ill. Happy or sad. Courageous or scared.
I am so grateful for the steadfast LOVE of Jesus. I am grateful that He NEVER, EVER leaves me. I am grateful that when I have been emptied by life's lessons,
or a yucky illness, that He fills me up again. I don't shine on my own power, but He shines in me and through me. It's a blessing to glow with His light and to reflect His love. It may not be so bad to be a moon after all.
My word for 2014 is WHOLEHEARTED. I want to live my FAITH, every day, all in, with all of my strength, courage, and energy. Yet when those qualities of strength, courage and energy seem far away, and I feel weak and scared, today my prayer is that I rely on God to give me the strength that I need. I will trust Him to use me... just as I am. :)
God Bless, dear friends!
I love you to the Moon and back! :)
May you know, in your deepest heart of hearts, that the Lord Almighty holds you in the palm of His hand.
Love,
Linda
the moon,
come out
from behind
the clouds.
Shine!
-BUDDHA
Years ago Marlo Thomas and Harry Belefonte produced a TV special called
"Free to Be You and Me." One of the poems in that production has surprisingly stuck with me since 1974. That's right. I'm not making this up. It was so impactful to me that it got etched into some deep recess in my brain.
It was called The Sun and The Moon and it was written by Elaine Laron. It went like this:
The sun is filled with shining light
It blazes far and wide
The moon reflects the sunshine back
But has no light inside.
I think I'd rather be the Sun
That shines so bold and bright
Than be the Moon, that only glows
With someone else's light.
I remember clearly having a rush of emotion when I first heard this poem. I felt like God had created all of us to be like the Sun, filled with His shining light.
I didn't feel like He intended for us to have no light inside or be like the moon, hiding behind the clouds. I remember feeling strongly that I wanted to shine like the sun, not reflect like the moon.
Yet sometimes it just isn't easy to shine for God, as much as my heart wants to.
I don't know about you, but lately I have wondered if I fully shine the light of Jesus in all that I say and do. It has been a tough few months with both of us battling first a horrible flu and bronchitis and then me ending up in the Heart Trauma Unit. Truthfully, I haven't felt much like a blazing Sun filled with shining light. I have felt more like the moon behind a bank of endless clouds. It probably hasn't helped that Spokane has been either snowed in or has barely seen the sun for what seems like weeks and weeks.
Yet yesterday and today there was a brief glimmer, a few sun rays poking through. A sign of new beginnings, a sign of HOPE. A crocus, here and there. Just starting to poke through old, soggy, boggy fall leaves, left as compost. Fertilizer for a new season. Those few rays of sunshine were an instant reminder of God's Grace and Love. A reminder that Jesus loves me no matter what. Healthy or ill. Happy or sad. Courageous or scared.
I am so grateful for the steadfast LOVE of Jesus. I am grateful that He NEVER, EVER leaves me. I am grateful that when I have been emptied by life's lessons,
or a yucky illness, that He fills me up again. I don't shine on my own power, but He shines in me and through me. It's a blessing to glow with His light and to reflect His love. It may not be so bad to be a moon after all.
My word for 2014 is WHOLEHEARTED. I want to live my FAITH, every day, all in, with all of my strength, courage, and energy. Yet when those qualities of strength, courage and energy seem far away, and I feel weak and scared, today my prayer is that I rely on God to give me the strength that I need. I will trust Him to use me... just as I am. :)
God Bless, dear friends!
I love you to the Moon and back! :)
May you know, in your deepest heart of hearts, that the Lord Almighty holds you in the palm of His hand.
Love,
Linda
Friday, March 07, 2014
Friday's Favorite Quote...Less and More..and a Surprise Hospital Visit
Fear less
Hope more
Eat Less
Chew more
Whine less, breathe more
Talk less, say more
Judge less, love more
and all Good Things will be yours.
-Swedish Proverb
If someone asked me how this week has gone, and I answered honestly, my response would be, "Well, it has been an eye-opening one, that's for sure." The unexpected happened, and I got a mighty wake up call. A blessing truly, but not a happy reminder. A wake up call that might just save my life.
Let me back up. For years I have had times when out of the blue my heart has started racing full speed ahead. I get a little light headed, feel a little faint, and physically feel as if
I had just run a race. Over the years I have developed a set of "tricks" to get my heart rate back where it belongs. I use yoga positions, breathe a certain way, cough or use ice around part of my face. I've considered this just an inconvenience since I've always been able to make my heart stop racing. I knew I had something called "tachycardia." I've mentioned it to my primary care physician, but never made a big deal about it.
You see in truth, I am much better taking care of those I love than in taking care of myself.
This last Wednesday night I had some of those same symptoms appear and my heart started racing. I went through my usual set of "tricks", but nothing worked. It just wouldn't stop racing. My beloved husband, Bert, came home and asked how long this had been going on. I told him over an hour. He took one look at me and my almost-never-gets-demanding husband said, "Linda, put your coat on, we are going to the ER." I started to tell him that we should just give it more time when he looked at me, pronounced he loved me, and said we were going NOW.
I've heard that tone before, and he means business when he says it. I agreed he was right and off we went. The ride from our house to Sacred Heart Hospital is only 5 minutes top.
When I get nervous, am a bit scared, or am really scared, I talk more, not less. I was talking like I was headed to a fun Christmas party. Bert was absolutely quiet. And then I started to sing my favorite hymns, that's also what I do when I am scared. I started to belt out "What a friend we have in Jesus" as if I was now part of the Bethel Church Choir. That's the gospel choir my beloved husband is a member of.
When we arrived at the ER, we signed in and when I told them what was going on, we were asked to come directly into the intake room. They got my information and took me directly to the Heart Trauma area. I was still humming, singing softly and looking at a sea of faces who looked back with serious stares. It was only moments before they had all kinds of equipment out and Dr. Dan Hagerty showed up. What a reassuring, gentle and articulate
doctor. He asked questions. "How long had I experienced these symptoms. Was this the first time?" I replied that I had been dealing with this for twenty some years. Here's what I usually do when it happens, but this time it didn't work. He spoke slowly and said softly,
"Twenty years? You have had to deal with this for twenty years?" I mentioned that it might be a bit more than that. He asked me my weight and I didn't lie. He asked me what I did for a living and I said I was a college professor and a Communication consultant. There was a long pause before he said, "Ahhhhhhh." I asked as sweetly as I could muster. "What does
Ahhhhhhh mean?" He replied that teachers often take care of lots of people and forget to take care of themselves. He came over, took my hand, and gently asked, "Linda, could that be the case with you?"
All of this took less than 5 minutes, but time seemed to stop with that question. That's when the tears started to flow. You see it seemed to me that Dr. Dan was almost like Jesus.
Jesus gently asking me why it is so easy to take care of everyone else, but so hard to take care of me.
Since tears were running, no flowing, down my cheeks and I couldn't utter a word or I'd have a HUGE big.ugly.cry right there in the Heart Trauma unit, I just nodded my head.
They started to hook me up to every machine imaginable, and I started greeting folks who walked in like I was the hostess at a party. Fairly soon everyone knew I taught communication, specialized in customer service, and wondered what their grade was going to be.
Some hours later, and after a procedure that took six doctors and nurses to do, my heart
started back into a regular rhythm. They had told me that the procedure of pumping this medicine in often made people sick, but by this point I was softly singing Jesus Loves Me
and had a big grin on my face. I felt immediately better. After several more hours of observation, and a diagnosis of Supraventricular Tachycardia, I was released with the next step being to fill a prescription and see a cardiologist.
Before I left, Dr. Dan asked me if I knew that stress and caffeine contributed to this happening. I told him I knew it did. That's why my coffee is decaffinated and I don't drink
pop. He asked me if I had been under much stress lately and what my top three stresses might be. I immediately knew two of the faces that I was struggling with. I felt a big internal sigh take place. I had let them both upset me. I had allowed myself to get super frustrated with both of them. Both of them were at the college. I had to make some changes and I had to make them now.
On the way out the door of the Trauma Center, Dr. Dan looked at me, gave me a huge grin and said, "You are one tough lady!" I smiled back and said, "You bet I am!"
All the way home, at 11:30 at night, I kept saying to Bert, "This is such a blessing! This is such an "AHA" moment. I have to make some changes." Bert quietly agreed.
Before I went to sleep that night I got out my journal. I keep lots of quotations in it and
when I opened it up the Swedish Proverb (see it at the start of his post) about less and more floated out and landed face up on my lap, almost like a present from the Lord. After reading it, I wrote the following...
"One of my goals is to live more intentionally. I really believe that I just need to slow
down so that I am truly paying attention to what God has in store for me. What direction does He want me to take?
I want to schedule less and be fully present more.
I want to get less frustrated and smile more.
I want to to hurry less and stop and smell the roses more."
It's time for some radical changes, and I can feel God's gentle nudging and his
almost audible whisper, "Linda Marie, you are my precious daughter. It's time for you
to take care of the gift of your body."
And I am singing with new vigor,
"Jesus loves me..
This I know...."
God Bless,
Love,
Linda
Hope more
Eat Less
Chew more
Whine less, breathe more
Talk less, say more
Judge less, love more
and all Good Things will be yours.
-Swedish Proverb
If someone asked me how this week has gone, and I answered honestly, my response would be, "Well, it has been an eye-opening one, that's for sure." The unexpected happened, and I got a mighty wake up call. A blessing truly, but not a happy reminder. A wake up call that might just save my life.
Let me back up. For years I have had times when out of the blue my heart has started racing full speed ahead. I get a little light headed, feel a little faint, and physically feel as if
I had just run a race. Over the years I have developed a set of "tricks" to get my heart rate back where it belongs. I use yoga positions, breathe a certain way, cough or use ice around part of my face. I've considered this just an inconvenience since I've always been able to make my heart stop racing. I knew I had something called "tachycardia." I've mentioned it to my primary care physician, but never made a big deal about it.
You see in truth, I am much better taking care of those I love than in taking care of myself.
This last Wednesday night I had some of those same symptoms appear and my heart started racing. I went through my usual set of "tricks", but nothing worked. It just wouldn't stop racing. My beloved husband, Bert, came home and asked how long this had been going on. I told him over an hour. He took one look at me and my almost-never-gets-demanding husband said, "Linda, put your coat on, we are going to the ER." I started to tell him that we should just give it more time when he looked at me, pronounced he loved me, and said we were going NOW.
I've heard that tone before, and he means business when he says it. I agreed he was right and off we went. The ride from our house to Sacred Heart Hospital is only 5 minutes top.
When I get nervous, am a bit scared, or am really scared, I talk more, not less. I was talking like I was headed to a fun Christmas party. Bert was absolutely quiet. And then I started to sing my favorite hymns, that's also what I do when I am scared. I started to belt out "What a friend we have in Jesus" as if I was now part of the Bethel Church Choir. That's the gospel choir my beloved husband is a member of.
When we arrived at the ER, we signed in and when I told them what was going on, we were asked to come directly into the intake room. They got my information and took me directly to the Heart Trauma area. I was still humming, singing softly and looking at a sea of faces who looked back with serious stares. It was only moments before they had all kinds of equipment out and Dr. Dan Hagerty showed up. What a reassuring, gentle and articulate
doctor. He asked questions. "How long had I experienced these symptoms. Was this the first time?" I replied that I had been dealing with this for twenty some years. Here's what I usually do when it happens, but this time it didn't work. He spoke slowly and said softly,
"Twenty years? You have had to deal with this for twenty years?" I mentioned that it might be a bit more than that. He asked me my weight and I didn't lie. He asked me what I did for a living and I said I was a college professor and a Communication consultant. There was a long pause before he said, "Ahhhhhhh." I asked as sweetly as I could muster. "What does
Ahhhhhhh mean?" He replied that teachers often take care of lots of people and forget to take care of themselves. He came over, took my hand, and gently asked, "Linda, could that be the case with you?"
All of this took less than 5 minutes, but time seemed to stop with that question. That's when the tears started to flow. You see it seemed to me that Dr. Dan was almost like Jesus.
Jesus gently asking me why it is so easy to take care of everyone else, but so hard to take care of me.
Since tears were running, no flowing, down my cheeks and I couldn't utter a word or I'd have a HUGE big.ugly.cry right there in the Heart Trauma unit, I just nodded my head.
They started to hook me up to every machine imaginable, and I started greeting folks who walked in like I was the hostess at a party. Fairly soon everyone knew I taught communication, specialized in customer service, and wondered what their grade was going to be.
Some hours later, and after a procedure that took six doctors and nurses to do, my heart
started back into a regular rhythm. They had told me that the procedure of pumping this medicine in often made people sick, but by this point I was softly singing Jesus Loves Me
and had a big grin on my face. I felt immediately better. After several more hours of observation, and a diagnosis of Supraventricular Tachycardia, I was released with the next step being to fill a prescription and see a cardiologist.
Before I left, Dr. Dan asked me if I knew that stress and caffeine contributed to this happening. I told him I knew it did. That's why my coffee is decaffinated and I don't drink
pop. He asked me if I had been under much stress lately and what my top three stresses might be. I immediately knew two of the faces that I was struggling with. I felt a big internal sigh take place. I had let them both upset me. I had allowed myself to get super frustrated with both of them. Both of them were at the college. I had to make some changes and I had to make them now.
On the way out the door of the Trauma Center, Dr. Dan looked at me, gave me a huge grin and said, "You are one tough lady!" I smiled back and said, "You bet I am!"
All the way home, at 11:30 at night, I kept saying to Bert, "This is such a blessing! This is such an "AHA" moment. I have to make some changes." Bert quietly agreed.
Before I went to sleep that night I got out my journal. I keep lots of quotations in it and
when I opened it up the Swedish Proverb (see it at the start of his post) about less and more floated out and landed face up on my lap, almost like a present from the Lord. After reading it, I wrote the following...
"One of my goals is to live more intentionally. I really believe that I just need to slow
down so that I am truly paying attention to what God has in store for me. What direction does He want me to take?
I want to schedule less and be fully present more.
I want to get less frustrated and smile more.
I want to to hurry less and stop and smell the roses more."
It's time for some radical changes, and I can feel God's gentle nudging and his
almost audible whisper, "Linda Marie, you are my precious daughter. It's time for you
to take care of the gift of your body."
And I am singing with new vigor,
"Jesus loves me..
This I know...."
God Bless,
Love,
Linda
Saturday, March 01, 2014
Saturday's Saying...Food-for-Thought
IT IS NOT GIVEN US
TO LIVE LIVES
OF UNDISRUPTED CALM, BOREDOM,
AND MEDIOCRITY.
IT IS GIVEN US
TO BE EDGE-DWELLERS
-Jay Deacon
I love this quotation, I really do. It speaks to my heart about life being an adventure and taking risks. Yet another part of me wishes to argue with the author, and having been on the Debate Team of the University of Washington I can swing a fine argument.
I don't know Mr. Deacon, and I am sure he is a fine fellow. Yet I want to say to him something along the lines of...
"Edge-dwell, really?" "You want us to not live lives of undisrupted calm and dwell on the edge?"
"Well see here, Mister. I HAVE been dwelling on the edge and a little undisrupted calm sounds pretty great to me right now!"
"No, I don't want mediocrity either, yet some boredom might help me regroup."
I'm like that, you know. Chatting back in my mind to people, and even sometimes chatting back with God. I'm good for at least five, loud, in-my-head,
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" comments per week (all said in a semi-loud, whiny voice)...
Are you kidding me that the temperature is going to be 7 degrees the first week in March?
Are you kidding me that there is so much snow in Spokane that you can hardly
get out our back door and it feels like spring will never get here?
Are you kidding me that no one is going to vacuum my classroom at the college
so I need to bring my own vac to school?
My "Are you kidding me?" retorts are all laced with impatience. Yes, my very own, ugly, sinful, prideful impatience. The kind of impatience that I see in a toddler who stomps their foot when they don't get what they want, when they want it.
Yet, and I may be rationalizing here, I think..
IMPATIENCE MAY COME FROM A BIT OF TOO MUCH EDGE-DWELLING.
When I am fearful, and don't fully trust the Lord, I can turn a situation into a fear-based trauma that catapults me to edge-dwelling while holding my breath.
Edge-dwelling that is self-created, fear-based and leaves Jesus out of the equation just doesn't work for me. And the Lord knows I've tried it. It is all about trying to get things to happen in a way that works for me and a request, no a demand, that it happen in my timing. If I'm edge-dwelling and seeking to somehow control the uncontrollable, then that is pure misery and poorly extended energy.
Edge-dwelling as an adventure, with Jesus in the center, looks quite different.
I am breathing, trusting, and knowing that this Adventure God has me on is guided by Him.
If I sit on the edge, breathe, listen to Him, read His word, and TRUST His plan for my life, the view from the edge is breath-taking, guided by Him, and full of a spirit-of-adventure.
On the "edge" means I am lovingly confronted with my growing edges. He is patient, knows who I am, and knows my heart. He is my patience and my reserve. He loves me exactly as I am and loves me too much to leave me on that edge without helping me to change.
And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is food-for-thought that I can easily swallow! :)
Sending you warm, joy-filled weekend hugs, no matter what the temperature is where you are.
God Bless!
Love, Linda
TO LIVE LIVES
OF UNDISRUPTED CALM, BOREDOM,
AND MEDIOCRITY.
IT IS GIVEN US
TO BE EDGE-DWELLERS
-Jay Deacon
I love this quotation, I really do. It speaks to my heart about life being an adventure and taking risks. Yet another part of me wishes to argue with the author, and having been on the Debate Team of the University of Washington I can swing a fine argument.
I don't know Mr. Deacon, and I am sure he is a fine fellow. Yet I want to say to him something along the lines of...
"Edge-dwell, really?" "You want us to not live lives of undisrupted calm and dwell on the edge?"
"Well see here, Mister. I HAVE been dwelling on the edge and a little undisrupted calm sounds pretty great to me right now!"
"No, I don't want mediocrity either, yet some boredom might help me regroup."
I'm like that, you know. Chatting back in my mind to people, and even sometimes chatting back with God. I'm good for at least five, loud, in-my-head,
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" comments per week (all said in a semi-loud, whiny voice)...
Are you kidding me that the temperature is going to be 7 degrees the first week in March?
Are you kidding me that there is so much snow in Spokane that you can hardly
get out our back door and it feels like spring will never get here?
Are you kidding me that no one is going to vacuum my classroom at the college
so I need to bring my own vac to school?
My "Are you kidding me?" retorts are all laced with impatience. Yes, my very own, ugly, sinful, prideful impatience. The kind of impatience that I see in a toddler who stomps their foot when they don't get what they want, when they want it.
Yet, and I may be rationalizing here, I think..
IMPATIENCE MAY COME FROM A BIT OF TOO MUCH EDGE-DWELLING.
When I am fearful, and don't fully trust the Lord, I can turn a situation into a fear-based trauma that catapults me to edge-dwelling while holding my breath.
Edge-dwelling that is self-created, fear-based and leaves Jesus out of the equation just doesn't work for me. And the Lord knows I've tried it. It is all about trying to get things to happen in a way that works for me and a request, no a demand, that it happen in my timing. If I'm edge-dwelling and seeking to somehow control the uncontrollable, then that is pure misery and poorly extended energy.
Edge-dwelling as an adventure, with Jesus in the center, looks quite different.
I am breathing, trusting, and knowing that this Adventure God has me on is guided by Him.
If I sit on the edge, breathe, listen to Him, read His word, and TRUST His plan for my life, the view from the edge is breath-taking, guided by Him, and full of a spirit-of-adventure.
On the "edge" means I am lovingly confronted with my growing edges. He is patient, knows who I am, and knows my heart. He is my patience and my reserve. He loves me exactly as I am and loves me too much to leave me on that edge without helping me to change.
And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is food-for-thought that I can easily swallow! :)
Sending you warm, joy-filled weekend hugs, no matter what the temperature is where you are.
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Soak in the Wisdom of Women- Vicky Westra, Ann Voskamp and Others Who Inspire Me
I am AMAZED, truly amazed
I am stunned and shocked and inspired
I am soaking it ALL in, deep into my bones
I am grateful overflowing
I am brought to my knees as tears fall, absorbing the dust and residue of my old hurts
I am refreshed and renewed
By His message filtered through their words
I am feeling my heart, opened in new ways
Pried open by the LOVE of Jesus
Sifted through the wisdom of these sisters
These sisters of inspiration
These God reminders
These movers in the Faith
These doers, not just talkers, although they talk so well and move so many
These authentic Jesus followers who lay it all down
These courageous givers and writers and day-changers
These picture-takers whose photographs and words move my soul
These Mommas to their own and Mommas to the forgotten
You are living His story for your lives
I am changed because of you
Your generosity of spirit
Your own hurts out on a table like the last supper, an offering
To Him
To us
To me
Your courage makes my own heart beat stronger
Your fight for life makes me appreciate, even more, every minute I am gifted
Your authenticity and transparency to share and be real and be deeply honest to the core
It challenges me to be ALL He means me to be
You are writers, sweet sisters of wisdom
You are livers and givers
You move mountains and help to make Jesus real
The Jesus who loves
The Jesus who is there with every heart beat
Who never leaves us
Who sustains us in times of the deepest. heart. breaks
You, sisters, who set aside your own ego, your own accomplishments
You point the way to God Almighty
The Ruler of the Universe
The Creator
The Sustainer
The Jesus I know and love and serve
You are preachers and lovers and doers and you give feet and heart-beat to His word
You light the way to His sacrifice, by your very own.
You minister, just as he did.
You give yourself away so He can use you.
And I am grateful beyond words.
I am stunned and shocked and inspired
I am soaking it ALL in, deep into my bones
I am grateful overflowing
I am brought to my knees as tears fall, absorbing the dust and residue of my old hurts
I am refreshed and renewed
By His message filtered through their words
I am feeling my heart, opened in new ways
Pried open by the LOVE of Jesus
Sifted through the wisdom of these sisters
These sisters of inspiration
These God reminders
These movers in the Faith
These doers, not just talkers, although they talk so well and move so many
These authentic Jesus followers who lay it all down
These courageous givers and writers and day-changers
These picture-takers whose photographs and words move my soul
These Mommas to their own and Mommas to the forgotten
You are living His story for your lives
I am changed because of you
Your generosity of spirit
Your own hurts out on a table like the last supper, an offering
To Him
To us
To me
Your courage makes my own heart beat stronger
Your fight for life makes me appreciate, even more, every minute I am gifted
Your authenticity and transparency to share and be real and be deeply honest to the core
It challenges me to be ALL He means me to be
You are writers, sweet sisters of wisdom
You are livers and givers
You move mountains and help to make Jesus real
The Jesus who loves
The Jesus who is there with every heart beat
Who never leaves us
Who sustains us in times of the deepest. heart. breaks
You, sisters, who set aside your own ego, your own accomplishments
You point the way to God Almighty
The Ruler of the Universe
The Creator
The Sustainer
The Jesus I know and love and serve
You are preachers and lovers and doers and you give feet and heart-beat to His word
You light the way to His sacrifice, by your very own.
You minister, just as he did.
You give yourself away so He can use you.
And I am grateful beyond words.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
A Teary Day, February 19th, Happy Birthday Mom!
I miss my Mom!
I miss my Mom every day, but especially today since it is her birthday!
She would have been 96 years old today. I started to talk about her in one of the
college classes I teach, and I found myself very teary, even just saying that
it is her birthday.
Dolores Stanbury McColm was an amazing Mom who adored me every day of my life.
While I was a bit of a mystery to her, since I am an extrovert and she was an introvert,
she SHOWED up in my life, she was present physically and emotionally, she was on
my side, and she had my back! I have SO many great memories of her mothering and caring.
So many times when she "saved the day," showed up at my events, and took me to a million
activities. She was brilliant, beautiful, organized, thoughtful, unselfish and generous. She even sent anniversary cards to her friends who had lost their husbands, knowing that day would be tough for them.
It's amazing to me the HUGE hole that is left after her passing. She was ill for about three years, and the last two and a half years I went every other weekend to Seattle to coordinate her health care and help care for her. I felt honored to do that, to give back to a Momma who gave so much to me.
I feel so blessed to have had her as my Mom!
Happy Birthday, Mom! I miss you more than words can ever express!
God Bless!
Love,
Linda
I miss my Mom every day, but especially today since it is her birthday!
She would have been 96 years old today. I started to talk about her in one of the
college classes I teach, and I found myself very teary, even just saying that
it is her birthday.
Dolores Stanbury McColm was an amazing Mom who adored me every day of my life.
While I was a bit of a mystery to her, since I am an extrovert and she was an introvert,
she SHOWED up in my life, she was present physically and emotionally, she was on
my side, and she had my back! I have SO many great memories of her mothering and caring.
So many times when she "saved the day," showed up at my events, and took me to a million
activities. She was brilliant, beautiful, organized, thoughtful, unselfish and generous. She even sent anniversary cards to her friends who had lost their husbands, knowing that day would be tough for them.
It's amazing to me the HUGE hole that is left after her passing. She was ill for about three years, and the last two and a half years I went every other weekend to Seattle to coordinate her health care and help care for her. I felt honored to do that, to give back to a Momma who gave so much to me.
I feel so blessed to have had her as my Mom!
Happy Birthday, Mom! I miss you more than words can ever express!
God Bless!
Love,
Linda
Monday, February 17, 2014
Why Going to Church Matters, Especially When You Really, REALLY Want to Stay Home!
Well...
Pure and simple, I can be stubborn. No, not just a little stubborn, really stubborn.
There are times I want my way. I don't want to have to adhere to someone else's
schedule or wants or ideas. I want to make my own structure, set my own limits,
make my own timing.
Truth be told, I think my being stubborn has gotten in the way of some of my relationships. Okay, probably more than some. If needing to be right qualifies as being stubborn, then maybe quite a few
relationships.
It has certainly gotten in the way of my relationship with God.
Let me explain.
My week is busy, more truthfully very busy, packed, full of deadlines and schedules over-brimming.
I do the scheduling. I jam pack that baby almost every week. For years I have had two jobs.
College Professor and owner of a Communication Consulting Company. I love doing both.
I am passionate about both. I want to serve people and help them live their best life. Add to that time with my beloved husband, adult children and grandchildren, and the schedule almost looks undoable.
It's also a habit to do so much and arrive at Friday sort of gasping for air.
When Saturday morning comes, and there is no schedule, I am overjoyed!
I cannot contain my smiles,relief and exuberance for life. I am grateful for Everything. Every cup of coffee, walk outdoors, every moment when there is time to breathe. I putter around our home smiling and singing. Or I turn gospel music up loud and feel my spirit soar with each high note praising God Almighty. I tell my beloved husband, Bert, that Saturday is my favorite day. I don't just tell him once, I tell him almost every time he turns around. I look like a kid who just got their first puppy.
And then when I wake up on Sunday morning, I can feel the tension of resentment start to set in.
I feel conflicted. I want to feel like I did Saturday morning, but there is one major obstacle.
Church. Going to Church.
Now what you may know, or not know, is that we attend a small Church which is primarily African-American. In the African-American community, going to Church is a several hour process. The actual service can take 2 hours. Easily. My husband sings in the choir, so he goes early. I go to Sunday school before Church so I am there early as well.
So the whole process takes most of a morning and even into the early afternoon.
We often go with our adopted Granddaughter from Ethiopia, and she is pure JOY, so that helps get me going. And the congregation is FILLED with some of the most amazing, warm and supportive people I have ever met. They are genuine and a breath of fresh air to my soul.
Yet if I'm honest, the internal process, the grumblings and twistings of "I'll go, I don't want to go", go on in my head and heart.
Now understand, I would easily give three hours to a coffee date with my husband or daughters. I would have no resentment, no looking at my watch, no wishing it was over and I didn't have to go.
I would be ecstatic at the chance to spend time with them and get to know them better. I would participate with an open mind and open heart.
How ironic that I would be so stubborn about giving God time to worship Him and know Him better.
It's also ironic that once at I'm at God's house, and soaking up the hugs of fellow believers and travelers in my journey with Jesus, when I hear I hear that first Gospel song, when I hear that first prayer, "Oh Lord, you woke us up this morning and You didn't have to. We thank you. Lord."...once I set aside my stubborn will... I am all in! I love being at church.
While I love to know more about the Lord through the writings of Pastors like Rick Warren, reading my Bible and my book Jesus Calling, and praying every morning over my first cup of coffee...
nothing, and I mean NOTHING, changes my heart like worshiping, praising and learning about God in the fellowship of believers. I think God must chuckle sometimes, and I do believe that God has a sense of humor, when He hears my inner grumblings , sees my stubborness, and then sees my eventual relief.
By worshiping God, and going to church, I am right where I belong.
My inner self can act like a stubborn toddler, fighting doing what is the right thing to do, yet when I finally give in and relinquish my own "I want to do what I want" self, I am at peace.
What I know for sure is that if the Jesus I Know and Love and Serve is the center of my life, which He is, then He deserves my undivided attention. Certainly at Church on Sunday. He deserves not having to compete with the Internet, phone calls, and interruptions, even the most pleasant ones.
If I treated my family and friends with the same disrespect I often treat God, the same reluctance to give them my full attention, I wouldn't have good relationships with any of my family or friends.
It's just that simple.
I have told myself, time and time again, that I can worship God anywhere. And that is true.
But what is missing in anywhere, is getting to know God at a deeper level. At Church that deeper level often comes from listening to a sermon that rocks my soul and asks me to look at myself in new ways that challenge me. It is finding a Bible verse that seems like it was written only for me and what I am going through in that exact moment.
Human relationships only grow if they are given significant time and attention.
My relationship with God only grows if I give Him significant time and attention.
The math equation is simple, really.
More quality time with my husband + getting to know more about him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with him.
More quality time with God + getting to know more about Him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with Him.
So at church this week, during one of the hymns that had tears streaming down my cheeks, I asked God to please forgive my stubborn ways, my reluctance to come closer and know more of Him, my being stubborn about coming to His house to worship.
The words to the hymn were ...
"I give myself away, I give myself away, so You can use me."
You can't give yourself away if you are being stubborn and have your heals dug in so deeply that you don't have to change.
And a prayer was answered. I could feel that stubborn spirit melting inside my heart.
And I am grateful beyond words!
God Bless!
Love Linda
Pure and simple, I can be stubborn. No, not just a little stubborn, really stubborn.
There are times I want my way. I don't want to have to adhere to someone else's
schedule or wants or ideas. I want to make my own structure, set my own limits,
make my own timing.
Truth be told, I think my being stubborn has gotten in the way of some of my relationships. Okay, probably more than some. If needing to be right qualifies as being stubborn, then maybe quite a few
relationships.
It has certainly gotten in the way of my relationship with God.
Let me explain.
My week is busy, more truthfully very busy, packed, full of deadlines and schedules over-brimming.
I do the scheduling. I jam pack that baby almost every week. For years I have had two jobs.
College Professor and owner of a Communication Consulting Company. I love doing both.
I am passionate about both. I want to serve people and help them live their best life. Add to that time with my beloved husband, adult children and grandchildren, and the schedule almost looks undoable.
It's also a habit to do so much and arrive at Friday sort of gasping for air.
When Saturday morning comes, and there is no schedule, I am overjoyed!
I cannot contain my smiles,relief and exuberance for life. I am grateful for Everything. Every cup of coffee, walk outdoors, every moment when there is time to breathe. I putter around our home smiling and singing. Or I turn gospel music up loud and feel my spirit soar with each high note praising God Almighty. I tell my beloved husband, Bert, that Saturday is my favorite day. I don't just tell him once, I tell him almost every time he turns around. I look like a kid who just got their first puppy.
And then when I wake up on Sunday morning, I can feel the tension of resentment start to set in.
I feel conflicted. I want to feel like I did Saturday morning, but there is one major obstacle.
Church. Going to Church.
Now what you may know, or not know, is that we attend a small Church which is primarily African-American. In the African-American community, going to Church is a several hour process. The actual service can take 2 hours. Easily. My husband sings in the choir, so he goes early. I go to Sunday school before Church so I am there early as well.
So the whole process takes most of a morning and even into the early afternoon.
We often go with our adopted Granddaughter from Ethiopia, and she is pure JOY, so that helps get me going. And the congregation is FILLED with some of the most amazing, warm and supportive people I have ever met. They are genuine and a breath of fresh air to my soul.
Yet if I'm honest, the internal process, the grumblings and twistings of "I'll go, I don't want to go", go on in my head and heart.
Now understand, I would easily give three hours to a coffee date with my husband or daughters. I would have no resentment, no looking at my watch, no wishing it was over and I didn't have to go.
I would be ecstatic at the chance to spend time with them and get to know them better. I would participate with an open mind and open heart.
How ironic that I would be so stubborn about giving God time to worship Him and know Him better.
It's also ironic that once at I'm at God's house, and soaking up the hugs of fellow believers and travelers in my journey with Jesus, when I hear I hear that first Gospel song, when I hear that first prayer, "Oh Lord, you woke us up this morning and You didn't have to. We thank you. Lord."...once I set aside my stubborn will... I am all in! I love being at church.
While I love to know more about the Lord through the writings of Pastors like Rick Warren, reading my Bible and my book Jesus Calling, and praying every morning over my first cup of coffee...
nothing, and I mean NOTHING, changes my heart like worshiping, praising and learning about God in the fellowship of believers. I think God must chuckle sometimes, and I do believe that God has a sense of humor, when He hears my inner grumblings , sees my stubborness, and then sees my eventual relief.
By worshiping God, and going to church, I am right where I belong.
My inner self can act like a stubborn toddler, fighting doing what is the right thing to do, yet when I finally give in and relinquish my own "I want to do what I want" self, I am at peace.
What I know for sure is that if the Jesus I Know and Love and Serve is the center of my life, which He is, then He deserves my undivided attention. Certainly at Church on Sunday. He deserves not having to compete with the Internet, phone calls, and interruptions, even the most pleasant ones.
If I treated my family and friends with the same disrespect I often treat God, the same reluctance to give them my full attention, I wouldn't have good relationships with any of my family or friends.
It's just that simple.
I have told myself, time and time again, that I can worship God anywhere. And that is true.
But what is missing in anywhere, is getting to know God at a deeper level. At Church that deeper level often comes from listening to a sermon that rocks my soul and asks me to look at myself in new ways that challenge me. It is finding a Bible verse that seems like it was written only for me and what I am going through in that exact moment.
Human relationships only grow if they are given significant time and attention.
My relationship with God only grows if I give Him significant time and attention.
The math equation is simple, really.
More quality time with my husband + getting to know more about him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with him.
More quality time with God + getting to know more about Him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with Him.
So at church this week, during one of the hymns that had tears streaming down my cheeks, I asked God to please forgive my stubborn ways, my reluctance to come closer and know more of Him, my being stubborn about coming to His house to worship.
The words to the hymn were ...
"I give myself away, I give myself away, so You can use me."
You can't give yourself away if you are being stubborn and have your heals dug in so deeply that you don't have to change.
And a prayer was answered. I could feel that stubborn spirit melting inside my heart.
And I am grateful beyond words!
God Bless!
Love Linda
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Okay...So I Am Old-Fashioned and Proud of It!
Well the day finally came. The day my Grandma used to tell me about. The day when I would use words like..."Back in the day", "I know it's old-fashioned, but..."
The day I would wonder what in heaven's name is this world coming to?
In the college classroom where I teach, I declare proudly that I have old-fashioned values. While I do not generalize about college students, because so many of them are exceptional human beings and courageous people, I do find that how I conduct my classroom seems to, at times, bring a few chuckles and shakes-of-the-head.
I actually spend a whole class hour at the beginning of the quarter, in every class, talking about my "Expectations" for how things will run in my classroom. Students also have a chance to share their expectations for me, their expectations for their fellow classmates, and their expectations for themselves.
I want all of us to be on the same page. It seems like I've talked and talked about this for years and years. Actually, I guess I have.
Amazingly, this is my 47th year of being a teacher, 37 of those years have been my beloved Spokane Community College. Yes, the culture has changed during that expanse of time. Cell phones are in. Text messaging rules the day. Formal hand-written letters are almost extinct in this college culture, yet my heart skips a beat and I almost get teary when I receive one, especially from one of my students.
Yet while many things have changed in a college setting, and I may NEVER get used to a few students coming to class in pajama bottoms, over the years my expectations have stayed quite the same.
Here are a few life-lessons, in my book, that never go out of style:
1) Be on time. Actually, whenever possible, be a little early: That goes for walking into a college classroom, church, a family dinner your Mother makes, a job interview, a coffee date, or a meeting with your college professor. Being on time shows that you respect the other person's time as much as your own. If you leave them waiting, and there wasn't an emergency or good reason to be late, you lose credibility about being a person who is trustworthy.
2) If you have to be late, try to call or email the person so they are not left wondering what happened to you. And if you come into a room late, apologize and acknowledge politely that you notice you have kept someone waiting. If you come into a college classroom late, quietly take your seat and quietly apologize for interrupting and distracting from what is going on. It never works well to be late, make a scene, throw down a book bag with a huge "THUMP!", give a sigh of resignation, and throw yourself into your desk. Or even worse, if there is a guest speaker, walk right in front of them to get to a desk across the room. Instead, take an available seat by the door so as to cause the least disturbance possible.
3) Never, and I repeat NEVER, yell at or raise your voice to your teacher, professor, boss, parent, or friend. Never walk out the door when they are trying to talk to you or solve a problem. Never point your finger at them or blame them when you have made a mistake. Never, ever
tell them everything you are thinking. Yes, they irritated you. Yes, you might like to say those things to them. However, there are consequences for telling someone off. A college professor is like your boss. They are grading you. It does not serve you to be rude to them. You may disagree. Do it tactfully. They may be wrong. Share your disagreement tactfully. If you are called on bad behavior after doing this, OWN what you did and take responsibility for it. Listen to what they have to say. You might actually learn something. Do not make excuses for what you did. There is no excuse for being rude.
As one person said, "We have too much of telling it like it is. Let's start telling it like the best it can be."
4) Whenever possible show gratitude and say please, thank you, and you're welcome.
Don't take for granted the kindness of others. The smallest "thank you!" shows you acknowledge the kindness another person has shown. It makes them want to do more. I teach 120 students a day.
Every day I bring food to my class. There is a special chair by the door that has oranges, apples, and even cookies on it. Most college students are starving. Many of my students are parents and sometimes have to choose between their children eating breakfast or having breakfast themselves. They always put their children first, so they come to class starving. Every morning at about 5:30 I am on my way to SCC and I go to my neighborhood Safeway to get snacks for my students. I even get teased by the cashiers about keeping Safeway in business. I am delighted to do this. I've felt led to do this. Yet honestly I am a bit discouraged to see how many students eat these goodies and never, ever say "thanks! " A whole day may go by, and every snack gone, and no one may have voiced a single thanks. I am not doing it for a huge thanks or a brass band. However, those who do say "Thanks, Linda" almost bring me to tears. It tells me they are grateful. It keeps me buying those oranges. The same goes for when someone writes you a letter of recommendation. Send a thank you card to them for taking the time to do this for you.
You might wonder why I am listing these "Old-Fashioned Life Lessons." I LOVE, really LOVE being a teacher. God made me to do this. I have loved doing this every day for the last 47 years. Yet last week I felt so discouraged that I was brought to tears. A student I cared about was, from my perspective, very aggressive with me. Someone complained that the oranges I brought were too small. Yes we have bad weather, yet many students came late and forgot to apologize. I was rudely told I was old-fashioned to expect a student to put their phone away while I was lecturing.
It wasn't everyone. Most of my students were their usual wonderful selves and no matter what, I wouldn't trade what I do for anything. Yet, I did have a moment of pause. I honestly felt a bit discouraged. I was stunned at being almost yelled at. I had to laugh at being called old-fashioned.
If there had been a "Retire Button" to press, I would have pressed it. I was praying and praying for patience. I was asking God to help me not take things personally. I was wondering if it was worth it to care so much about how my students treat each other and treat me. I pray for them every day. Every morning I put my hand on the outside of my classroom door and ask God to help me be His servant and help me to give each student love, care, attention and what He would have me give them.
Who knew some of what He would have me give them would be lessons in old-fashioned values.
My Grandma was an elementary teacher who lovingly sent back my thank you notes if they had a spelling error on them. I made the corrections and sent them back with a smile. My parents were sticklers for being on time and expressing gratitude. My Mom and Dad role-modeled being punctual
and polite. My 6th grade teacher, Miss Palace, drilled us on manners as much as she drilled us on the capitals of each state.
Today I am so, so grateful for all of that old-fashioned training. I am grateful that
high expectations were set for me. I'm not perfect, no one is, yet when we practice some of these old-fashioned values, it seems that life just gets better for everyone.
God Bless!
Love Linda
The day I would wonder what in heaven's name is this world coming to?
In the college classroom where I teach, I declare proudly that I have old-fashioned values. While I do not generalize about college students, because so many of them are exceptional human beings and courageous people, I do find that how I conduct my classroom seems to, at times, bring a few chuckles and shakes-of-the-head.
I actually spend a whole class hour at the beginning of the quarter, in every class, talking about my "Expectations" for how things will run in my classroom. Students also have a chance to share their expectations for me, their expectations for their fellow classmates, and their expectations for themselves.
I want all of us to be on the same page. It seems like I've talked and talked about this for years and years. Actually, I guess I have.
Amazingly, this is my 47th year of being a teacher, 37 of those years have been my beloved Spokane Community College. Yes, the culture has changed during that expanse of time. Cell phones are in. Text messaging rules the day. Formal hand-written letters are almost extinct in this college culture, yet my heart skips a beat and I almost get teary when I receive one, especially from one of my students.
Yet while many things have changed in a college setting, and I may NEVER get used to a few students coming to class in pajama bottoms, over the years my expectations have stayed quite the same.
Here are a few life-lessons, in my book, that never go out of style:
1) Be on time. Actually, whenever possible, be a little early: That goes for walking into a college classroom, church, a family dinner your Mother makes, a job interview, a coffee date, or a meeting with your college professor. Being on time shows that you respect the other person's time as much as your own. If you leave them waiting, and there wasn't an emergency or good reason to be late, you lose credibility about being a person who is trustworthy.
2) If you have to be late, try to call or email the person so they are not left wondering what happened to you. And if you come into a room late, apologize and acknowledge politely that you notice you have kept someone waiting. If you come into a college classroom late, quietly take your seat and quietly apologize for interrupting and distracting from what is going on. It never works well to be late, make a scene, throw down a book bag with a huge "THUMP!", give a sigh of resignation, and throw yourself into your desk. Or even worse, if there is a guest speaker, walk right in front of them to get to a desk across the room. Instead, take an available seat by the door so as to cause the least disturbance possible.
3) Never, and I repeat NEVER, yell at or raise your voice to your teacher, professor, boss, parent, or friend. Never walk out the door when they are trying to talk to you or solve a problem. Never point your finger at them or blame them when you have made a mistake. Never, ever
tell them everything you are thinking. Yes, they irritated you. Yes, you might like to say those things to them. However, there are consequences for telling someone off. A college professor is like your boss. They are grading you. It does not serve you to be rude to them. You may disagree. Do it tactfully. They may be wrong. Share your disagreement tactfully. If you are called on bad behavior after doing this, OWN what you did and take responsibility for it. Listen to what they have to say. You might actually learn something. Do not make excuses for what you did. There is no excuse for being rude.
As one person said, "We have too much of telling it like it is. Let's start telling it like the best it can be."
4) Whenever possible show gratitude and say please, thank you, and you're welcome.
Don't take for granted the kindness of others. The smallest "thank you!" shows you acknowledge the kindness another person has shown. It makes them want to do more. I teach 120 students a day.
Every day I bring food to my class. There is a special chair by the door that has oranges, apples, and even cookies on it. Most college students are starving. Many of my students are parents and sometimes have to choose between their children eating breakfast or having breakfast themselves. They always put their children first, so they come to class starving. Every morning at about 5:30 I am on my way to SCC and I go to my neighborhood Safeway to get snacks for my students. I even get teased by the cashiers about keeping Safeway in business. I am delighted to do this. I've felt led to do this. Yet honestly I am a bit discouraged to see how many students eat these goodies and never, ever say "thanks! " A whole day may go by, and every snack gone, and no one may have voiced a single thanks. I am not doing it for a huge thanks or a brass band. However, those who do say "Thanks, Linda" almost bring me to tears. It tells me they are grateful. It keeps me buying those oranges. The same goes for when someone writes you a letter of recommendation. Send a thank you card to them for taking the time to do this for you.
You might wonder why I am listing these "Old-Fashioned Life Lessons." I LOVE, really LOVE being a teacher. God made me to do this. I have loved doing this every day for the last 47 years. Yet last week I felt so discouraged that I was brought to tears. A student I cared about was, from my perspective, very aggressive with me. Someone complained that the oranges I brought were too small. Yes we have bad weather, yet many students came late and forgot to apologize. I was rudely told I was old-fashioned to expect a student to put their phone away while I was lecturing.
It wasn't everyone. Most of my students were their usual wonderful selves and no matter what, I wouldn't trade what I do for anything. Yet, I did have a moment of pause. I honestly felt a bit discouraged. I was stunned at being almost yelled at. I had to laugh at being called old-fashioned.
If there had been a "Retire Button" to press, I would have pressed it. I was praying and praying for patience. I was asking God to help me not take things personally. I was wondering if it was worth it to care so much about how my students treat each other and treat me. I pray for them every day. Every morning I put my hand on the outside of my classroom door and ask God to help me be His servant and help me to give each student love, care, attention and what He would have me give them.
Who knew some of what He would have me give them would be lessons in old-fashioned values.
My Grandma was an elementary teacher who lovingly sent back my thank you notes if they had a spelling error on them. I made the corrections and sent them back with a smile. My parents were sticklers for being on time and expressing gratitude. My Mom and Dad role-modeled being punctual
and polite. My 6th grade teacher, Miss Palace, drilled us on manners as much as she drilled us on the capitals of each state.
Today I am so, so grateful for all of that old-fashioned training. I am grateful that
high expectations were set for me. I'm not perfect, no one is, yet when we practice some of these old-fashioned values, it seems that life just gets better for everyone.
God Bless!
Love Linda
Tuesday, February 04, 2014
Celebrating My Birthday with a little bit of MOXIE :)
Moxie-
It's a street-smart spirit that's as old as
recorded history and as new as the rising sun.
David had it; Goliath didn't. It's that intangible
tangible. You don't learn it in school and
you can't get it from a book. It can jump
oceans and move mountains. It says,
"Make your life what it can be. Take your
life wherever it can go."
-Kobe Yamada
Years ago I remember my Nana exclaiming about a friend of hers who had
"MOXIE." I was little at the time and while I wasn't sure exactly what "moxie"
meant, I could tell by the way my Grandma said the word that it was full of "vim and vigor," also her words.
It was her friend's birthday and Nana had paid her a supreme compliment by telling her
she had MOXIE. What was "MOXIE"?
Spirit! Perseverance! An over-the-top love of life!
Energy! Full of fun! Optimistic! Courage! An"I Won't give up!"attitude! Being an Overcomer!
Her friend, I remember, had just turned sixty seven. I couldn't possibly
imagine how old that must be, yet if my Grandma's friend could have MOXIE at that age...
I felt there there was hope for all of us.
Tomorrow, February 5th, amazingly, I turn 67 and today, in a de-ja-vu moment, one of my dear friends at the college where I teach laughingly told me I had "MOXIE!" Colleen looked just like my Nana when she said the word; ear-splitting grin, fun spilling out of her with joyous laughter. She then shared with me a Kobe Yamada saying that "reminded her of me":
"At times it is necessary to go
over the top
How else can we get to the
other side."
-Kobe Yamada
She thanked me for "spilling over in spirit", not being afraid to be over the top, and sharing that spirit with her.
How could I not?
I have always loved life. That's how God made me. I was blessed to be loved and cherished and it is a blessing for me to give back to those who matter so much to me. I feel like every day I have been given is such a gift and every hard-fought lesson a chance to grow. I feel like we are all God's one-of-a kind creation and He made us to shine.
One of my very, very favorite songs growing up was "I'm Going To Let My Little Light Shine!" What a perfect song to set the tone for my 67th year!
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket. No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket, No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket? No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine!
So today, I find I am so grateful as I reach 67...
I am so, so grateful for my "role models" for having "Moxie." Just a few of these include: Dolores McColm, my Mom, Amy Farrell and Jessi Thompson, my daughters, my husband, Bert, my friends Linny Clark, Sharon Hartnett, Vicky Westra, Peggy Sue, Eileen Thompson, Roberta Greene, and Sarah. My grand daughters Sihin, Emma and Jenna, my grandsons Jacob and Owen. Each of these angels has been an overcomer, a light-shiner, a gratitude-seeker, a courage-maker, an optimism-seeker and they have let their "little light shine" into my life. They have battled everything from the suicide of a parent, very difficult childhoods full of trauma, prejudice, horrible car accidents, people who are alcoholics, and stage four breast cancer to stuttering, having a hard time finding words, having friends betray them, leaving Ethiopia and coming to Spokane, and brain injury. When I see them, I am overcome with their courage, stamina, and perseverance against great odds.
And I am so, so grateful to God that He made me with "moxie" too. I am so grateful to be
surrounded by those who love me. I am so grateful for my beloved husband and my precious children and grandchildren. I cannot imagine my life without them. They bring absolute JOY into every day! I am so grateful for dear friends who love me, just as I am. I am so grateful for every mistake I have made and every hard season that has challenged my soul. They have taught be to be courageous, lean on Jesus, and not to give up. I am so grateful that I was born with one large hand and one small hand. I have learned empathy for those who are different. I am so grateful for all of my wonderful and courageous students and consulting clients. Working with them nourishes my soul. I am so grateful for my Church and all who worship there. I am so grateful for every song we sing on Sundays that reminds me that Jesus is my Savior. I am so grateful that I cry easily and that people know my true heart. I am so grateful that I have a spirit that loves to celebrate EVERYTHING...holidays and people's victories, even the smallest ones. I am so grateful that I had parents who taught me that if I worked hard and never gave up, I could achieve my dreams. I am so grateful for every day I have spent in a classroom doing the thing God gave me a gift to do, be a teacher. I believe it is a sacred profession, and I have loved everyday of the last 47 years of going to work. I am so grateful that I love bright colors, flowers, and balloons and have the nickname of being "the balloon queen."
I am so grateful to be 67 and to know I am God's child and that I am dearly loved and adored!
I am so grateful for this blog and having the opportunity to record my life-lessons.
Perhaps one day one of my children or grandchildren, or even the folks who read this from time-to time, will find something here that enriches their lives or know they mattered to me. I am so grateful for every comment that is left here as it feels like a connection to another human being.
So...at 67...I will let my little light shine!
May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand!
Love, Linda
It's a street-smart spirit that's as old as
recorded history and as new as the rising sun.
David had it; Goliath didn't. It's that intangible
tangible. You don't learn it in school and
you can't get it from a book. It can jump
oceans and move mountains. It says,
"Make your life what it can be. Take your
life wherever it can go."
-Kobe Yamada
Years ago I remember my Nana exclaiming about a friend of hers who had
"MOXIE." I was little at the time and while I wasn't sure exactly what "moxie"
meant, I could tell by the way my Grandma said the word that it was full of "vim and vigor," also her words.
It was her friend's birthday and Nana had paid her a supreme compliment by telling her
she had MOXIE. What was "MOXIE"?
Spirit! Perseverance! An over-the-top love of life!
Energy! Full of fun! Optimistic! Courage! An"I Won't give up!"attitude! Being an Overcomer!
Her friend, I remember, had just turned sixty seven. I couldn't possibly
imagine how old that must be, yet if my Grandma's friend could have MOXIE at that age...
I felt there there was hope for all of us.
Tomorrow, February 5th, amazingly, I turn 67 and today, in a de-ja-vu moment, one of my dear friends at the college where I teach laughingly told me I had "MOXIE!" Colleen looked just like my Nana when she said the word; ear-splitting grin, fun spilling out of her with joyous laughter. She then shared with me a Kobe Yamada saying that "reminded her of me":
"At times it is necessary to go
over the top
How else can we get to the
other side."
-Kobe Yamada
She thanked me for "spilling over in spirit", not being afraid to be over the top, and sharing that spirit with her.
How could I not?
I have always loved life. That's how God made me. I was blessed to be loved and cherished and it is a blessing for me to give back to those who matter so much to me. I feel like every day I have been given is such a gift and every hard-fought lesson a chance to grow. I feel like we are all God's one-of-a kind creation and He made us to shine.
One of my very, very favorite songs growing up was "I'm Going To Let My Little Light Shine!" What a perfect song to set the tone for my 67th year!
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket. No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket, No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket? No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine!
So today, I find I am so grateful as I reach 67...
I am so, so grateful for my "role models" for having "Moxie." Just a few of these include: Dolores McColm, my Mom, Amy Farrell and Jessi Thompson, my daughters, my husband, Bert, my friends Linny Clark, Sharon Hartnett, Vicky Westra, Peggy Sue, Eileen Thompson, Roberta Greene, and Sarah. My grand daughters Sihin, Emma and Jenna, my grandsons Jacob and Owen. Each of these angels has been an overcomer, a light-shiner, a gratitude-seeker, a courage-maker, an optimism-seeker and they have let their "little light shine" into my life. They have battled everything from the suicide of a parent, very difficult childhoods full of trauma, prejudice, horrible car accidents, people who are alcoholics, and stage four breast cancer to stuttering, having a hard time finding words, having friends betray them, leaving Ethiopia and coming to Spokane, and brain injury. When I see them, I am overcome with their courage, stamina, and perseverance against great odds.
And I am so, so grateful to God that He made me with "moxie" too. I am so grateful to be
surrounded by those who love me. I am so grateful for my beloved husband and my precious children and grandchildren. I cannot imagine my life without them. They bring absolute JOY into every day! I am so grateful for dear friends who love me, just as I am. I am so grateful for every mistake I have made and every hard season that has challenged my soul. They have taught be to be courageous, lean on Jesus, and not to give up. I am so grateful that I was born with one large hand and one small hand. I have learned empathy for those who are different. I am so grateful for all of my wonderful and courageous students and consulting clients. Working with them nourishes my soul. I am so grateful for my Church and all who worship there. I am so grateful for every song we sing on Sundays that reminds me that Jesus is my Savior. I am so grateful that I cry easily and that people know my true heart. I am so grateful that I have a spirit that loves to celebrate EVERYTHING...holidays and people's victories, even the smallest ones. I am so grateful that I had parents who taught me that if I worked hard and never gave up, I could achieve my dreams. I am so grateful for every day I have spent in a classroom doing the thing God gave me a gift to do, be a teacher. I believe it is a sacred profession, and I have loved everyday of the last 47 years of going to work. I am so grateful that I love bright colors, flowers, and balloons and have the nickname of being "the balloon queen."
I am so grateful to be 67 and to know I am God's child and that I am dearly loved and adored!
I am so grateful for this blog and having the opportunity to record my life-lessons.
Perhaps one day one of my children or grandchildren, or even the folks who read this from time-to time, will find something here that enriches their lives or know they mattered to me. I am so grateful for every comment that is left here as it feels like a connection to another human being.
So...at 67...I will let my little light shine!
May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand!
Love, Linda
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