Remember First Grade?

Remember first grade? I do.

One bright sunny September morning, I crawled into the front seat of our burnt orange and white automobile. My life stood on the brink of change. The much-anticipated first day of first grade finally arrived. 

I wore a new pink dress with a small black velvet bow attached to the collar, as I clutched a plaid book satchel of primary colors by at my side. Inside the bag, the contents represented a list for all first graders: an oversized wooden pencil and a large writing tablet. I attempted a grin, but truthfully, jitters danced in my stomach. For this timid, only child, the day held countless unknowns.

My Mother and I drove together the eighteen miles to a two story, austere red brick building, and parked on the curb out front. I didn’t think much about my Mother that day, except to notice she wore stilettos and looked especially pretty.

As I held tightly to my Mother’s hand, we entered doors that changed both her world and mine.

From First Grade:                                                                                                                               I remember Miss Boyce, my teacher

I remember not being placed in the accelerated reading group

I remember taking naps on the floor after lunch

I remember being confused by math (arithmetic, it was)

I remember getting paddled in the coatroom for talking too much

I remember our program for parents when I sang a duet

I remember Sally, Dick, Jane, Puff and Spot, who became my beloved companions

I remember The Kiddie Band and being disappointed with my assigned instrument, the triangle

I remember overwhelming relief to open my end of year report card and discover my promotion 

After first grade, I tucked the memories away and left them behind. Until - one day on the sidewalk outside the American School of Warsaw in Warsaw, Poland - my memories of first grade unsuspectingly returned.

Now, I was the Mother, and the hand I held was that of my own little girl. She wore a new pink dress with smocking, and she carried a carefully selected book bag. I will forever feel the clutch of her little hand nestled in mine as we stood together and quietly considered our next move. 

With one unplanned squeeze from her little hand, she and I stepped forward and entered doors that changed both her world and mine. Why of course, I remember first grade.

Living with Eternal Intentionality: When you see a mom holding a child’s hand and entering the doors of a school, I suggest you pause, pray, and smile to remember your own first grade.

Forgive? No Way

Every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea until they have something to forgive. C.S. Lewis

I found myself sitting beside a stranger on an airplane; however, our commonality in Christ provided instant connectivity. Beverages and pretzels came and went as our conversation continued. God’s incredible work in and through this individual and his church amazed me.

Sadly, though, the longer gentleman talked, the more a different storyline emerged. His focus shifted from God to people, and his attitude and tone became altered. His jaw tightened and his joy faded. Subtly, a shadow crept across his face; lines of hardness formed, and his radiant glow gave way to cloudiness.

Unforgiveness now stood as master over his once godly relationships. My seatmate felt wronged, and found himself unable to move forward. Simple miscommunications led to greater misunderstandings, which led to serious mistrust, which led to his service being marginalized.

I ached with this individual. How could this possibly happen? Emotional and spiritual agony controlled his very being. Where would his journey end? Furthermore, can you and I see ourselves mirrored in his situation?

Unforgiveness sits viciously on the sideline of our relationships, always waiting to jump in and sabotage.

Miscommunication or unfulfilled expectations are the common causes.

The paradox:                                                                                                                      Forgiveness operates at the core of our Christian faith - in our relationship with Christ, and in our eternal destiny. Somehow, though, forgiveness often fails to permeate our temporal human relationships. What you and I relish with Jesus, we readily withhold from others.

Disconnect exists between our belief and our behavior.

The patterns:                                                                                                                          Unforgiveness spans the globe, and is no respecter of persons, countries, cultures, ages, or genders. Unforgiveness is always painful, ugly, and destructive.                                                             Unforgiveness eats away at our soul. (I think of the open market in Thailand where people place their feet into a deep glass aquarium and allow fish to eat off the dead skin. Disgusting.)             Unforgiveness always seeps out like a broken septic tank - it refuses to be contained.                             Unforgiveness targets relationships with people we love and work alongside.

For you, for me, for my seatmate, there is no middle ground. Either I forgive or I do not forgive. A holding pattern does not exist.

The pivot:                                                                                                                                  Forgiveness is always the right option.                                                                                         Forgiveness is essential to a joyful, peaceful life.                                                                               Forgiveness is a choice, a decision of the will. I rarely recall feeling my way to forgiveness. (Feelings may or may not cooperate.)                                                                                                       Forgiveness rests on Jesus and moves forward with R.E.L.E.A.S.E.  

So please:                                                                                                                                         Before God, on your knees in the privacy of your own closet, declare the person and the matter released. If it helps, lift your open hands up to heaven and let it go. I came to set the prisoner free and suddenly discovered the prisoner was me.

Living with Eternal Intentionality: Do you stand at the crossroads in a relationship that needs the action of forgiveness? Travel light my pilgrim friend, and release the baggage with the decision to forgive.

The Sacred Space of Grandmothering

Earlier, I shared a blog post titled Why I love Being a Grandmother. Since then, after more musings, I have added to the list. Please join me as I consider further the sacred space of grandmothering.

Revisit the Fun:

In being a Grandmother, one gets to revisit the delightful places of childhood – the places that pass by much too quickly with one's own children the first time around. The games (endless hours of Monopoly), the toys (Madame Alexander Dolls with plenty of life left within them), the Legos, and the books – oh the books! Dr. Seuss and Richard Scary still bring giggles, not to mention the intrigue of audiobook books like The Tale of Peter Rabbit with that rascal of a rabbit and his timeless shenanigans.

Release the Seriousness:

"Gammy, I really have to tell you something. Your caramel cake is just not good. It needs some work." (She is right.)

Yes indeed; you may certainly order the large size milkshake instead of the small size.

Wade in the stream? Sure thing! Just remove your shoes so we don’t get in trouble with Mom.

Relive the Memories:

When I was a little girl….

How many times am I tempted to go there? Guarding against overdose, I do love to share my personal story with them.

For instance,

When I was a little girl, Great Gammy French braided my hair, too.

When I was a little girl, I took ballet and tap lessons, just like you.

When I was a little girl, we had no seatbelts; now buckle yourself in.

When I was a little girl, my favorite food to order in a restaurant was a grilled cheese sandwich. 

When I was a little girl, we did not go to the doctor's office for our immunizations. The nurse came to school and gave them to us. One time I had a reaction, and my Mother came to class and took me home.

Reset the Priorities:

It is bedtime, but let’s go outside and catch fireflies!

Yes, you have permission to read for a little bit longer.

Relax the Rules:

Why of course, you can have brownies for breakfast; why not?

Or

Choose what you would like for lunch; do you want mac and cheese or do you want cereal? Cereal? Then cereal it will be.

Relish the joy of God’s grace:

The sacred space of grandparenting highlights God’s amazing demonstration of His grace - His pure unmerited favor. In the pursuit of parenting, none of us gets it just right the first time around. To be given another go is splendid. Do you agree?

Living with Eternal Intentionality: I want to learn from you. What do you love about being a grandparent? (Or what did you love about your own grandparent?)