The Crease

 The Crease

I have no idea why but this entry is in the top 5 of number of views of every blog I've ever written! It's from October 4, 2016.

Madison is one of my favorites ever. A junior now, she played basketball for me in middle school, a career which began with my recruiting her out of a PE class. She's an excellent student to go along with her athletic endeavors on the varsity level in basketball and volleyball. Last Friday, we took Test #4 in my three sections of Gospels. I'm pretty sure she made a 99% but I don't have her grade in front of me. This isn't about her A on the exam. Madison made another impression on me during that testing process but not in the way you might imagine.

We don't have seating charts typically in my classes unless dictated by chattiness. Madison sits front and center, right where you expect superior students to park themselves. But when I handed Madison her blank test four days ago, she made an odd request: she asked for a different test. Of course, I asked why and her reply caught me off guard:
"Because this one has a crease in it."
Sure enough, it did at the bottom right corner, apparently being marred in this way when being picked up from our print office. I thought she was joking- she wasn't. I acquiesced and gave her a second one, while kidding her about the swap. It didn't distract her to the extent of hurting her average. It's stayed on my mind so this afternoon, I asked Jean, my senior teacher's aide who aced the same class last year if it would bother her.
"Of course!"
Why?
"It has a crease in it!"
Just to make sure, I asked the young ladies in my eighth period, eighth grade Bible class this afternoon. Unanimous agreement with the lovely Madison. It wasn't the first time I've been outvoted by the fairer gender and I'm sure it won't be the last. I've quit arguing and just accepted the inevitable. Life's easier that way.

Isn't it funny how we all have small annoyances that baffle other people, or in this case, the opposite sex. We all have them, regardless of party affiliation or ethnicity or age or occupation or gender. My little thing might be your big thing. Ironically, our quiz today in Gospels from Luke 6 covered Jesus' illustration of the speck and the plank in the eyes. Your speck, I'm convinced, is often my plank and vice versa. Typically, it's unimportant to one of us, like the slight fold in the paper is to me. Making big things out of nothing only leads to trouble and sometimes, heartache. We know people like that. Sometimes, we are people like that. Let it go. Usually, it's not worth the paper it was written on or the fight that may ensue. I give in. You win, Madison!

Applicable quote of the day:
It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.
 Arthur Conan Doyle

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Morning In May

Morning In May

This past  March 31 marked the fifteenth anniversary of the death of my mother, a saintly woman to the day of her passing, even if it was not in her cognitive senses anymore. People have said Dave and Scott were more like Dad and I'm more like Mom. I couldn't go wrong either way but our mother was one of a kind. She did not know us the last years of her life but it never robbed her of her dignity. I wrote this on May 13, 2007.

It was one of the most beautiful songs of the rock and roll era but I remember it for the wrong reasons. Penned by Dave Loggins and recorded by the rock group, Three Dog Night, Pieces Of April spoke of love in retrospect after gently blossoming into the more mature stage of the relationship. Unfortunately, in one of the less heroic moments of my earlier years, I used the chorus lyrics to explain to an incredibly sweet and wonderful girl why it was all over from my not quite ready to commit to anything perspective:
"I've got pieces of April
I keep 'em in a memory bouquet
I've got pieces of April
But it's a morning in May."
I guess the point I was trying to make was that although we got off to a terrific start, reality in the form of our moving away from each other mandated our separate directions in love as well. You've heard guys using the you're too good for me line? It was breathtakingly accurate in my case. I immediately felt guilty, especially delivering the message in a letter instead of face-to-face. And in the process, I ruined a song I really liked.

Messing around with YouTube recently, I typed in the song title with the chance I might hear it again since it never plays on the radio. Sure enough, it popped up but with a twist. It was coupled with film clips from the movie The Notebook which seems to be some sort of women's romance film. A husband reads to his Alzheimer's suffering wife from a love story she had written down. Set in a nursing home, the elderly couple.....Wait, I don't want to spoil the ending I discovered in Wikipedia if you haven't seen it! Anyway, the linking of the movie and the song reminded me of where my folks are in life. Dad can live in both the present and the past while we aren't sure where Mom's memories are cast. Today is Mother's Day. This May morning at the end of worship service, I helped pass out long stem carnations to all the mothers in the congregation. I wish I could have handed one to my mom. I also wish she could comprehend that today is a special day for her and all the other women the Lord selected as mothers to the human race. A few minutes ago, I spoke to Mom on the phone and heard her whisper a very faint, "I love you" to her second born son. It became the latest flower in my memory bouquet. In Proverbs 31, the children of the noble woman described in detail call her blessed. That's my mother but she doesn't understand anymore when I tell her. Maybe Dad can read this to her just like in the movie. I love you, Mom.

Applicable quote of the day:

"There is no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one."

Jill Churchill

God bless,

Steve, son of Nelda Chesshir Hawley

Luke 18:1

The Jewel

 

The Jewel

 

Eight Christmases ago, I wrote a blog about Jenson and how she was concerned she got more presents than Baby Jesus got from the wise men. This is about her earlier life, from  2012.

I held Jenson for the first time today. As soon as I walked into Dave and Sally's house this morning, she was thrust into my arms and remained peacefully for thirty minutes. Jenson, the four month old first child of Ben and Courtney, is my great niece. She is good natured, blue eyed, and I am delighted to be genetically linked to this little angel. And according to the word on the street, Jenson smells incredibly good. As I held her, I thought about the last hymn in our church song book when I was little, # 600 in Great Songs Of The Church: 

When He cometh, when He cometh
To make up His jewels,
All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

(Refrain)
Like the stars of the morning,
His brightness adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.

He will gather, He will gather
The gems for His kingdom;
All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own.

Little children, little children,
Who love their Redeemer,
Are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

When He Cometh was written by William Cushing, a Disciples of Christ minister, in 1856. Cushing penned it for the children in his congregation
and he perfectly describes the youngest among us as precious  jewels. That's as close to a flawless definition as there can be about Jenson, who is named in honor of Courtney's family. She's a blessed baby. Jenson is descended from families who honor marriage and most importantly, who honor God. She will be raised with stability and an overwhelming blanket of love. Jenson will grow up to be a servant to humanity and a child of the king because that is what she will be taught every day of her life. What a Thanksgiving blessing Jenson is for her parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles/cousins this November. I grieve for those babies who will never glimpse the wonderful life she will lead. 

Applicable quote of the day:
"This is a place where grandmothers hold babies on their laps under the stars and whisper in their ears that the lights in the sky are holes in the floor of heaven.”
Rick Bragg



God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Stranger I Knew

 The Stranger I Knew

I hate messing up identities, especially of former students! This is from October 7, 2016.

I met Hiep several years ago. Like me, he works out at Chancellor's Family Center. Hiep heard I go to Vietnam in the summers and that interested him as he is from that country. He gave me a standing invitation to go out to eat Vietnamese food so he can practice his English. I'm pretty busy but we have gone out for supper three or four times. There have been two missteps where the times and dates were mixed up due to language difficulties but we survived. Last night was actually supposed to have been two weeks ago but our wires were crossed. Hiep, who is seventy-six, was very apologetic. He's lived quite a life. Back in Vietnam, he was in the army as well as teaching school and working as a mechanic. He met his wife while driving a truck route for his dad. They moved to the US close to forty years ago where they've raised three highly successful daughters. Amazing what you can learn when you simply take the time to talk to someone.

Hiep decided yesterday that we would eat at a well-known Chinese buffet. It took almost a half hour to get there with the 6 PM going home from work traffic. We walked in and were greeted by a young hostess who took us to our table. As we sat down, she asked if I taught at Westbury Christian School. It was pretty obvious that I did, wearing a WCS t-shirt, but it was also obvious that she knew me. She told me she graduated from our school in 2014. I was embarrassed but I asked her name. It was Anh. I should have known but then again, there was no way I should have known. Last night, she was dressed in the uniform of a hostess and I had only known her in her school uniform. Plus, she was wearing glasses and her hair was pulled up, two looks I had never seen with her as a student. As I was filling my plate in the buffet line, I walked over to Anh's station and apologized for not recognizing her. She was so gracious and completely understood. We caught up a little bit and found out she was in her hometown of Saigon in June while I passed through there twice later in the summer. When the waitress brought the check, we found out Anh had arranged for a 20% reduction on my meal with a teacher's discount which I know made Hiep happy as he was paying. We waved goodbye as Hiep and I left the place. I hope our paths cross again- I won't make the same mistake twice.

I've been mistaken for other people before but rarely have I been mistaken for a stranger. Looks change with time but it's been less than three years since I've seen Anh. I'm sure if she was dressed back in her school uniform I would have had no trouble. But that may be the point. We don't stay put. We aren't the same in every situation. I'm sure Anh wants to have more depth to her than being a high school girl all her life. I'll never forget the line in the Waylon Jennings' song, Amanda:
I got my first guitar when I was fourteen,
Well I finally made forty, still wearing jeans.
You know, it's simply life to change as we get older: attitudes, interests, clothes, goals. We have to give people room to grow. A test question today for my eighth graders was this:
People would have thought John the Baptist was odd.
The correct answer, of course, is true. He lived in the wilderness and ate bugs while wearing camel hair and a belt made from leather. I tell my kids John would never get a preaching job today on appearance alone. But do you know what he did? With a sign from God, he recognized Jesus was the Christ and announced it to the world. Would John have evolved in his wardrobe if he had not angered Herod and his wife and died in his early thirties? Who knows? But even John's identity was a source of consternation to the religious leaders who questioned if he was the Messiah or Elijah or the Prophet. He denied it all and quoting Isaiah, simply claimed to be the voice crying out in the wilderness. He wasn't who some wanted him to be but he was who he was called to be. And Anh is simply Anh, even though it took some help for me to comprehend. We all want others to know who we are, even when we are dressed up for work. If she had been only wearing a name tag!


Applicable quote of the day:
Sometimes you have to get to know someone really well to realize you're really strangers. 
Mary Tyler Moore

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

I'm Sorry!

 I'm Sorry!

This is about a struggle one of my favorite teams ever had. It's from December 9, 2012.
Several nights ago, I wrote about how much I love the bunch of girls who make up my middle school basketball team this year. That does not mean we have no issues. In fact, I stopped practice on Wednesday because of two words which kept being repeated on the court:
"Sorry, Coach!"
At least five of the ten girls on our team have the tendency to utter those two words each time they miss a shot in a layup drill or dribble the ball off their foot  or have a pass skip off their hands. It was almost like this:
"Sorry, Coach!"
"Sorry, Coach!"
"Sorry, Coach!"
We huddled up and I explained that we don't have to apologize every time we make a mistake, that the nature of sports is that we will mess up. One of the things I appreciate so much about this group is that they do try to do the right thing but maturing as athletes means they have to get to the point where they can shake stuff off. We aren't quite there yet. But, you know you are a blessed coach when the biggest headache is kids trying to be too perfect!

All of us know adults who live their lives like my girls go through practice, in a constant state of apology. But when the byproduct is a life of non-stop guilt, the stakes are raised. I told my high school classes on Wednesday about practice and offered my opinion that it is often very easy to make girls feel guilty and use that guilt as a way to control them. Many of both genders voted in the affirmative when I asked for a show of hands on how many of the believe their mothers try make them feel guilty. (It doesn't bother boys nearly as much.) When I started coaching girls, I probably used guilt, either intentionally or unintentionally, as a coaching tactic to get the young ladies to play better. In the long run, though, it doesn't make your jump shot more accurate or your weak hand stronger. It just deflates you. Satan uses guilt very effectively on us, doesn't he? And we are guilty in that we all sin. But, what relief for the believer to turn to Romans 8 and verse 1:
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus
I love those two words in the middle of that verse! We are saved by His blood and if we continue walking in the light, continually cleansed by that same blood. We repent, we praise the Lord, and we don't wallow in shame twenty-four hours a day. And we don't have to say "Sorry, Coach!" every time we shoot a left handed layup with our right hand!

Applicable quote of the day:

“Sorry is hardest to say when it matters most.”
 Ebehi Iyoha 

To hear the song tonight's title was taken from, one of the most depressing ballads ever, click below!



God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

Blind Faith

 

Blind Faith

This is from September 12, 2016.
As I do each year during my mission to Can Tho, Vietnam, I took a trip down to the tourist section by the river to buy some souvenirs. I have my order down; ties, change purses, and post cards for the folks who help finance my trip. Hai, the preacher, negotiates at a tiny shop inside a small market area. They know me- I come back each summer and make significant purchases, especially the ties which are silk, only three dollars, and come with a matching box-cuff links-handkerchief! This year, Hai's brother, Hiep, and Thien, a young lady in the church, went with us. As we entered the shopping area, I saw the man in the picture above. Obviously blind, he also was obviously selling lottery tickets. I asked Hiep to ask the gentleman's permission to take his picture which he graciously gave. It's one of my favorites of the four week trip this past July.

In Can Tho, you see lottery tickets sellers everywhere. Coming in all ages, some apparently only five or six, and both genders, they have one thing in common; they all appear to be very poor. I asked Hiep what keeps people from cheating the blind seller when they paid. Hiep said the man can tell what the bill is by the feel! I am by no means a lottery proponent but you have to love the resolve of the gentleman. I don't know why or how long this man has been blind. Maybe he was born that way. Jesus healed a man born blind and an uproar erupted over him who could now see. Jesus told His disciples in John 9:3 that, "this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him." Maybe the lottery guy made some foolish choices to cause his loss of vision- that's what happened with Samson! Or maybe it was a disease, like diabetes, which brought on his condition. I don't have a clue but I do know this: he wasn't sitting around feeling sorry for himself. 

When I was a boy, some college friends of my parents visited us in Nebraska. In the intervening years, the man had lost his sight. At supper, Dad, as only our dad would, asked him what it was like to be blind. I don't recall the brother in Christ's word for word response but it was along the lines that it was the best thing to ever to happen to him. Maybe doors opened that would have been closed. Maybe he was able to reach those who seeing people could not. Maybe it made him appreciate his other gifts more! But he praised God for what the world sees as a disability. Without an exam, I knew one thing- his vision of faith was 20-20. I wish I had that kind of sight. And unlike the lottery, it's not left up to chance.

Applicable quote of the day:
"Self-interest makes some people blind, and others sharp-sighted."
Francois de La Rochefoucauld

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

The Circle

The Circle

The longer I live, the more I realize how blessed I have been. This is from July 6, 2009.

(The picture is me eulogizing Dad at his graveside service in Arkansas on April 19, 2008. Photo courtesy of my cousin, Marsha.)

According to mapquest, it is exactly 368.4 miles from my apartment to the center of Nashville, Arkansas. But miles don't do it justice. How do you measure the distance to another world? As we gathered on my mother's birthplace- and that of her two sisters and brother- it all came back. Chesshir family reunions transport me to childhood and my siblings and cousins share the journey to my best little boy memories. My Aunt Jerry and Uncle Jack, who graciously host the bi-annual event, have built three lodgings on the farm where my mom was born and grew up. A number of us gathered there over the Fourth of July weekend and had a wonderful time. There was food and fishing, fireworks and fellowship, the ingredients of any perfect reunion. I can't wait for the next one.

My schedule is more flexible than many of my relatives so I was the first to arrive on Thursday afternoon. After supper, Uncle Jack, Aunt Jerry, and I headed to the New Corinth Cemetery to see Mom and Dad's grave. I asked about the older section of the cemetery so Uncle Jack drove across the road and we took a walking tour of the original plot. Some of the gravestones are dated in the Civil War era. As we strolled through the graveyard, which I had never visited, Uncle Jack told me something about almost every person buried there, the majority of whom are my kinfolks. Talking to Uncle Jack, who has done an extensive genealogy on my mother's family, was like reading a history book. I've heard most of the names but I can't really place who fits into what piece of the puzzle that is me. Some day, if the Lord does not come back first, I'll claim my spot in that resting place. I hope our family is raising up another Uncle Jack who reminds us of those who made it possible for us to be alive. Take out a link in the chain and there is no Steve. The writer of Hebrews reminds us in chapter 11 of those men and women who went before us as great examples of faith. They were imperfect but they are remembered for their trust in the Lord. The perfect epitaph for these men and women, who were almost all directly related to each other, is penned in Hebrews 11, verse 38: 'the world was not worthy of them.' Maybe someone might feel that's an appropriate engraving on the headstones for this generation of my family, or yours. The story is being written now. Time will tell.

Applicable quote of the day:
"If you don't believe in ghosts, you've never been to a family reunion."

Ashleigh Brilliant

The best reunion song ever is the classic Carter Family tune, Will The Circle Be Unbroken? Click here to listen to a terrific rendition by June and Johnny Cash and family.

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1