Come With Me

There are three separate little stories I would like to share to illustrate various truths which have occurred to me.  I will begin with little Nessie and how she needed to use the bathroom during Art class.  She was given permission to go, but when she entered the hall, she found that it was filled with 4th graders and these giants, she reported, would not allow her to pass through to reach the girls' room.  I took her by the hand and said, "Nessie, come with me, I will get you to the bathroom."
Taking my hand, she proudly strutted through the big kids and I released her into the restroom.
Walking back to Art, I was reminded that we can walk through giants, as long as we are holding The Capable Hand.

Story #2:  Mr. Red Shirt from way back in September was acting out a little by snipping paper into confetti.  Making a mess around his desk and then leaving for Resource room.  When he arrived back after his class outside of my classroom, I took him by the arm and pointed out to him the semi-shambles of papyrus he had left. I handed him the little pan and brush and he struggled momentarily to collect the snippets.  When I saw he had difficulty, I took the pan and brush and sat next to him and said, "My friend, is it not difficult to be a janitor?  Mrs. Diehm finds it difficult to work with the pan and brush, too.  I don't like it, I don't like to clean up floors one, single bit."  Paulie seemed to understand.  I continued, "Paulie, could you kindly do me a favor and help me not to have to be a janitor while in the classroom?  Would you please be sure not to cut up the paper like that, just cut out what you need to and leave your area neat?"  He replied in the affirmative.

Next day, he cut out a butterfly, leaving only one large scrap, the outline of that butterfly.

Requests are better followed when they have good reason to be so.

Story number three - It happens to again be about Paulie.  Paulie entered the classroom in quite the cranky mood.  Turns out he had missed the bus and his morning routine was just overturned.  There was no choice but to be angry, frustrated, impatient with his classmates and teachers.  I was not going to let this go, I love this little kid and want his school experience to be joyful and peaceful and purposeful.  So, I told him this true story which happened to me when I was a kid.  I had not known why this situation had to occur to me, but it was now cool that such a seemingly unnecessary event in my childhood would come in handy to help out a very unhappy little boy.

I told Paulie how I had a new dress to wear to school and how my sister had bought herself a new pair of shoes.  It made sense to me that I wear the new shoes with the new dress even though I had not secured permission to do so.  I put the new heels on and while I was walking onto the porch to walk across the street to catch my bus, my sister exits the house quite excitedly, grabs the back of my dress and announces that I must take off her shoes!  In this moment of chaos, as I was on my way to school, my new dress ripped and I had to go back into the house, hand over her shoes and take off my ruined dress.  I missed the bus.

I pointed out to Paulie that his clothes were not ripped and that he had on the shoes he wanted to be wearing.  I want to say he became exuberant at that point, but reality is that he became slightly satisfied and within the next 30 minutes he was back to himself.  The scripture which comes to mind is "God works all things together for good..."

I now understand why I had to go through that missing-the-bus experience so many years ago.

"I've Lost Everything!"

The best material for blogging can be found in the midst of my daily, everyday classroom setting if my ears stay opened and my heart remains soft.  Such was my experience this past Monday.

Believe it or not, "my" six and seven year olds authored a "how to make your favorite snack" writing piece.  After many drafts, much shared inspiration to keep them on track, I am able to write the "how to motivate little kids who would rather play than write" playbook.  And along the way, I learned how to make a really mean strawberry soda, and saw how many children find chocolate milk just rockets them to experiencing Candy Land in the flesh.

One little boy can surely talk up a storm, but when it comes to buckling down to work, well, let's just say we can only hope for the best.  I have written a little "motor, motor" and taped it on his desk which is his reminder to keep the work going...  Anyway, his writing piece was nearing completion and now he would be able to enter his work into a word frame on a laptop.  These kids finger pick along and Mr. (not) Motor Motor was very much being left in the dust compared to the pace of the class.  He had, however, successfully gotten at least the title, his name and a sentence on his page.  Suddenly, Mr. Motor Motor comes fast stepping toward me very distressed and said, "Mrs. Diehm, I've lost everything!!"

Quickly putting on my emergency-mode hat, I knelt down, embraced him and assured him I could get everything back for him, that nothing had really been lost.  No tears, he breathed and yes, even managed to smile.

What struck me is that there are times when we think we have lost it all - our joy, our security, our connections.  That is never, ever so.  It is our immature soul at work to make us just quit.  Praise the Lord Almighty, we have Him to run to, and He makes all things new...

Barbie Hair

I had an awakening of sorts about myself that is a bit on the personal side.  I care about how people perceive me.  Not that I think I stand alone in this mindset, but I think that the grip this trait has on me is a bit tight.  I like myself and I want others to like me, too, and to consider me valuable.  I value others, take an honest look at them, realize we have all been crafted uniquely to serve in the Kingdom of God.  Most people appear very pretty to me.  But when I take apart my physical appearance, I sometimes struggle with how the years are beginning to show and how those ten pounds I do not want hanging around, continue to stay an unwelcome guest.

I admire thick hair.  Always have.  Mine is quite the opposite but I have managed to accept it and sometimes even appreciate it.

One particular day in the classroom when I had not had time to "set" my hair in the morning, a little princess with beautiful thick hair looked at me, smiled and said,  "Ms. Diehm, you have Barbie hair."

Beauty shall continue to live on in the eyes of the beholder.

Tootsies

This winter, though not freezing cold for days and weeks at a time, I have had my share of colds.  I blame the "new" germs.  Germs found on the shoelaces of first graders, germs found on the pencils on the floor of the classroom that I gather and sharpen so the writing tools necessary for the genius of a six year old to be imagined is within reach of their little dirty hands.  Germs sprinkled on me by cute little sneezers.  Do I sound bitter?  I'm not, but I confess I think back to fifth graders and their conquered shoe-tying skills, pencil holding skills and last but not least, their ability to sneeze into the inside of their elbows.  Point is, I have not had enough time to keep up with hand washing and/or the application of hand sanitizer to keep those cold germs far from me.  And I'm not fast enough to get out of the way of the all-too-frequent "ha-chew!"

But I am calling this post "tootsies," meaning "feet."  Don't say, "hey wait a minute, tootsies are toes..."  Just let me be the leader here and accept tootsies to mean feet.  Okay.  I see the feet of children while I am tying their shoes or when they accidentally step on my feet because they are not watching where they are going...

I purchased my son new shoes for his feet.  I bought him Tom's.  The pair I liked for him was on sale and it just so happens that when you purchase this brand of shoe, a pair is donated to someone who needs shoes.  Thankfully, Sky allows me to indulge in pretending to be his stylist.  He, for a very long time, in addition to my daughter, happily wore the clothes I chose.  It's not exactly the same now, but he liked these shoes.  I was thrilled because he had been specifying sneakers as the shoe of choice for most of his teenage years.

I have bunions and fungus.  The fungus was acquired from a dirty pedicure spot, at least that is what I have decided to blame.  In the summer, I can disguise the nails by applying several layers of polish, and I even once found fake nails for toes.  They looked great, but I was in constant fear that I would lose one of them while wearing open toed shoes.  Like the people you see on TV whose wigs fly off...

I would love to have lovely feet.  And guess what??  I CAN!!  The Bible says "how lovely are the feet of them who bring good news..."

Territory - Patchwork Style

The Prayer of Jabez is a remarkable way to pray.  I sincerely wish I could say more about prayer when I am in the classroom.  I slip in truths about the Lord and most times the kids simply look at me.  Today I didn't say anything about God, but I told one boy that my kids didn't watch TV when they were little.  About 15 minutes later, he asked me if my kids liked that.  I got a kick out of his inquiry, so delayed, so curious, he felt badly for my children and when he found out they didn't mind not having a TV, he was relieved.  That was off topic, but it's not the only thing off topic in this post, just to warn you. Thus "patchwork" in the title.
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Imagine how glorious it would be if I could pray with an aggressive little girl who is acting out because of her parents' divorce.  Imagine if I could pray with these children.  Imagine.

I didn't plan to mention this next story, but I'm going to insert it.  When I worked in the middle school in town, while in 7th grade social studies, a student raised his hand and asked how to get to Heaven.  This was in the context of a lesson on some ancient civilization's belief system.  The teacher looked at me and I said, "may I answer that question?"  He gave me a nod, knowing I was a Christian.  Cooler than cool, I was able to share how Jesus came to save us and to bring us to Heaven because of His great Love for us.  I must say I was pretty eloquent for about ten minutes.  Why?  The Lord ordained and the Holy Ghost granted words.  Very joyous memory.

Remember my high-maintenance daughter whom I have mentioned in previous posts?  Well, she is at it again.  This time it's the desire and intent to lease a house in Fort Collins with four girlfriends.  I read the lease and sadly the occupancy regulation only permits three girls to sign-on and two, well they would need to reside their illegally.  The story is that everyone does this in this college town.  Everyone does what is right in their own eyes.  What is that anyway?  Just because a person thinks it, is it okay, it is so?  I always wonder that about random religious beliefs.  No scripture to back up a certain thought, but because a person thinks it, they believe it.  So odd, really.  Not holy ground, holey ground.

When I told Danae that this living situation was not going to fly, she became very distraught.  She had believed this house was to be hers, she had claimed her territory.  But the prayer of Jabez makes it certain that the Lord's Hand of blessing is to keep us from evil and that means, to keep us from what is wrong and what is wrong for us.

Pray for my daughter, that she would not want to miss out on true blessing, just for the sake of territory.  Thanks.

Coloring

You know by now if you have read any of my posts that I learn so much from first-graders.  Sometimes the learning is from a word of wisdom which pops from my mouth to meet the particular need one lone student may have.  This was the deal this past week.

Arnie (name changed for privacy purposes) was whining that his hand was just too tired to continue coloring.  The job he had done thus far was notable, but it seemed he had broken at least three crayons and the waxy color was so thick on his picture, it could practically be called three-dimensional.  So I had a word with Arnie.

I asked him if he liked music and birds singing and the sound of gentle falling rain.  Oh, yes, he liked those things.  Then I asked him if he liked music so loud that he had to cover his ears.  Oh, no, he didn't like that.  So I told him that of course the loud music was still music, but was unnecessary and in the covering of one's ears, the beauty may be missed.  I told him his coloring was beautiful but the pain in his hand and the broken crayons may be an indication that his coloring was too "loud."  So I suggested he tone it down, give his hand a break and make a beautiful melody with his hand and crayons.

He completed his picture like a charm and to date he has continued his melodic coloring.  Let's let what we do be easy on the ears, easy on the hand and beautiful to behold.

Little Man

School, for a first-grader is experienced just like you and I experience life as adults, only they are pint-sized and perhaps cannot express themselves, generally speaking, as accurately as adults because their vocabulary is limited, their writing skills are only beginning to sprout...  Yet they look each other in the eye and share information as though it is all that matters in the world, and it in fact IS all that matters in their little worlds.  Their stresses are life-sized to them, just as adults' stresses are indeed life-sized to them.

Specials at school are fun because they mix things up a bit.  They happen once weekly and are therefore more of an event.  We have wonderful special teachers.  The librarian can tell a story that can be hypnotic, the phys ed teacher is so skilled in her directions that each and every gym class is filled with aerobic-type activity which leaves the students panting and wanting for more.  The art teacher artfully (pun intended) directs the students, and each one creates a masterpiece he or she can be proud to take home.

One particular art class involved painting a hand and using it as a stamp.  Before anyone could stop it, one six year old had used her pants as a paper towel.  She cried and shook as though she could no longer face life, her pants to her had been ruined.  I assured and reassured and reassured again that the paint would come out in the wash, her pants would be good as new, but she would not be comforted.

Then there is Little Man.  It was not during a special, but at the onset of recess, early in the school year when his inner fortitude would be tested.  Little Man patiently awaited the arrival of recess for he had brought with him to school his very own baseball and glove.  Walking on the path out to the playground, a playground aide spotted that he was toting this base-ball, which was far too dangerous for throwing on a playground painted with six year olds.  She moved in like a member of the secret service to inform Little Man he was not allowed to bring such a ball out to play!  When I saw the tears beginning to flow, I moved in swiftly, bowed low and told him how big he was inside to take this shocking disappointment like such a grown-up.  How big it was of him to accept the fact that his ball could not be thrown during school.  How proud I was of him to be able to wait until he was home to have a toss with that incredibly special ball.

It worked.  He could handle the disappointment.

I once heard a poem, I forget the entirety of it, but it began with, "Disappointment, His appointment..."

God help me understand a "no," and to know it is going to be fine, for I am in Christ.