This year my church had a "Kidmas" service on Christmas Eve, and I was lucky enough to get to be a part and help serve communion. All the kids had a bread roll to share and I held the cups of grape juice. There was one little girl who came with her mother, grandmother and brothers. She was probably about 3 and hadn't taken communion too many times before. As the family approached I heard the mother whispering to the daughter instructions on what to do. As she approached me the mother told her to "drink the juice and say "thank you Jesus."" As the little girl received her cup her eyes looked up at me and she was silent for a moment. Then, still with her eyes fixed on me she turned and said to me, "thank you Jesus."
(I'd like to make it clear that I definitely realize I'm not Jesus, but hear my point.)
For those who have not heard the love of God and do not have a church home, where will they see Jesus? How will you bring the Jesus you know out to them in their own language, and who will see Jesus through you?
Isn't that what church is about, and why we need to rethink it?
I'm gonna think and let think.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Please and Thank You
Today Rachel's Challenge came to our school and held an assembly and a workshop for the school. The message was to start a chain reaction of kindness, because you never know how much you can impact somebody. In a world where we are told we are small, today I was inspired to know that God HAS given me the ability and means to make an impact much greater than I can fathom. We were challenged to share with 5 to 7 people how much of an impact they made on our lives. Here I want to touch on just one of those.
Mrs. Schmidt was probably one of the kindest, craziest people I know. She never met a stranger, and I'm pretty sure she was capable of being in two places at once. One of my earlier soccer memories was of when she was coaching our 1st grade team (we were the Vipers.) I came to practice one day just to find myself learning how to kick a soccer ball correctly...the whole time. For what seemed like an eternity our parents held the balls as we kicked the soccer balls in place repeatedly. That was my earliest memory of Mrs. Schmidt, and I'm not sure how it fits in to this post. All I know is that she was at that practice because she cared about us.
She didn't stay our coach forever but she didn't disappear. I can't count the number of times I rode with her to a game or stayed with her and Maria during a tournament. Mrs. Schmidt brought us snacks even when it wasn't her turn on the roster, and she was the one who brought enough for everybody. One of the best parts of soccer season was going to the pool party after the last game, and guess who hosted that?
I remember on the way back from a tournament we stopped at a shop that had authentic Mexican food so Mrs. Schmidt could buy some stuff. Did I mention she was the best cook ever? She was Catholic, and she could make the best meals even on a Friday in Lent. And if you didn't know Mrs. Schmidt, she didn't look Hispanic, and that's probably because she wasn't. However, growing up around the culture she was fluent in Spanish (and she was after all, a Spanish teacher.) So as her and my mom went in there, she put the workers into shock as she all of a sudden began to speak perfect Spanish. It wasn't above her, she was just speaking to people the way they spoke. She was a friend to them, and she considered them her friends.
As I finally got into high school I got the opportunity to have Mrs. Schmidt as a teacher. What she displayed outside the classroom was what she taught inside. She would repeatedly tell us, "I want you to learn a little Spanish, but what I really want you to learn is to be good people." That she strived for everyday as she shook our hands as we entered the classroom, as she arrived at school before dawn to tutor any student that asked, as she stayed until dark to do the same. Anyone who needed Mrs. Schmidt for anything could call on her at anytime. On the tests she gave us, she never failed to put on the end of the directions that started out "Please..." the simply two words of thank you.
A final story of Mrs. Schmidt also happened in her classroom that year. I had been having a bad day, and as I went to Spanish second period she noticed. As we worked on the computers something about conjugating verbs really set me off and I had a meltdown. Now I am one of those that is known for crying, in fact I used to get a prize if I didn't cry the whole day. This wasn't abnormal. However, Mrs. Schmidt took me outside and gave me a hug and said "aren't you glad that this happened when you were with me?" And truth is I was.
No other teacher knew me like Mrs. Schmidt, and no teacher had made it so obvious a point to show the genuine love and compassion that she had. Today as we talked about making kindness happen and setting goals for ourselves, I decided that I want to be someone that people know they can come to and trust, like Mrs. Schmidt was for me. She's not here for me to tell her that, or that I think she looks a little bit like Lucille Ball, but what I do today and how I act tomorrow is what counts. I challenge you as I challenge myself to find who you want to be and to go for it. "You never know when you might start a chain reaction."
Mrs. Schmidt was probably one of the kindest, craziest people I know. She never met a stranger, and I'm pretty sure she was capable of being in two places at once. One of my earlier soccer memories was of when she was coaching our 1st grade team (we were the Vipers.) I came to practice one day just to find myself learning how to kick a soccer ball correctly...the whole time. For what seemed like an eternity our parents held the balls as we kicked the soccer balls in place repeatedly. That was my earliest memory of Mrs. Schmidt, and I'm not sure how it fits in to this post. All I know is that she was at that practice because she cared about us.
She didn't stay our coach forever but she didn't disappear. I can't count the number of times I rode with her to a game or stayed with her and Maria during a tournament. Mrs. Schmidt brought us snacks even when it wasn't her turn on the roster, and she was the one who brought enough for everybody. One of the best parts of soccer season was going to the pool party after the last game, and guess who hosted that?
I remember on the way back from a tournament we stopped at a shop that had authentic Mexican food so Mrs. Schmidt could buy some stuff. Did I mention she was the best cook ever? She was Catholic, and she could make the best meals even on a Friday in Lent. And if you didn't know Mrs. Schmidt, she didn't look Hispanic, and that's probably because she wasn't. However, growing up around the culture she was fluent in Spanish (and she was after all, a Spanish teacher.) So as her and my mom went in there, she put the workers into shock as she all of a sudden began to speak perfect Spanish. It wasn't above her, she was just speaking to people the way they spoke. She was a friend to them, and she considered them her friends.
As I finally got into high school I got the opportunity to have Mrs. Schmidt as a teacher. What she displayed outside the classroom was what she taught inside. She would repeatedly tell us, "I want you to learn a little Spanish, but what I really want you to learn is to be good people." That she strived for everyday as she shook our hands as we entered the classroom, as she arrived at school before dawn to tutor any student that asked, as she stayed until dark to do the same. Anyone who needed Mrs. Schmidt for anything could call on her at anytime. On the tests she gave us, she never failed to put on the end of the directions that started out "Please..." the simply two words of thank you.
A final story of Mrs. Schmidt also happened in her classroom that year. I had been having a bad day, and as I went to Spanish second period she noticed. As we worked on the computers something about conjugating verbs really set me off and I had a meltdown. Now I am one of those that is known for crying, in fact I used to get a prize if I didn't cry the whole day. This wasn't abnormal. However, Mrs. Schmidt took me outside and gave me a hug and said "aren't you glad that this happened when you were with me?" And truth is I was.
No other teacher knew me like Mrs. Schmidt, and no teacher had made it so obvious a point to show the genuine love and compassion that she had. Today as we talked about making kindness happen and setting goals for ourselves, I decided that I want to be someone that people know they can come to and trust, like Mrs. Schmidt was for me. She's not here for me to tell her that, or that I think she looks a little bit like Lucille Ball, but what I do today and how I act tomorrow is what counts. I challenge you as I challenge myself to find who you want to be and to go for it. "You never know when you might start a chain reaction."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)