Aliens from another planet have landed in your neighborhood and have asked you to show them around your town for one day in order to learn about life on Earth. Where do you take them and what do you do?
" This probably isn't what you would see on most tours of the earth" I warn my alien friends as we hover over the choked Ghanaian traffic. " I mean, an African market isn't on most earthling's list of things to see before they die, but it's the best I can do, because this is my home."
Giving a group of aliens a tour of my town was not my plan when I woke up this morning, but hey, we're missing the traffic and they're letting me drive, so it can't be all bad.
Our first stop is the Makola market in downtown Accra. The first word that comes to mind is suffocating, both in terms of heat and amount of bodies moving along the street. The next is invigorating. One can't help but feel the energy that courses through this mass of humanity as we pass booths of fresh tomatoes, smelly fish, second-hand clothes, and soap. There is no distinction of rich or poor, young or old here, only of who will let you pass and who will push you aside. "Hey obroni[white man]! Wo ye den? [what are you doing]" the shoppers call out to me as we pass. As if my white skin weren't enough to make me stand out, my green companions don't exactly blend in. I stop and make friendly conversation in twi, the african dialect, introducing these aliens to the social, as well as the cultural experience of shopping in an African market.
The next stop is my favorite: a children's home not far from my house. As I step off the spaceship, the littlest kids come running up, shouting my name. The older ones hang back, staring at the aliens until I reassure them. I lead the kids over to a field and organise a quick game of what the world calls football; an African favorite. Although the aliens are soundly beaten, they seem to enjoy it and even agree to a quick game of ampe (a Ghanaian jumping game)afterwards. As the red, dust-covered sun begins to set we wave goodbye to the kids and head home.
Before they go, I insist that the aliens try some traditional Ghanaian food. The menu is fufu (a starchy ball of dough) with groundnut soup, goat, and a dessert of fresh pineapple. Full and happy, the aliens return to their ship. "So, this is what earth is like, huh?" one of them asks as they leave. " I like it." I think for a moment and then reply, " well, maybe if more earthlings could see the earth I showed you today, they would like it a little more too. Like I said, this isn't a typical tour. Its a part of our world most people don't see." "Thats too bad." he replies over his shoulder as I nod my head. "I couldn't agree more."
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Monday, December 10, 2007
I Love Christmas!
Which is funny, because actually christmas is normally not my favorite holiday, cause it gets so stressful sometimes. It just makes me nervous and hurried all the time. But right now im really enjoying it. We have our tree up in the big, empty room between the dining room and my room. And its a really really nice tree. That was one of the saddest material things when we moved to ghana. Every year in the states we got a real tree. And it wasnt christmas until the house smelled like christmas tree. Its still one of my favorite comfort smells. Fake trees just didnt cut it. And it didnt help that when we first moved here, our tree was the size of my big toe. Ok, maybe a little bigger, but to give you a point of reference, we had to put it up on a little end table so people could see it. Now thats sad. ANYWAYS, thanks to my sweet mumsie, we have a beautiful tree this year that makes me smile every time i walk past it. its beautiful.
Yesterday we had missionary fellowship at our house. And it was so fun. Im gonna be totally honest here and say that normally i dont love missionary fellowship. more on that later, but just know that yesterday i loved it. We, as a group, chose three 'secular' christmas songs and three 'sacred' christmas songs (my dad's wording, i like it). One of the secular songs was "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" It is now officially one of my favorite christmas songs. if you havent heard it, you need to. like now. And one of our sacred songs was "O Holy Night". Now let me turn all grinchy for a second and say that i dont really like most 'sacred' christmas songs (I really do sound like scrooge. sorry). They just seem a little too nice to me. Silent Night? Away in a Manger. They make having a baby in a nasty, animal-filled cave sound romantic. Now Ive never had a baby, but from what i hear, its anything but calm and bright. And i betcha the baby Jesus cried. he was a human baby after all. But this song yesterday was so good to me. I loved it. "A thrill of hope, The weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn". Thats such a beautifully apt way to describe our world. weary.
I dont know about you, but being in the world makes me tired. Hopeless. Useless. There's so much crap happening that after awhile you stop getting mad and start getting tired. at least i do. A Thrill of Hope. How desperately do we need that? Especially at christmas when you want to puke if you see one more strand of lights, one more piece of tinsel, have to buy one more present. Shouldnt that thrill of hope be enough? Cause it got me real excited yesterday. The knowledge of what that hope could mean to the world made me a lot less tired. People talk about world peace a lot, and seem to think that if we had that, all the world's problems would be solved. But how do you have peace without hope? How do you have hope without Someone to save you, to hold you close and whisper that hope in your ear when youre just too tired to hear it? Christmas is beautiful, but not for the reason most people think. Its beautiful because a baby boy was born to a very very young girl and her scared husband in a cave, in some not-sterilized-straw, lauded by shepherds who saw the glory and praise that this baby wrapped in rags would inspire. That is beautiful because it is so very plain. Its not flashy, no tinsel, or lights, or even pretty christmas trees. Just a baby and a mama and an army of angels that some little boys out watching the sheep got to see.
That sure gives me a thrill of hope. If He could come the way He did and still do all the things He did, how can I not do and be what He's called me to?
Yesterday we had missionary fellowship at our house. And it was so fun. Im gonna be totally honest here and say that normally i dont love missionary fellowship. more on that later, but just know that yesterday i loved it. We, as a group, chose three 'secular' christmas songs and three 'sacred' christmas songs (my dad's wording, i like it). One of the secular songs was "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" It is now officially one of my favorite christmas songs. if you havent heard it, you need to. like now. And one of our sacred songs was "O Holy Night". Now let me turn all grinchy for a second and say that i dont really like most 'sacred' christmas songs (I really do sound like scrooge. sorry). They just seem a little too nice to me. Silent Night? Away in a Manger. They make having a baby in a nasty, animal-filled cave sound romantic. Now Ive never had a baby, but from what i hear, its anything but calm and bright. And i betcha the baby Jesus cried. he was a human baby after all. But this song yesterday was so good to me. I loved it. "A thrill of hope, The weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn". Thats such a beautifully apt way to describe our world. weary.
I dont know about you, but being in the world makes me tired. Hopeless. Useless. There's so much crap happening that after awhile you stop getting mad and start getting tired. at least i do. A Thrill of Hope. How desperately do we need that? Especially at christmas when you want to puke if you see one more strand of lights, one more piece of tinsel, have to buy one more present. Shouldnt that thrill of hope be enough? Cause it got me real excited yesterday. The knowledge of what that hope could mean to the world made me a lot less tired. People talk about world peace a lot, and seem to think that if we had that, all the world's problems would be solved. But how do you have peace without hope? How do you have hope without Someone to save you, to hold you close and whisper that hope in your ear when youre just too tired to hear it? Christmas is beautiful, but not for the reason most people think. Its beautiful because a baby boy was born to a very very young girl and her scared husband in a cave, in some not-sterilized-straw, lauded by shepherds who saw the glory and praise that this baby wrapped in rags would inspire. That is beautiful because it is so very plain. Its not flashy, no tinsel, or lights, or even pretty christmas trees. Just a baby and a mama and an army of angels that some little boys out watching the sheep got to see.
That sure gives me a thrill of hope. If He could come the way He did and still do all the things He did, how can I not do and be what He's called me to?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
I dont have a title for this post. There are so many things colliding in my head right now so the title-line-thingamagigger looks dauntingly small. I cant deal with that right now. But the problem with having a lot going on in my head is that i absolutely have to get some of it out. So this is what yall get: brain vomit. gross. im really sorry i just wrote that. but i dont want to delete it.
I absolutely love to travel. I think i unconsciously have known this but it really became true this past week. I love reading about places and people but there is something so beautiful about seeing, hearing and feeling those places. You can read all about the culture and beauty of a place, but until you feel it, you cant truly recognise it and experience it. For those of you who travel, even if its just to the next town in your state, you know what i mean. Its the feeling you get, the smell that hits you, or the color of the sky, as you open your car door or step off the plane.
I just got back from an MUN trip to Amman, Jordan by way of Cairo, Egypt. Hence this particular brain vomit. The first thing i thought when i stepped off the plane in Cairo was, "cold". Which in my world is very relative. and then it was, "blue sky". The sky was incredibly beautiful when we landed. The reaction was very much the same in Amman, minus the blue sky. it was dark. But here's the thing. I love those first impressions. But what stays with me is the expression and personality of the people who make that country what it is. And let me just say, middle eastern or Arab hospitality is absolutely unrivaled. They are the most accomodating, kind and enthusiastic strangers i have ever met. For example, when we got to the airport in Cairo, we had steeled ourselves for an extremely boring 8 hour layover full of homework and uncomfortable airport chairs. What we got was a fully paid for tour of the city complete with the pyramids, sphinx, guide, shopping, and an incredible lunch. Who does that?? Middle eastern hospitality apparently. Amazing. I will not even attempt to describe it because, quite honestly, words often cheapen things as amazing as this. Ill try with pictures later.
I also love coming home. Ive decided home is defined by those same feelings, colors and smells that make travel so distinct. On the way back we discussed in detail the humidity that drapes itself around you as you step off the plane in Ghana. None of us was looking forward to it. But then I actually stepped off the plane and that humidity, combined with the smell and feel of charcoal cooking fires and diesel fuel let me know i was home. And this is the cool thing. That doesnt mean i will only feel at home with those first impressions. Home may one day be the feel of dry desert heat combined with the unforgettable sound of wind blowing through open space. Or a sharp layer of cold and an unbelievably blue sky. The point is that you recognize what home feels like the moment you step off the plane, wherever home may be at that moment. And that is beautiful to me. Its one of the things that makes travel so satisfying.
I hope home soon feels like middle eastern warmth and kindness.
I absolutely love to travel. I think i unconsciously have known this but it really became true this past week. I love reading about places and people but there is something so beautiful about seeing, hearing and feeling those places. You can read all about the culture and beauty of a place, but until you feel it, you cant truly recognise it and experience it. For those of you who travel, even if its just to the next town in your state, you know what i mean. Its the feeling you get, the smell that hits you, or the color of the sky, as you open your car door or step off the plane.
I just got back from an MUN trip to Amman, Jordan by way of Cairo, Egypt. Hence this particular brain vomit. The first thing i thought when i stepped off the plane in Cairo was, "cold". Which in my world is very relative. and then it was, "blue sky". The sky was incredibly beautiful when we landed. The reaction was very much the same in Amman, minus the blue sky. it was dark. But here's the thing. I love those first impressions. But what stays with me is the expression and personality of the people who make that country what it is. And let me just say, middle eastern or Arab hospitality is absolutely unrivaled. They are the most accomodating, kind and enthusiastic strangers i have ever met. For example, when we got to the airport in Cairo, we had steeled ourselves for an extremely boring 8 hour layover full of homework and uncomfortable airport chairs. What we got was a fully paid for tour of the city complete with the pyramids, sphinx, guide, shopping, and an incredible lunch. Who does that?? Middle eastern hospitality apparently. Amazing. I will not even attempt to describe it because, quite honestly, words often cheapen things as amazing as this. Ill try with pictures later.
I also love coming home. Ive decided home is defined by those same feelings, colors and smells that make travel so distinct. On the way back we discussed in detail the humidity that drapes itself around you as you step off the plane in Ghana. None of us was looking forward to it. But then I actually stepped off the plane and that humidity, combined with the smell and feel of charcoal cooking fires and diesel fuel let me know i was home. And this is the cool thing. That doesnt mean i will only feel at home with those first impressions. Home may one day be the feel of dry desert heat combined with the unforgettable sound of wind blowing through open space. Or a sharp layer of cold and an unbelievably blue sky. The point is that you recognize what home feels like the moment you step off the plane, wherever home may be at that moment. And that is beautiful to me. Its one of the things that makes travel so satisfying.
I hope home soon feels like middle eastern warmth and kindness.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Village People
You know that feeling of total frustration and anger at a faceless, unreachable entity that will never know the full extent of your wrath only because you will never find the person who is ultimately to blame? If you dont, you have never flown Delta from Atlanta to Accra. If you do, you must, like me, have assumed that when you check your bags straight through from Atlanta to Accra it means they arrive with you. Silly? yeah. Stupid? probably. Because, according to Delta checking your bags straight through means they arrive, at the earliest, two days later. Read the fine print people. You would think i would get used to this, but no. Delta's unfailing and obnoxiously consistent tendency to lose our bags actually surprises me every time. Call me stupidly optimistic.
My last first day of required school was today. And it was one of the strangest, most unique first days i have ever experienced. We didnt go to classes. Didnt even see our teachers or classrooms. No books, supply lists, or schedules in sight. No, today was devoted solely to school unity-building games and activities. We were divided into villages which were made up of two people from grades 6 through 12. In our villages we got to learn everyone's names, hobbies, colors, etc. THEN we got to name our village, elect a chief, and choose a mascot. TOMORROW we get to come up with a skit in our village. The best two will be performed in front of the whole student body on friday afternoon.
I am all for school unity and getting to know kids in other grades. But walking into my french teacher's class (she was our 'village leader') and seeing "Welcome Village People" written in fun bubble letters on the board, it all became a little much. It has been an interesting few days. But the bottom line, thankfully, is that i am genuinely glad to be home in Ghana. And really, with the whole luggage thing, the Lord totally provided. we all had just enough for the next few days and the cheese, lunch meats, and chocolates came. All of which were miraculously still frozen. Laughter is so good in our house right now. I love being home.
Now this chief of the Blue Lama village needs to sleep.
please dont ask.
My last first day of required school was today. And it was one of the strangest, most unique first days i have ever experienced. We didnt go to classes. Didnt even see our teachers or classrooms. No books, supply lists, or schedules in sight. No, today was devoted solely to school unity-building games and activities. We were divided into villages which were made up of two people from grades 6 through 12. In our villages we got to learn everyone's names, hobbies, colors, etc. THEN we got to name our village, elect a chief, and choose a mascot. TOMORROW we get to come up with a skit in our village. The best two will be performed in front of the whole student body on friday afternoon.
I am all for school unity and getting to know kids in other grades. But walking into my french teacher's class (she was our 'village leader') and seeing "Welcome Village People" written in fun bubble letters on the board, it all became a little much. It has been an interesting few days. But the bottom line, thankfully, is that i am genuinely glad to be home in Ghana. And really, with the whole luggage thing, the Lord totally provided. we all had just enough for the next few days and the cheese, lunch meats, and chocolates came. All of which were miraculously still frozen. Laughter is so good in our house right now. I love being home.
Now this chief of the Blue Lama village needs to sleep.
please dont ask.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Home
Well, once again ive been my lazy self and havent blogged in over a month. I dont even know why i do it, i write like five in my head but when i sit down to type them, i dont know i just dont feel like it any more. weird. anyways.
Im writing from the States now. Which is fun. I love being able to go to the tea shop and talk to all the amazing ladies who work there. they inspire and encourage me in so many ways. I love sitting around and doing nothing with the greatest friends in the world, talking about absolutely everything, or watching many, many episodes of Smallville. And i love having my family near by. I love being able to go to my sweet new cousin's christening. i love being there for my uncle's surprise party (Where, by the way, he snuck in the back way and surprised all of us). I love walking into my aunt's house and immediately smelling and feeling the most incredible comfort. I love playing (or trying to play, give the missionary kid a break) dance dance revolution with my cousins. I love walking into church and feeling totally at peace. I love anticipating beautiful worship and an incredible sermon. I love being blessed by both. I love knowing that i can get in a car and drive as little as five minutes and see people i love and wish i could see every day.I love sitting in the Russian Baker's house and laughing so hard i literally cant stop. I love Chik-fil-a and Starbucks and Old Navy and Target. I love knowing that in 4 days i get to go to camp! i love being back.
Normally i write from Ghana. i miss it. I miss hearing "annaaaa! wo aba?!" when i walk in the gate from school. I miss being called "small daddy!". I miss our sweet neighbor dropping by and making me feel like family has come to visit. I miss our new neighbor and her sweet daughters, whose new faith and incredible questions challenge me and encourage me all the time. I miss walking into my older sister's room and being able to spill my heart. I miss Sunday night family time in my parent's room. I miss my bed. I miss the Ike house and all of the prayer, ministry, encouragement, and general outpouring of life that goes on there. I miss taxi rides to school and all that that implies:). I miss walking. I miss my PramPram kids and their amazing faith and love. I miss my sisters who are not even remotely related to me but whom i love so much(you know who you are). I miss the wisdom of four incredible girls who taught me more than i could ever have taught them. I miss the smell of my ghana. I miss my mormons and my girls and all of our craziness. i miss taking taxis. I miss Papaye's. I miss my animals. I miss the way life is in ghana.
You know those completely overused and just plain obnoxious phrases like "Home sweet Home" or "Home is where the heart is"? I hate those. Home is always bittersweet in my world. Its never home for long, and being home in one place means leaving a perfectly equal, but competely different home behind. So then i try "Home is where the heart is". Nope. unless i can have two separate hearts. or break mine in two. My heart is not in one place or the other. it is very much equally in both places and i cant pull away from either completely.
Im not saying that i dislike this struggle necessarily. How could i when i do love both places so much? I dont want to give up either one just to make things easier. I wouldnt trade this struggle for anything. But its still a struggle. So when i got sick of trying to find meaning in cliches, I turned to the one place i knew had answers. And this is what i found. Because our God is good and full of Grace. "At that time i will gather you; at that time i will bring you home". Thats all. it comes at the tail end of one of my favorite passages of scripture and ive probably read it 50 times. But the other day it hit me. And i mean, i get more than excited over going home to heaven, but reading this was more than that. Like, He will bring me to that feeling of home even before heaven. He will fulfil that need, or void, if thats what it is. He will gather me. Its a promise.
Im writing from the States now. Which is fun. I love being able to go to the tea shop and talk to all the amazing ladies who work there. they inspire and encourage me in so many ways. I love sitting around and doing nothing with the greatest friends in the world, talking about absolutely everything, or watching many, many episodes of Smallville. And i love having my family near by. I love being able to go to my sweet new cousin's christening. i love being there for my uncle's surprise party (Where, by the way, he snuck in the back way and surprised all of us). I love walking into my aunt's house and immediately smelling and feeling the most incredible comfort. I love playing (or trying to play, give the missionary kid a break) dance dance revolution with my cousins. I love walking into church and feeling totally at peace. I love anticipating beautiful worship and an incredible sermon. I love being blessed by both. I love knowing that i can get in a car and drive as little as five minutes and see people i love and wish i could see every day.I love sitting in the Russian Baker's house and laughing so hard i literally cant stop. I love Chik-fil-a and Starbucks and Old Navy and Target. I love knowing that in 4 days i get to go to camp! i love being back.
Normally i write from Ghana. i miss it. I miss hearing "annaaaa! wo aba?!" when i walk in the gate from school. I miss being called "small daddy!". I miss our sweet neighbor dropping by and making me feel like family has come to visit. I miss our new neighbor and her sweet daughters, whose new faith and incredible questions challenge me and encourage me all the time. I miss walking into my older sister's room and being able to spill my heart. I miss Sunday night family time in my parent's room. I miss my bed. I miss the Ike house and all of the prayer, ministry, encouragement, and general outpouring of life that goes on there. I miss taxi rides to school and all that that implies:). I miss walking. I miss my PramPram kids and their amazing faith and love. I miss my sisters who are not even remotely related to me but whom i love so much(you know who you are). I miss the wisdom of four incredible girls who taught me more than i could ever have taught them. I miss the smell of my ghana. I miss my mormons and my girls and all of our craziness. i miss taking taxis. I miss Papaye's. I miss my animals. I miss the way life is in ghana.
You know those completely overused and just plain obnoxious phrases like "Home sweet Home" or "Home is where the heart is"? I hate those. Home is always bittersweet in my world. Its never home for long, and being home in one place means leaving a perfectly equal, but competely different home behind. So then i try "Home is where the heart is". Nope. unless i can have two separate hearts. or break mine in two. My heart is not in one place or the other. it is very much equally in both places and i cant pull away from either completely.
Im not saying that i dislike this struggle necessarily. How could i when i do love both places so much? I dont want to give up either one just to make things easier. I wouldnt trade this struggle for anything. But its still a struggle. So when i got sick of trying to find meaning in cliches, I turned to the one place i knew had answers. And this is what i found. Because our God is good and full of Grace. "At that time i will gather you; at that time i will bring you home". Thats all. it comes at the tail end of one of my favorite passages of scripture and ive probably read it 50 times. But the other day it hit me. And i mean, i get more than excited over going home to heaven, but reading this was more than that. Like, He will bring me to that feeling of home even before heaven. He will fulfil that need, or void, if thats what it is. He will gather me. Its a promise.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Laughter
I love to laugh
HAHAHAH
LOUD and LONG and CLEAR.
HAHAHAH
LOUD and LONG and CLEAR.
Mary Poppins. One of those movies that just stays with you. I mean who doesnt enjoy watching people float on the ceiling and jump through sidewalk-chalk drawings? Who, in all honesty, hasnt wanted to be the person floating on the ceiling and jumping through the drawings? That movie represents a beautiful, carefree side of life that most people, myself included, lose at about age 6. I think people should mourn that loss more than they do. I mean, i understand needing to grow up and have responsibility and get work done. This is not some very flimsy Peter Pan-like protest against hard work or highschool. Its just a plea for us to be able and willing to let loose and laugh. For no apparent reason. And to laugh so hard that we cant stop. Laughter that makes your stomach hurt and ends up making you just feel better, body, mind and spirit, when its over.
My family has a new tradition. Every sunday night we gather in my parent's room and 'debrief' i guess. We talk about what the Lord has taught each of us, we tell fun stories from the week, we tell frustrating stories from the week. we talk. we sit. we spend those 20 minutes completely undisturbed as a family. It is a precious time. And at the end, to the sound of my unfailing protest, we lie on the floor, each with our head on one other family member's stomach. And someone starts to laugh. It is one of those feelings that should change the world. Liberating, beautiful, joyful, innocent. We just laugh. And the literal feeling of each other's laughter sets off a chain reaction that has us all in happy tears by the end. I feel clean, renewed and joyful in every part of my body by the end. Its awesome.
I Love to LAUGH
HAHAHAHA
Its Getting Worse Every Year.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Come to Jesus meetin'
I discovered something the other day. Sometimes its not enough to be right. I like to think about things in black and white. If something is wrong then its wrong, period. If something is unjust, it should be rectified. As soon as possible in my world. And while all of this is ideally very good, my world just doesnt work sometimes. Black and white gets shaken up sometimes. There will always be grey areas.
I have a situation at school. There is a teacher there that i have trouble respecting sometimes. Ok, well most of the time. He isnt very good at bringing stuff down to a level that highschool students can understand. Saying that used to make me really mad and worked up. In my head, my argument was, this guy is not a good teacher, we're not learning anything so why is he still teaching here? And i felt perfectly justified. All of the students who had him or had experienced his teaching agreed with me, the test scores agreed with me, even the administration agreed with me, and the rest of my class when we went multiple times to complain. We were right. I dont mean to say that pridefully or with disdain but simply to show that in a black and white world, we should have seen our complaints taken care of and a bad situation fixed. In a black and white world.
Every time that i had this man's class i would come home with a new grievance (in my mind unacceptable atrocity) to lay at the feet of my poor parents(or tatum or whoever happened to be close enough to listen to me blow off steam). And finally my dad and i had what he likes to call a 'come to jesus meetin'. He heard my arguments. He listened while i tore this man's teaching abilities to shreds. And then he looked me in the eyes and said, "anna, you can cry injustice, wrong, and unfair, until youre hoarse. But clearly you cant change this situation. BUT you can change your attitude towards the situation. You cant change this man, but you can change you" Now, i had heard this before. Im sure all kids have at some point. But it really hit home this time. Sure, i was right. Sure, the school probably should have done something about this a long time ago. But i was making myself miserable, encouraging my classmates to make themselves miserable, and most incredibly unacceptable, I was hurting this teacher. I was crying injustice and no one was listening. So do i continue to cry simply because im right? by virtue of the fact that i have full justification? absolutely not. I lay this man at the feet of Jesus and i walk away. I dont ignore the wrong, but when screaming that wrong doesnt work, i whisper it to the One who knows black and white better than anyone else and i let Him take care of it. I thank the Lord that i have wise and wonderful parents who hear my frustrations and give me much needed perspective. They help me shift the blinders out a little further. Thanks daddy. I needed it desperately
Because I walked out of that teacher's class yesterday having really learned something for the first time all year.
I have a situation at school. There is a teacher there that i have trouble respecting sometimes. Ok, well most of the time. He isnt very good at bringing stuff down to a level that highschool students can understand. Saying that used to make me really mad and worked up. In my head, my argument was, this guy is not a good teacher, we're not learning anything so why is he still teaching here? And i felt perfectly justified. All of the students who had him or had experienced his teaching agreed with me, the test scores agreed with me, even the administration agreed with me, and the rest of my class when we went multiple times to complain. We were right. I dont mean to say that pridefully or with disdain but simply to show that in a black and white world, we should have seen our complaints taken care of and a bad situation fixed. In a black and white world.
Every time that i had this man's class i would come home with a new grievance (in my mind unacceptable atrocity) to lay at the feet of my poor parents(or tatum or whoever happened to be close enough to listen to me blow off steam). And finally my dad and i had what he likes to call a 'come to jesus meetin'. He heard my arguments. He listened while i tore this man's teaching abilities to shreds. And then he looked me in the eyes and said, "anna, you can cry injustice, wrong, and unfair, until youre hoarse. But clearly you cant change this situation. BUT you can change your attitude towards the situation. You cant change this man, but you can change you" Now, i had heard this before. Im sure all kids have at some point. But it really hit home this time. Sure, i was right. Sure, the school probably should have done something about this a long time ago. But i was making myself miserable, encouraging my classmates to make themselves miserable, and most incredibly unacceptable, I was hurting this teacher. I was crying injustice and no one was listening. So do i continue to cry simply because im right? by virtue of the fact that i have full justification? absolutely not. I lay this man at the feet of Jesus and i walk away. I dont ignore the wrong, but when screaming that wrong doesnt work, i whisper it to the One who knows black and white better than anyone else and i let Him take care of it. I thank the Lord that i have wise and wonderful parents who hear my frustrations and give me much needed perspective. They help me shift the blinders out a little further. Thanks daddy. I needed it desperately
Because I walked out of that teacher's class yesterday having really learned something for the first time all year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)