New Year's Promise

“Love each other deeply—with all your heart.” - - 1 Peter 1:22

Every morning, Tyler met Charlie at the coffee shop before school.  They sat at the same table, ordered their usual coffee drinks, and greeted other patrons with a friendly “Good Morning!”  Some days they talked about politics, or college football, or the failings of each other’s generations.   On others, Charlie became Tyler’s mentor.  Nearly a half century his senior, he told vivid stories and offered guidance that, in a spiritual way, helped the teenager discover who he was and might become.

"Have you made any New Year’s resolutions yet?” asked the curious old man.  Tyler shook his head, having not given the upcoming milestone any thought.  He knew a clever response was imminent because of the way Charlie’s eyes sparkled just before he spoke.                                                                               

"You should make two lists!” Charlie suggested.  The first is a list of all the New Year's resolutions you WANT to keep.  When you’ve exhausted all ideas, write a second list of those that you actually WILL keep." 

At home that night, Tyler spent several hours working on the two lists.  After a sluggish start, he quickly filled an entire page with things he’d always wanted to do.  List 2 proved easier – he had no trouble picking five reasonable promises he could commit to.

The next day, the two met as usual.  “Show me your lists,” Charlie urged with an impish grin, the second one first.”  Tyler handed him the ‘WILL’ list.  Recognizing life’s burdens and my shortcomings, these are realistic steps towards a better life," he explained.

Without even looking at it, Charlie ripped the paper into tiny pieces and threw it in the nearby garbage can.  Tyler was shocked, then annoyed at Charlie’s disregard for his thoughtful effort.  That list was really a cop-out; the first list containing all the things I should do to completely change my life is the only one that matters.  He handed over his ‘WANT’ list.   

After an unusually long silence, Charlie crumpled the paper into a ball and once again tossed it into the can without reading it.

"Why’d you do that?" Tyler’s tone angry now. 

Charlie spoke in a quiet yet confident voice. "What you SHOULD or COULD do with your life is irrelevant.  What matters is what you MUST do."  He then pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Tyler, who opened it suspiciously.

Three simple words filled the page - "Love like Jesus!"

“You see,” he began “Jesus loved people – thieves; prostitutes; tax collectors; and people sick, poor, and little.  He loved people devoted to Him and those who weren’t.  He even loved difficult and dangerous people.  Loving like Jesus means growing a love for everyone, including ourselves.”

 

Loving God, sometimes we hurt too much to love anyone.  Help me love with my whole heart - even the most difficult people in my life.  Heal any wounds that keep me from loving others like You love me.  Amen.

Belmont's Best

“Don’t judge others, and God won’t judge you."  - - Matthew 7:1

Don raised miniature donkeys.   What cuties!  These smart, amusing, charming little creatures beg for attention with nudges, brays and funny little sounds.   Having them was more like raising dogs than horses – they were people magnets, and craved human affection.

For fun and exercise, Don raced them.  They too enjoyed the good-natured contests.  Soon his donkey races became popular Sunday-afternoon events, attracting adults and children who delighted in post-race petting and cuddling.

Don also owned a thoroughbred named Shasta – an agile, energetic beast he’d gotten in a trade.  The union of a fiery mare and a powerful stud, Shasta was born to run!  So Don included her in one of his races.  The result was obvious; Shasta won by a huge margin.

The donkeys didn’t care - so the practice continued.  Initially Shasta enjoyed the race not because of winning but because she loved running.  She’d exert extra energy to win by increasing margins each time.  

Soon though, she tired of the silly race.  The little donkeys posed no real competition.  Gaining no additional rewards for winning, she gradually slowed down - still winning but narrower margins.  Don (the fool) was ecstatic – he believed his little long-eared friends were getting faster!

One day a horse trader named Juan passed through town, needing a place to rest his herd.  Travel can be very stressful for horses.   In extreme conditions, they can lose as much as four gallons of water per hour not to mention the effects of heart, stomach and lung trauma.  Don invited them to stay at his ranch for the night.

The next morning, Don suggested Shasta race against Juan’s horses.  They could all use the exercise.  They wagered $500.  The race began.  Shasta, now competing for the first time against horses faster, stronger and more confident – lost miserably!

Don was shocked; maybe he’d deceived himself all along.  Maybe Shasta had simply lost her edge.  To settle their bet, Don offered Shasta as payment.

Juan, a skilled horse trader, was delighted to get such a great horse for a small price.  He bid Don “Farewell,” loaded Shasta into an empty trailer and headed west.

Months later, Don received a package from Juan containing a letter, several photographs, a recent newspaper cutout and $500.  The letter read; "I’m returning your money as Shasta turned out to be my finest purchase ever.  With training, she became a real champion, last weekend winning the Belmont Stakes.  I trust you will be as proud of her as am I.”

“I’m such an idiot!” sighed Don.   While he was comparing Shasta with little donkeys, he was making an ass of himself by giving up on her.  He’d failed Shasta.   Encouragement, not criticism, always brings out the best in everything. 

Lord, keep us from thinking too highly or ourselves.  Mold me, break me, reform me into Your image.  Open our eyes to the suffering all around us so that we can serve You as instruments of change.  Amen

Love Given . . .

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” - - Acts 10:35

Cody paced in his backyard for nearly an hour, getting colder by the minute.  His tissue-thin sneakers couldn’t keep the cold from his toes.  He wouldn’t wear boots even if his Mom could afford them.  Too nerdy!

He had no ideas about what to get his Mom for Christmas.  Discouraged, he thought to himself, "I’m so stupid, even if I had a great idea; I’ve no money to buy it anyway!"  Ever since his Dad passed away, the family struggled.  His two older sisters had already made beautiful gifts for Mom.  But on Christmas Eve, Cody still had nothing; not even a clue. 

He kicked the snow in frustration and headed towards downtown.  It wasn’t fair living without a father; especially when he needed a man’s opinion.

He walked from shop to shop, gazing into each decorated window.  So elegant – yet so beyond his means.  As he tearfully started towards home, a shiny quarter lay directly in his path.   He picked it up – never had he felt so lucky.  But his excitement quickly faded as he realized there was nothing he could buy for a quarter.

The last store before home sold flowers.  He offered his single coin and asked if he could buy just one flower for his mother.  The shop owner stared kindly at the small boy. “Wait here.  Let’s see what I’ve got."

As Cody waited, he understood why mothers liked flowers.  They’re full of color, delightfully fragrant and the ultimate sign of appreciation.

Suddenly the shop owner returned with twelve stunning, long stem, red roses.  Bobby's heart soared as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a snow white box.

“I happened to have roses on sale tonight for twenty-five cents a dozen!  Would you like them?" he asked.

Cody didn’t hesitate.  When the shopkeeper placed the box into his hands, he knew this must have been a miracle.  "Merry Christmas, son!" the pleasant man said as Cody left his shop.

The owner’s wife entered the showroom.  “Honey, who were you talking to?”

Staring pensively out the window, he replied, "In my morning prayers today, I heard a gentle voice urging me to set aside my best roses for a very special gift.  Just a few minutes ago, a poor lad with only a quarter came in wanting to buy a flower for his mother.

"He reminded me of my past.  I too, had nothing to buy Mom a Christmas present.  A complete stranger handed me $10 and told me to “pay it forward someday.”  I heard that same stranger’s voice today!”

They hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped outside, they barely noticed the chilly winter night.  Love given . . . is the only love kept.

Father, we know we can’t out give You.  Keep reminding us that in giving we receive; that I have nothing without You.  Let me give with an attitude of appreciation and worship.  Amen

Barbie's Story

“Whatever happens, keep thanking God for His Son, Jesus Christ.” - - 1 Thessalonians 5:18

One wintery December night in 1937, a small child climbed onto her daddy’s lap; her dark brown eyes beckoned him into her youthful soul.  She asked a simple yet heart-rending question.  "Daddy," four-year-old Barbie asked, "Why’s my Mommy different from everybody else's?"

Bob May stole a glance across his paltry apartment.  On the couch lay his bedridden wife Evelyn, dying from cancer.  Bob knew all too well what it meant to be "different."  As a child, he’d always been taunted by other kids because of his small stature.    Drawing from his “outcast” experiences, Bob imagined a mythical character with similar problems that eventually overcome his struggles.  He cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began telling this story.

"Many years ago,” he began, “lived a reindeer with a BIG RED nose.  Bob told the story to teach Barbie that, even though some of God’s creatures were unusual, they often possess an amazing power to make others happy.

Barbie interrupted excitedly, “Let’s call him Rudolf, daddy!”

“Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer,” Bob paused for effect as Barbie smiled a toothy grin, “wasn’t ashamed of his nose.  Others laughed at him; even his family was humiliated.  Rudolph had few friends.  But Rudolph was delightfully optimistic and never let his deformity hold him back.”

"Rudolph's big moment,” Bob continued, “Came when Santa landed his sleigh in Rudolph's neighborhood.  By the time Santa finished his deliveries, a thick fog had rolled in making it impossible for them to take off safely.   Santa was horrified at the thought of disappointing children all over the world.

Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever.  An answer to Santa’s prayers; he immediately asked Rudolf to lead his sleigh.  Through rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph that fateful night.  His bright nose pierced the mist like a beacon.  

The huge red nose became the envy of everybody in the reindeer world.  From that Christmas on, Rudolph was the most beloved reindeer of all."

Barbie giggled with joy when Bob finished.  Every night she begged him to repeat the story.  He decided to turn the fairy-tale into an illustrated poem in book form as Barbie’s Christmas gift.  Tirelessly he worked . . . until tragedy struck.  Evelyn died.

Undeterred, he toiled at the desk in his now lonely apartment, and completed "Rudolph" amid mournful tears. 

Bob’s employer loved the story and in 1939, copies were reprinted on newspaper stock and distributed by Montgomery Ward Santas to 2.4 million children that first year.  Even though Bob authored an immensely popular work, he didn’t profit from it until 1947 when he obtained the legal copyright. 

Today, Rudolph lives on - adding joy to the lives of new generations of children just as it comforted his young daughter during that difficult yuletide long ago. 

Jesus, life’s pressures don’t lead to self pity – how we handle them does.  Inspire my thinking, decisions and instincts so that like Your self-less example, I may be of greatest service to You today.  Amen

Tony's Gift

“Jesus said - Give everything you own to the poor for you’ll have far greater riches in heaven.  Then follow Me.” - - Mark 10:21

Tony hated the commercial aspect of Christmas: the overspending, the frantic last minute shopping, the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.  One year Kim decided to bypass the traditional shirts, sweaters, and ties.  She wanted to do something special for her husband.  

Shortly before Christmas, their 12 year old son Kevin and his wrestling team competed against an inner city team.  Those kids, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to Kevin’s teammates in their multicolored uniforms and matching wrestling shoes.  The team didn’t even have the requisite headgear designed to protect wrestlers’ ears - a luxury they simply couldn't afford.

The match was no contest – Kevin’s’ team won every single weight class.

Tony, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won!"  He had always had a passion for kids - all kids. "Losing so badly could destroy their confidence."  That's when Kim hatched an idea for the perfect present for Tony.

At a local sporting goods store, Kim bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner city Coach.  On Christmas Eve, she placed a red envelope among the branches of their Christmas tree.  The note inside explained that what she had done . . . was her gift to him.

The idea had Chinese roots dating back to the Qing Dynasty (1644 – 1912).  Unlike a Western greeting card, red envelopes are given at Chinese New Year.  The color red symbolizes good luck/fortune.

Eternal reassurance filled Kevin’s broad smile - clearly the brightest thing about Christmas that year.  It became an annual tradition.  One year they sent a group of mentally challenged kids to a hockey game, another year a check went to an older couple whose home had burned to the ground on Thanksgiving Day, and on and on.

The red envelope became the focal point of their Christmas and always the last present opened.  The children, ignoring their new toys, watched with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.  It never lost its significance.

This past summer, Tony died in a terrible car accident.   Still overcome with grief, Kim barely got the tree up.  But Christmas Eve found her nostalgically placing an envelope on the tree.

The next morning, three additional envelopes joined Kim’s.  Each child, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.  Tony's spirit, like the spirit of Christmas, lives forever.  Merry Christmas!

 Jesus, on earth You lived among people buried under an avalanche of poverty and pain.  Help us remember that the love we experience at this time of year, need not end on Christmas night, but can bring comfort every day of every year.  Amen

The Forgiving Tree

“Forgive those who have sinned against you and your heavenly Father will forgive you too.” - - Matthew 6:14

Times were tough in 1933; so hard that the Bauer’s couldn’t afford a Christmas tree.  When Maria brought it up, her mother Arlene replied angrily that it “ridiculous to litter one’s home with a dead tree.”  Maria disagreed.  Naively perhaps, she believed a tree might just bring some needed holiday cheer.

Days before Christmas, Maria collected from a newspaper customer who was several months past due.  The lady paid her $2 fee and even added a 50-cent tip.  Maria stopped at the Christmas tree lot.  A few scrawny ones remained unsold; she picked the best of what was left.  The seller wanted $3, but when her sad, puppy-dog-eyes met his, he agreed to just $2.50.

She drug the tree home through deep snow to prevent further damage.  Her heart almost burst as she stood on the front porch and shouted, “Merry Christmas!”

Furious, Arlene flew into a tirade about how stupid it was to spend money on a dumb tree, scolding the child for her reckless indulgence.  "Leave that tree there till it rots!  It’ll remind us of how extravagant you were!"  Slamming the door, Arlene retreated into the house and snapped off the porch light. 

Dad helped his disappointed daughter bring the tree inside anyway.  They decorated it as best they could, but it just wasn’t the same without a mother’s touch.  Sadly, it was their worst Christmas ever.

Decades later, Maria sat alone . . . her thoughts alternated between joy and misery.  She recalled her old paper route, that tree, Arlene’s outburst, and how Dad had tried to make things better.  A whistle from the kitchen caught her attention. 

Arlene, who was staying with them during the holidays and couldn’t sleep either, got up to make herself some hot tea.  When she entered the family room, Maria motioned for Arlene to come join her.  Maria commented about how she wished her Dad could’ve lived to see his grandchildren.

The room grew deathly quiet.  Then Arlene spoke, "Remember the tree you bought with your paper route money?"  She paused as great tears tumbled off her face, "Your dad was a good man, but we often fought about money.  We were months behind in our rent, groceries were scarce, and that tree was the last straw.  I took it all out on you.  Oh, Maria, please forgive me!”

They both cried a little.  It wasn’t difficult for Maria to forgive her.  The bitterness washed away like a sand castle in high tide.

The great gifts of this season won’t be under the tree.  You can’t wear, eat or play with them.  The great gifts – joy, peace and forgiveness - come as He came: quietly, freely, and unexpectedly. 

Jesus, thank you for pardoning my sins and giving me eternal life.  Fill my heart this holiday season with more than dirty dishes, discarded wrapping paper and January bills.  Amen.

Melvin's Mission

"Let hope make you glad.  Be patient in time of trouble and never stop praying.” - - Romans 12:12

Bruce hated Black Friday - the year’s busiest shopping day.  If he could, he’d sleep until December 26^th.   What was once a peaceful, cheery holiday is now laced with anxiety and fatigue. 

Alone, sipping coffee at a table by the window, he watched an elderly man making his way carefully down the sidewalk, balancing several brooms on his shoulder.  His light blue jacket covered a plaid flannel shirt and corduroy pants.  Thick glasses covered his eyes like a shield.  

“That’s Melvin,” whispered the affable waitress.  “He’s walked these streets for years, selling brooms to put his children through college.  In his seventies and nearly blind - I don’t know how he does it.”

Melvin ducked through the doorway into the restaurant as customers cleared the way for him.  He sold a few brooms as he moved quietly among the tables.  Bruce bought one too and invited the old man to sit for a while.  “Melvin,” he said, “I’ve a hunch that your story's very interesting.  It’d be my pleasure to share a hot meal with you.” 

Melvin took a seat and began talking.  “Mine’s a short story really.  Mom died when I was born; I never knew my Daddy.  Granma raised me - she’s one of two amazing women in my life.  The other’s my wife of 47 years.  I owe everything I am and have to Jesus.”

When the waitress brought their breakfast, Bruce asked about Melvin’s eyesight.  “I can see a little,” he replied, “but my wife, Dorothy, was born totally blind.  We raised five children.   The Lord always gave us work.  Before retiring, she taught music to disabled kids.  At 72, God helps me do what I do.”  Melvin warmed his hands around his coffee cup before continuing.  “I decided when I was very young that life’s about helping others.  I love God . . . and I love His people.”

This dear man could hardly see, Bruce thought as he buttered a biscuit.  Selling brooms couldn’t be very profitable.  “So how do you help people?” he asked bluntly.

Melvin sat up proudly.  “Every morning, I pray that God will send somebody who needs my help.  Then I wait.  These brooms are my lifeline to people.  Even a smile or a few kind words comfort folks in these hard times.  God never fails to send me people I can help.”

This guy had it all figured out, not fretful or anxious like the rest of us!  He navigates the crowds and the weather every day without complaint.  There was so much he could have complained about.  Instead, he chose the path of gratitude and service.  

As they hugged and parted ways that November morning, Bruce knew his holidays would be forever changed by this divine messenger.  Once again, God had sent Melvin somebody to help! 

Lord, when I can’t truly help, please help me reach for You.  Lend me Your strength so that I can see that the many other things that I can do to bring comfort to someone in need.  Amen

Angel Crossing

“Children are a blessing and a gift from the LORD." – Psalm 127:3

Rosie inhaled the crisp morning air and studied her surroundings – the bustle of rush hour traffic; golden sunbeams piercing autumn leaves; dogs pulling sleepy owners on their sunrise walks.  Today was special – the start of another school year.

The trip up the hill seemed more difficult than usual for the young 83 year old.  At her post, she took a moment to say her daily prayer for those with whose safety she was entrusted. 

Armed in a blaze orange vest, a stop sign and a cheerful smile, Rosie the Crossing Guard blew her whistle as her first “customers” arrived.  Her careful techniques had shepherded over 10,000 students safely across Old Sauk Road for 21 years.

Erin was her first “customer.”  She offered Rosie a warm hug when she reached the middle of the street.  Many children followed, offering high-fives and friendly greetings.  They respected Rosie – rarely did she have to raise her voice instructions.

By the time school started, Rosie was exhausted.  Her husband had suggested she quit.  She wondered if he might be right . . . maybe she was getting too old for this.

As she began her short walk home, she noticed a small child sitting on the sidewalk – crying!  Rosie walked towards the child and parked herself on the concrete next to the girl.  “I’m Rosie,” she began, “What’s your name?”

“Allie.”

“Allie, don’t you want to cross the street and go to school?”  The girl shook her head and stared at the ground.  “Are you nervous about starting school?  It’s a pretty cool place.”

“No,” she replied, “But I can’t cross that street.”

“Of course you can’t!  Not by yourself anyway.  That’s what I’m here for!”  Rosie gave her a wide toothy grin.  “So let’s cross the street together, OK?”

Expecting that she’d solved the crisis, Rosie was surprised to see more tears in Allie’s eyes. “Mommy told me to hold her hand when I cross the street, but she went to heaven.  I can’t hold her hand anymore.”

Now Rosie’s eyes reddened.  “Your mommy was pretty smart.  I’ll bet she’s watching you proudly from heaven right now.  “Do you believe in Jesus, Allie?”

Allie nodded.

“Your Mommy asked Jesus to send me to hold your hand so we could walk to school together.  I’ll hold your hand every day when you cross this street if you come back and tell me more about your Mommy.  Deal?”

Allie looked up and studied the kindness in Rosie’s face.  She nodded, “I’m ready now.” 

Rosie stopped the traffic and helped Allie cross.  Rosie was now certain of two things: for the 22^nd year she would keep her orange vest and Jesus had worked His magic again.

Holy Father, thank you for children! We accept with serenity, their worries, fears, and labors.  Give us the wisdom to mentor them, patience to teach them, and vigilance to lead them by our Christ-like example.  Amen

Monkee Business

“I am the Lord, the ONLY God.  There is no other God except me.” - - Isaiah 45:5

Your parents probably remember the Monkees.  They recorded albums from 1966 to 1970, briefly outselling the Beatles and the Stones combined.  But the wheels came off the Monkeemobile when it became public that the 4-member quartet was “manufactured” by a TV producer and had hit songs that were acoustically performed for them by others. 

On a cold January nearly four decades later at a Metro Station in Washington D.C., a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about forty-five minutes.  During that time, over 1,000 people went through the station, most on their way to work.  In took only a couple of minutes for a middle-aged man to notice that there was a musician playing.  He slowed his pace and stopped momentarily, before hurrying on to meet his train.

About 5 minutes passed before the violinist received his first dollar.  A woman tossed money in the case and, without stopping, continued walking.  Moments later, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then glanced at his watch and continued walking again.

At the 10 minute mark of his impromptu performance, a toddler stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly.  Intrigued, the boy stopped to watch the violinist again, but Mom pressed harder and the child had no choice but to walk on, looking back over his shoulder the entire time.  This scene played out several times by other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their kids to move along quickly.

The musician played continuously for three-quarters of an hour.  Of 1,097 people who walked by, exactly seven stopped and listened for a short while.  Twenty more gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace.  The man collected a total of $32.17.   He finished playing and silence took over.  No one noticed; no one applauded.  There was no recognition at all.

Unbeknownst to the passersby, the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians of our time.  He had played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.  Two days before, this same virtuoso sold-out a Boston theater where patrons paid an average of $100 apiece to listen to him play the same music.

You and I would likely have done the same thing - rushing by and missing one of the greatest musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . . because we were too busy.   I wonder though, if we would have stopped to catch a glimpse of Monkee-type media, no-talent celebs like Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, or Lindsay Lohan?   Be honest!

Holy One, protect us from the plague of false cults and phony prophets.  Show us Your way – the path toward perfect self-giving, the only one that leads to eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven.   Amen.

Those Who Teach, Can . . .

[Teachers] “Each of you has been blessed with unique gifts, use them well.” - - 1 Peter 4:10

Mike dreaded tonight’s cocktail reception.  In grand fashion, his wife Gwen would accept a partnership in a prestigious Boston Law firm.  He was so proud of her and how hard she has worked to become part of this “elite club.”   

But the reception would be thorny.  They were all such snobs; so dismissive, so overbearing.  The other Partners were famously rich, enjoying seven-figure incomes previously reserved for rock stars and pro athletes.  He had nothing against rich people; he too enjoyed the finer things in life.  But these people enjoyed making him feel inferior; showing disdain for his chosen profession.  What narrow minded hypocrites!

Cocktails aplenty, the ‘Masters of the Universe’ [or so they thought of themselves] proceeded to espouse their overly simplistic solutions to the country’s social problems.  Drunk now, the firm’s Senior Partner, blubbers on about the problems with education.  He argued, "Those who can – teach, those who can’t . . . teach teachers!  What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

To stress his point, Sterling asks rudely; "You're a teacher, Mike.  Be honest. What do you make?"

Mike paused before responding.  His remarks were polite yet frank. 

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.  I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.  I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 minutes without an IPod, Game Cube or movie rental.”

“You want to know what I make?  (He paused again and looked at each and every person in the room)  I make kids wonder.  I make them question.  I make them apologize and mean it.  I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.”

”I teach them how to write and then I make them write.  I make them do math problems with their God given brains, not the man-made calculator.  I make them learn from history’s mistakes.”

“I make my foreign students learn English while preserving their cultural identities.  I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.” 

“Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life!”

(Mike paused one last time and then continued.)  “To me money isn’t everything!  When people try to judge me by what I make, I hold my head high, paying no attention to their ignorance, because I MAKE A DIFFERENCE!”  I prepare kids to be CEOs, and doctors and even lawyers.  What do you make sir?

Sterling was speechless for the first time that night.

God our Father, thank you for all teachers - who share their wisdom and experience with gentle patience and seek always to bring the truth to eager minds.  Grant that they may follow Your  way, truth, and life, forever and ever.  Amen.