The Extra Mile

 “Never tire of opportunities to do something good." ~ Galatians 6:9

Like millions of students across the planet, Simone’s frustration was building; she felt like pounding her fists on the table like a toddler.  Her 12-year-old brain seemed to be spinning its gears without any notable progress.

She was coping with remote instruction, but just barely.  The sixth-grader was having difficulty controlling her temper; saying cruel things and constantly having to apologize for her outbursts.

She took another deep breath.

When Simone struggled with her algebra homework, she didn't have a ton of options.  She couldn't raise her hand and ask the teacher to look over her shoulder, she couldn't ask her classmate for help, and she couldn't rely on her parents to explain it either.  Her Dad had gotten all the answers wrong when he helped her last time.

But it wasn’t just the frustration from the pandemic’s in-home learning that bothered her most.  It was that distance learning had affected her relationships with classmates and teachers.  “The excitement of seeing colleagues, doing an experiment, learning hands-on, sharing lunch – it just wasn’t there anymore,” she thought. “That made school seem like a burden rather than a joyful adventure that they could reminisce about in the future.”

Simone had emailed her math teacher, Mr. Weber, for help to explain the latest algebra lesson on graphing.  Then waited for his reply. 

After exchanging multiple emails with his student, Mr. Weber could tell that Simone was struggling and about to give up; her voice cracking through tears of disappointment. “Hang in there,” he cautioned.  I’ve got another idea, just give me a few minutes, OK?”

Simone waited impatiently for him to email her some tips when the doorbell rang.

Standing on her front porch in casual attire and a baseball cap, Mr. Weber held a large whiteboard from school and a dry-erase marker.  He proceeded to explain the equation graphically as the sixth-grader listed intently from inside her home, taking notes while both adhered to social-distancing mandates.

Simone was shocked to see her teacher outside.  Her Dad wasn't surprised; they’d known Weber as a teacher and longtime friend.

Weber, who'd taught at the middle school for 27 years, said that helping Simone grasp the topic was equally special to him.  “That’s the joy every teacher joins the profession for,” he explained.  “Whether it’s F2F, online, or in a classroom full of 30 kids, that’s why we do what we do.”

Responding to all the accolades he received, Weber insisted, “Kindness matters!  Millions of teachers in this country go above and beyond every day for their students during this extraordinary time, I’m certainly not alone.”

Education is the road to success.  God bless those who teach!

Father God, thank You for the teachers who do what’s right for our kids; who make sure they believe in themselves and don’t ever quit.  Use this story as a reminder of the power of going the extra mile in being kind.  Amen

Their Last Conversation

 “The people who want to stay in your life will always find a way." ~ Unknown

If there was a lightbulb out or something to assemble, Kei’s Dad would do it.  Same if her bike needed repair or her doll’s arm needed reattaching, or she wanted a bookcase to display her library of Junie B Jones books – Dad did it.

Every time he repaired something, he asked little Kei to hold the hammer or wrench.  Just so they’d have some time for chitchat.

He never drank or took a “night out with the boys.“  Fatherhood was his calling.  To him, a father’s worth was measured, in part, by how well he knew the longings of his children’s hearts.

Every Sunday morning while Mom attended choir rehearsal, she and Dad went to breakfast before church.  It was one of her favorite parts of every week.  Without fail, their chats always included laughter, encouragement, and sports talk. 

The man she’d wrapped around her finger since the day she was born had been her softball coach thorough elementary and middle school years.  Softball provided quality time for more bonding.

Once Kei went away to college, Dad called every Sunday morning.  Years later when she bought a house, Dad painted it by himself for three days in the scorching summer heat.  All he asked was for her to occasionally bring him a glass of sweet tea and sit and talk with him.

One Sunday morning, Dad struggled to breathe so their call was unusually short.  Symptoms had started a few days earlier.  Kei knew her father would outrun the virus, but it progressed so rapidly that he became hospitalized.

Flying home, she tried to remember their last conversation.

When she arrived at the hospital, he pursed his lips so she would kiss him.  Then he closed his eyes never to open them again.  For the first time, he didn’t have time for a conversation with her. 

Later that evening, Mom asked “Did you tell him he could go?  Kei, it has to be you.”

“How could what she says matter?” Kei wondered.  It had been almost 10 hours since his eyes were open; since he spoke. 

But he needed her; he needed one last conversation with Kei.

She rested her cheek gently on the hand she held with both of her own.  Kei gaze at his closed eyelids and said, “I’ll miss you so terribly Dad, but I’ll be okay.  You can go now!”

She immediately wished she hadn’t … because right then, with those four words still vibrating in the air between them, there was the slightest change in his being, the stillness called death.  The world was as quiet as it’d ever been.

All he ever asked was for her time.  And now he has all Kei’s attention every single day.

Father God, thank You for the wonderful people in my life.  Watch over them and lead them into hope and blessing.  Protect and hold them when life is hard.  Help me be a better friend to them.  Amen

The Bicycle Lesson

 “No one is right with God.  Not even one!" ~ Romans 3:10

Liam learned to ride a two-wheeler early, successfully mastering balance, steering, and pedaling as if born to ride.  No other task beats bicycling to boost a child’s confidence.

He loved biking: fresh wind, bright sunlight, clean fragrances.  It meant freedom; a new-fangled way of having fun.  Nary a day passed when Liam could not be seen galloping his rusty iron horse around the neighborhood sidewalks and dirt paths.

As he grew into teenhood, he rode bigger bikes – always used and seldom completely safe: worn brakes, broken reflectors, missing chainguards.  They were all his father could afford on a teacher’s salary while feeding 5 children.  Liam didn’t mind.  It was that feeling of motion, speed, and the chance to ride over grass and mud he craved. 

Today after school Liam rode his bike for hours as if the rolling country road had a way of releasing energy reserves he didn’t know he had.  His legs remained in constant motion as thoughts hung in the moment, admiring each blossom, bird, and leaf.  Rubber tires met the road in a sweet love affair; one that made traveling onward so inviting.

Wheeling back into his neighborhood, he coasted down the hill, making S- shapes as he careened from the street’s far left to far right, no great risk at that quiet hour.  Flying down the slope, his speed increased too quickly.  Missing the curve, he popped the curb and tried to brake.

Que the Batman graphics: “CRASH, BOOM, THUD!”

Helmut heard a loud bang and hurried outside, spotting a boy rising up from the ground and steadying himself.  He ran as if the boy were on fire.

“I’m sorry, I’m, so sorry,” Liam repeated.  “I think my brakes broke.”  They surveyed the damage. 

The bike’s front rim formed an irregular oval; its frame twisted at obscene angles.  Salvage value only.

The car’s door was dented and scratched.  Fixable for a price.

Liam waited for the owner to get angry and berate him for what he’d done, expecting punishment or forgiveness at best.

But seeing the frightened teenager cower, Helmut refrained.  He understood that what’d happened was unintentional.  Certain the boy was OK; he forgave the child before helping him carry the wrecked bike home.

To Liam’s surprise, Helmut returned a few days later with a brand-new red bike for him, complete with working brakes.  The boy’s reaction above says it all!

Rather than screaming at the child for making a mistake, Helmut chose kindness, understanding, and forgiveness.  The word “forgive” literally means “to let go of,” breathing from your heart as you feel God’s presence.  It’s an attitude choice that honestly recognizes an offense and releases it on the basis of God’s clemency of us.

Almighty God, Your Son was the only perfect human; we all fail miserably short.  Thank You for Your grace and mercy.  Give me the strength and power to extend the same to those who’ve hurt me so that I might live in peace, joy, and freedom.  Amen.

A Father's Instinct

 “The watches of you like a protective shade." ~ Psalm 121:5

Like so many New Englanders, Tom adored the Red Sox.  He coached his kids through Little League and, occasionally, took them to one of the most beloved MLB ballparks on earth - Fenway Park.  

He’d scored 3 tickets for a game against the White Sox.  With his two younger sons in tow, the usher escorted them to front-row seats just behind the Red Sox dugout.  Tom’s smile couldn’t adequately reflect his amazement.  The lush turf, the Green Monster - they were so close.

The game was everything they’d hoped for.  With the score tied 2-2, Bosox second baseman Dave Stapleton swung late, slashing a foul ball into the stands to the right side of home plate.  The ball whistled into the seats so fast it was hard to follow.  Tom assumed the ball entered the dugout. 

Until he heard his 4-year-old son's sickening scream.

Tom looked down at Jonathan.  Blood gushed from a wound over his left eye.  The ball had fractured his son’s skull.

Boston slugger Jim Rice, one of the game’s biggest stars at the time, stood on the top stair of the dugout.  He couldn't see exactly where the ball landed but heard the horrific thud, the "Ooooh" of the crowd - and the dreadful silence that followed.

Sprinting from the dugout, he leapt into the crowd. Cradling the unresponsive child in his burly arms, Rice hustled back to the dugout where he was immediately attended to by the team’s physician.  The scene took less than 60 seconds.

Jonathon’s life-threatening head injury required emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.  Every second counted.  Rice's quick thinking helped save the boy’s life.  Rice even requested that the hospital bill be sent to him personally.

Incredibly, Jonathan left the hospital 5 days later.  They’d reunite 8 months later at Fenway when Jonathon delivered the first pitch of the ‘83 season.  

The best thing Jim Rice did in a Red Sox uniform wasn’t mentioned on his Hall of Fame plaque.  It doesn't show up in his stats or support his stature as one of the most dominant hitters of his era.

Rice, a father of two young children, was thinking of only one thing.  "My child," he said.

God our Father in heaven is the perfect example of what a father should be - a life-giver, instructor, provider, and protector.  He watches over us; never needing a break from the incessant needs of His children.  

The God “who keeps you” won’t doze off at 11 pm scrolling through notifications on an iPhone.  No, He’s available every minute of every day for the entirety of our lives and into eternity.  Such vigilant protection is unlike any other god.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,” thank You for delighting in Your children.  Help us consider all that You are and all that You have done for us.  Pour out Your love, grace, and goodness upon all Dads today and every day.  Amen

Tears in Heaven?

 “God will wipe every tear; there shall be no more death, sorrow, crying or pain." ~ Revelation 21:3-4

Darius was headed for work when flashing red lights at the railroad crossing stopped him.  He’d left plenty early, so the delay didn’t bother him.  As he waited in the silence of his Audi, his thoughts began drifting as if on feathered wings.

The crossing brought back memories of his friend Jamal who’d been killed here years before.  Surprised at realizing how many birthdays had passed since that tragic accident, an emptiness filled his heart again.

Darius closed his eyes, letting the void fill with flashbacks.  He heard Jamal’s good-natured teasing as if just feet away.  He recalled his laugh, his wit, his charisma.  He’d not had another friend like Jamal since; their friendship was as unique as the two of them.

He shifted in his seat, strangely ashamed at having dismissed or forgotten Jamal’s presence in his consciousness over the years.  He’d grieved through enough pain; shed more than enough tears. 

He’d become adept at hiding his broken insides.  But today for some reason, emotional storms were threatening; remorse triggered by lost opportunities.  As close as they’d been, Darius didn't know for certain if Jamal had ever accepted the salvation offered by Jesus.  Was he a true believer?  Had he accepted Christ as his personal savior?

Not knowing the answer plagued Darius to this day.  He flipped on the radio to calm himself.  His answer came immediately as the opening words to one of Eric Clapton’s most memorable songs greeted him.

“Tears in Heaven” is based on the tragic death of his 4-year-old son Conor, who died after accidentally falling from a 54-story apartment window.   The track was written during the blues guitarist, songwriter and singer’s hiatus from music after that devastating event. 

There’s a powerful verse in Clapton’s grief: “Beyond the door, there's peace, I'm sure.  And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.”  It was a song of belief; a song of optimism - of reunion.

“God speaks to us in many ways,” Darius thought.  “That’s why periods of solitude are so vital, otherwise we might miss it!” 

Through Divine intervention, Darius knew his friend’s fate.

Life’s pain, grief, and heartache can seem overwhelming at times.  But they’re temporary, and one day they will be no more for the Redeemed ones (Revelation 21:3-4).

No one can possibly calculate the buckets of tears shed every moment in this hurting world.  He allows sorrow to be woven into our mortal experience.  But in Heaven, He who forgives our sins also wipes away all tears. 

Ours is a God of tears.  And the reason why he wipes away our tears is partly because He knows firsthand all about suffering.   

God of Tears, I come to You when I’m sad.  Wipe the tears from my face.  Bandage my broken spirit.  Cleanse me with hope.  No matter how deep, I know that all wounds will be healed when You redeem us in heaven.  Amen

Praying for Others

 “Never stop praying." ~ Thessalonians 5:17

The plasma screen sat directly across from her like an unwelcome visitor.  A television should mean fantasy – like a hot air balloon, her chance to see so far and wide, to dream the world anew, the gateway to creativity.

Of recent, however, it was flooded 24/7 with the atrocities unfolding thousands of miles away.  She’d lived through WW2, Korea and Vietnam, but nothing like this.  Grace sat heartbroken; dumbstruck trying to process the events of last week – a free country being destroyed, families being displaced, whole lives reduced to charred fragments.  She felt helpless. 

Her foot tapped rhythmically, her cheeks felt tight, then almost without a conscious thought she picked up the remote to select the music channel and sat back, mind comfortably blank once more.  It didn’t alleviate her anguish.  Grace flipped back to news and wept at the images of hungry, frightened kids pleading for help.

Nathaly, her home health aide noticed her despair, stopped what she was doing, and sat on the coffee table facing Grace; blocking the TV.  Kindness broadened her smile.  Her eyes cast genuine warmth and empathy; an innate need to nurture.

Concern for fellow Ukrainians flooded her heart as well.  She still had family and friends in the region.

“You must think I’m silly,” Grace blushed.  “There’s nothing an old, penniless woman like me can do except pray.  At least I can do that,” she uttered half-heartedly. 

Nathaly continued to listen to her elderly friend with compassion.

“My frustration reveals something I don’t like to admit,” Grace continued.  “I don’t always feel like praying accomplishes anything.”

Nathaly now spoke in a soft, tender voice.  “Sometimes all we can do is pray because there is simply nothing else we can do.  Then we fervently put our knees on the floor, clasp our hands together and cling to God's promises through prayer.  We pray for whatever hurt is happening, whatever destruction.  We ask for peaceful resolution.” 

“But Grace,” Nathaly continued, “Saying “All I can do is pray” is doing so from a defeated posture.  Remember Who we’re praying to; Who’s hearing our petition.  This is no small thing.  We have the privilege of praying to the God who controls all things.  And when we pray to our Messiah, we must approach Him with confidence, knowing that He has the power and the desire to do what we ask.  Trust He’ll help!”

Truer words have seldom been spoken.

I know it sounds cliché, even trivial to think that the words we pray during these desperate times and situations will do anything to help.   But they do.  I believe in the power of prayer with every fiber in me.  I’ve seen its effects firsthand.

Almighty Father, remind us that we’re never meant to carry a heavy emotional load, but to take it to You instead.  Sometimes we forget the depth of Your compassion when we feel overwhelmed with pain and sorrow.  In those moments, there is nothing so welcome as a friend’s prayer directing us back to You.  Amen

Servant Leadership

 Leave your worries with God because He cares for you." ~ 1 Peter 5:7

Bald, thickly built and one who never forgot his humble beginnings, Sam Rayburn learned responsibility early.  Growing up on a small cotton farm, he and each of his 10 siblings had to contribute to make their farm a success.  Spending long days beneath the blistering Texas sun, he dreamed of eventually holding public office. 

While other boys pondered sports and girls, Sam Rayburn’s imagination flirted with speech making and helping others.  The confident teenager audaciously once declared that he’d study law, enter politics, and one day serve in the United States Congress.

He went on to spend 49 years in the House of Representatives, including a record 17 years as House Speaker.  Yet to Sam, “It’s not the length of service that matters, unless that duty has been of high integrity and rendered fully on behalf of one’s nation.” 

Known affectionately as "Mr. Sam," Rayburn helped deliver some of the 20^th Century's most vital legislation, working, as he put it, "with, not under," eight Presidents.  Third in line for succession to the presidency, he wielded incredible power and prestige.  

Like most national politicians, he occasionally considered running for President, but never made a serious bid for the White House.  A humble man who enjoyed many of life’s simpler pleasures, Rayburn was content to remain Speaker.

Throughout his long Congressional career, Rayburn paid close attention to his constituents, believing letters scribbled on blank paper were more valuable to him than those typed on elegantly engraved stationery.

One day, he learned that a close friend’s teenage daughter had died tragically.  Early the next morning, Rayburn knocked on his friend’s door, asking if he could help in any way. 

His grieving friend sighed, “Thank you Sam, but I don’t think so.  We’re making all the arrangements now.”  To which Rayburn asked, “Have you had coffee this morning?”

“No.  We haven’t had time,” the heartbroken man replied.

“Well,” Rayburn responded, “I can at least do that.”

As he watched his powerful friend make coffee, the father suddenly recalled: “Mr. Speaker, weren’t you were supposed have breakfast at the White House this morning.”

“Well, yeah, but I called the President and explained the situation; that I couldn’t come today.”  He’d just turned down breakfast with the President to make coffee for a distraught friend.  

It’s been said that “Powerful people rarely lack confidence but, they often lack humility.”  Sam Rayburn may have been an exception because he trusted God’s more powerful hand.

Free from the arrogance of thinking we can do it all by ourselves brings us to a place of peace; grounded and established in Him.  Paradoxically, it has little to do with even thinking about being humble or focusing on ourselves at all.

Almighty Father, in my battle against pride, keep me from failing to recognize Your gracious gifts.  Teach me to be more fluent in humility like your Son Jesus who submitted himself to ridicule and dishonor for the purpose of saving us all.  Amen