Loving My Neighbor

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Loving my neighbor is not optional. It is an expectation, a command. I don’t get to pick and choose based on my own preferences and opinions, even though some may be easier to love than others.

Many headlines in today’s news and on various social media platforms seem to blatantly ignore this truth. Reading them makes me feel sad, disappointed, even angry. Responding in frustration provides no solution. Remaining silent also is not the answer. So how do I put actions to this truth?

Loving the people who cross my path daily is the first step, but it cannot stop there. What about people who are not right in front of me, not in my immediate sphere of influence. Do I have a responsibility toward them? Yes! They are also my neighbors.

I must search my heart, making certain my words and actions do not place one group over another. Each person has value, no matter which group they belong to.

I’m reminded of the Good Samaritan story. A man was beaten and robbed, no different from current headlines. People in church and leadership roles had the opportunity to help, but were either too busy or chose to avoid the situation. A man who the aforementioned leaders would not even speak to was the only one who chose to do the right thing.

“But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭10:33-34‬ ‭NIV‬‬

““Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.””
‭‭Luke‬ ‭10:36-37‬ ‭NIV‬‬I

I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of neighbor I want to be. Not only that, that’s the kind of neighbor I need in my life. One who will accept me for me, flaws and weaknesses included. One who will take time to bandage me up, care for me, and help me back on my feet if necessary.

One who will always choose to love their neighbor.

5th Grade Words of Wisdom

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Why is it I’m so surprised when kids speak words of wisdom? Yes, sometimes it is difficult to catch amongst all the silliness and play. It seems to appear when least expected. Like today in the middle of Christmas Carol Bingo, for example.

I wanted the last few days before Winter break to be extra fun and relaxing. If I’m feeling stressed, I know my students are even more so. What could be more fun than Bingo? And when it involves Christmas carols, you can’t go wrong.

                                   Christmas Carol Bingo

My first class of the day is 5th grade. In the middle of our game, one of my students said, “Sometimes I have anxiety. There is so much to get done.” “Me, too,” I responded. “But sometimes music helps my anxiety.” This brief conversation, then the game continued.

It really was a fun class. We were singing along while we played. And of course, there are peppermints for prizes when one gets a Bingo. This first forty-five minutes of the day flew by.

Our game was over. All the marker pieces put away. Students were lining up to leave and face the remainder of their day. That’s when my friend from earlier walked over and gave me a hug. “I just wanted to say thank you, Mrs. Morris. I was having so much anxiety earlier, but now I’m not!”

Out of the mouths of babes…

Even as adults it can be difficult to deal with anxiety. First, we must recognize it, then find ways to cope. Maybe we can eventually learn to see it coming and feel prepared. But not kids. They need our help.

The funny thing is, in the process of helping my friend today, all be it unintentionally, his words actually helped me. I often talk about the power of music, the ways it can calm. I often forget, however, to utilize music when I’m feeling anxious.

These 5th-grade words of wisdom could not have come at a more appropriate time. Two days of school left before Winter break. Preparation for holidays and travel with family. Last-minute shopping. Joyful yet stressful times.

I think I’ll start working on my music playlist now. 😉

Here’s a good place to start. https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/river/571368921?i=571369254

Broken Hearts in Music Class

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“Mrs. Morris, you’re breaking my heart.” These words from a kindergarten friend during music class this past Friday.

He walked over in the middle of our Bingo game to inform me someone had spit in his eye. My investigation began, interrupting our game. By the time it was over, only a few minutes, he had confessed the entire story, including the part about him first “spanking” the alleged “eye-spitter.”

The game needed to continue. This was my first attempt at playing Bingo with kindergarten and I wanted to get to the best part! Five-in-a-row and BINGO! The prize, a piece of candy, was sure to be a hit.

My two friends involved in the conflict were not allowed to finish the game. Yes, it was sad, but there are consequences when we make poor choices. Spanking and spitting definitely fall into that category.

My two friends were definitely disappointed. The game continued, and finally we got to Bingo. I got out the candy, and their disappointment turned to devastation. Crocodile tears began to flow along with audible sobbing. And then those words, “Mrs. Morris, you’re breaking my heart.”

The proclamation was followed by a quiet comment about “just getting candy at home,” so I’m pretty sure there were not actually any broken hearts.

Oh, my goodness. So dramatic! It was difficult not to smile. Admittedly, part of me wanted to let them finish the game. In some ways, that might have been easier. Fewer tears would have been shed. But what message would that send to the other students? You can do whatever you want to your friends, and no one will hold you accountable.

When I see my friends again next week, I’m sure there will once again be smiles and hugs. All will be forgiven. And when it’s time to play Bingo again, hopefully, my friends will remember to keep their hands ( and spit) to themselves and play the game. I certainly don’t want anyone else’s heart to be broken during music class. 😉

My Red, Ceramic, Music Box Piano

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I have a small collection of miniature pianos. The very first one was a gift from my mom-a red, ceramic, upright piano with a cute little round stool. I’ve had this piano for as long as I can remember.

                                                 My little red piano

There is one more thing which makes this piano extra special. It’s a music box! A metal key on the back must be turned to begin its song. And what song does my red piano play? Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head. If I turned the piano key today, the music would play at an extremely slothful pace, making the song nearly unrecognizable.

                                            The magical key

So much joy came from turning that key when I was a kid. If I sit quietly and listen, the song still plays in my head. Fast to slow, then stopping as the mechanism winds down. The melody and the lyrics fill my thoughts, just as they did when I was a little girl.

So I just did me some talking to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done
Sleeping on the job
Those raindrops keep falling on my head,
They keep fallin’

Funny words for a song. Childlike in nature. I can picture a little girl standing in the rain, shaking her finger towards the sky. Asking the sun why it went away. Wanting the rain to stop.

I really hadn’t given much thought to the history behind the song until now. The original singer was B.J. Thomas. I’m certain I heard his recording on the radio. What I didn’t know-it was written for the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and won an Academy Award. How exciting!

It’s funny. I started thinking about this song yesterday in conjunction with my red, ceramic, music box piano. And then today, it rained all day long. Actually, it’s still raining now. Which leads me to the bridge section of the song.

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me
Won’t defeat me, it won’t be long
‘Till happiness steps up to greet me

Now that the day is ending, even though the rain is still falling, I’ll choose to look for that happiness. The happiness which comes from simple things. Simple things like the last line of this song:

Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me

Simple things like my red, ceramic, music box piano and the precious memories it brings.

Kids, Music, and Christmas

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It’s that busy time of year. So many things to do! Concerts, parties, baking, shopping. Everyone rushing around, trying to find that perfect gift. Crazy afternoon and evening traffic backed up for miles. Making travel plans to see out-of-town family and friends. Teachers trying to survive the last few days before a much-needed winter break.

With darkness coming earlier each day, it is tempting to go home and go to sleep after work. Or at least snuggle up with a good book, blanket, and cup of hot cocoa, maybe do a little online shopping. But sometimes it is worth it to do something that will spread a little cheer.

Yesterday after school, a teacher friend and I took our choir and student council students to visit an assisted living facility. The kids delivered cards and sang carols to two different groups of residents. You can just imagine the smiles on the precious faces of the elderly patients, many who have health and/or memory issues. The smiles on the kids’ faces were almost as bright.

When I arrived at school this morning, I overheard one student asking another about her visit to the nursing home the day before. Smiling ear to ear her response, “It was great! One sweet little lady gave me a kiss on the cheek.” Oh, my goodness. This excitement from a 5th grader.

Another sweet report went something like, “There was a lady in a wheelchair who looked like she was sleeping. But as soon as the music started, she opened her eyes and started moving!” I think it’s safe to say these children were a bright spot in her day.

Yes, this outing extended our day a little. Yes, it was a little chaotic carpooling thirty-something kids from school to the center and back. Yes, there is a level of stress that goes with making sure everyone gets picked up by their parent. However, all of those were overshadowed by the smiles and thank you’s which followed us out the door and were still impacting us the next day.

The truth is that bit of cheer we spread yesterday followed us right into today. Hopefully, some of it also remained with its original recipients.  

A beautiful circle of hope thanks to kids, music, and Christmas.

Hope, Love, Hate

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Hate: hostile actions motivated by intense dislike or prejudice.

Hate is such a powerful word. When it is encouraged and allowed to grow, the results are devastating. When our kids were young, we taught them not to use that word, especially when referring to another person. Yes, there are times we might not like someone. Everyone does not have to be our best friend. However, to say you hated someone-that was never acceptable.

This year is the 25th anniversary of the release of the movie Schindler’s List. To honor that anniversary it was re-released in theaters this past weekend.

My husband and I saw this movie when it originally came out. Even after 25 years, I remember feeling like I couldn’t move when the movie ended. I was crying, of course. How could I not cry at the sight of so much hate?

It is still difficult for me to imagine how such atrocities occurred and continue to occur in our world. Yes, I know they happen.  And movies such as Schindler’s List make sure we don’t forget the past. 

Love: an intense feeling of deep affection.

I also know there is love. I’ve witnessed its outpouring on others and experienced it in my own life. And yet…the hate still remains.

As Gart and I watched this powerful film once again, this time with our three grown children, different things stood out to me. There’s a particular scene where Jewish people are being put on trains for transfer out of the work camp, most likely to Auschwitz.

Oskar Schindler, a German businessman, sees the people peering through the small windows, gasping for air. He asks the Nazi soldier in charge to give him water hoses and begins to spray water into the cars, providing a small bit of relief.

It may not have seemed like much. Perhaps a sip of water. A moment of cooling in the middle of cramped, unthinkable conditions, crammed into a train car like cattle.

I walked through one of these train cars when visiting the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.  Small, dark, cramped. I can’t begin to imagine the fear which filled the air as those doors were closed.

The man in charge asked why Schindler wanted to spray this water. Why he would offer them even a moment of hope. His response was, “Humor me.” But there was desperation in his eyes. He knew he had to do something.

Hope: grounds for believing that something good may happen.

Mr. Schindler started out as a businessman, interested only in making money. But in the end, he helped save the lives of 1,200 Jewish people during the Holocaust. There are some 6,000 descendants from this specific group of people.

Near the end of the film, Schindler becomes inconsolable, anguishing that he did not save even more people. He was presented with a gift, a ring, with the inscription, “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.”

That is hope. Hope which leads to love. Love which will eventually overcome hate.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Romans 12:21

Being Content

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“It’s a Wonderful Life” is one of my favorite movies. I enjoy watching it at least once each year in December. Friday evening was my first viewing for this year. The perfect way to end a busy week at school and begin a much needed relaxing weekend. Snuggled up on the couch with a cozy blanket and the Christmas tree lights glowing.

                                        My favorite ornament.

The older I get, the more I understand my love for this movie. It’s about family and the importance of appreciating the little things in life. The main character, George Bailey, a would-be explorer always dreamt of leaving his small town. As we often do in life, he thought surely there must be a better, more exciting life, somewhere else.

This is an understandable occurrence, considering our common emphasis on the material. Pressure to acquire the “next best” in everything from our clothes and cars to our homes and jobs, is a constant presence in our society. A difficult idea to ignore, for certain.

Two particular scenes in the movie caught my eye this time. The first is when George is talking to his hard-working, exhausted father about his need to leave town. At the same time, he recognizes the greatness in his dad. What George doesn’t know, is that it will be his last conversation with his dad.

The second scene occurs near the end of the movie when George realizes that his life truly is a gift. He utters, “I want to live again. Please, Clarence, help me to live again.” The little things in his life suddenly moved to their deserved place of prominence.

I have several favorite moments in the movie, but these particular two are not typically the ones which stand out. As I started thinking about why these specific scenes caught my attention this time, a thought came.

I needed a reminder concerning the importance of being content.

Contentment in my job and current stage of life have been a bit of a challenge lately. Honestly, I’ve spent too much time thinking about “what’s next.” This has made me a little restless. And if I’m honest, also a little grumpy.

So, in these last days and weeks leading up to Christmas here is my goal:

Be content. Look for the positive in each day. Let people know how much they mean to me. Take time to enjoy the simple things.

Easier said than done? Possibly. But hopefully putting it in writing will help. And maybe someday I will be able to say with confidence…

“…I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation…I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”  Philippians 4:12-13

Merry Christmas! Take time to watch your favorite holiday movie. If you don’t have one, give “It’s a Wonderful Life” a try!  It definitely helped me focus on what’s important in my life, and inch a little closer to being content.

This Girl Still Needs Her Mom

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A young teacher friend, also a mom of young kiddos, mentioned asking her mom to come over and help her this evening. She’s tired and rightfully so. Having once been a mom of young kids, I can relate. Without a thought, I chimed in, “Call her! If my mom wasn’t 4 1/2 hrs away, I would have asked her to come see me yesterday.”

I always appreciated times my mom and mother-n-law helped out when our kids were young. The grandpas too, for that matter. I’m still a mom, but the kids are all grown up. I no longer need the same kind of help as when the kids were little.  But is it possible I need my mom now more than I did then?

After the brief conversation with my friend today, all I could think about was how much I miss my mom. We talk or text almost every day. I know I’ll see her over the Christmas holidays. But at this moment, today, that seems like a long way off. My brain says it’s not, but my heart doesn’t seem to follow.

A new, young country artist, Kacey Musgraves, recently caught my ear. Following are a portion of the lyrics from her song entitled Mother. This short, sweet song seems to know right where I am these days.  Take a listen.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/mother/1350091548?i=1350091553

I'm just sitting here
Thinking about the time that's slipping
And missing
My mother
Mother

And she's probably sitting there
Thinking about the time that's slipping
And missing
Her mother
Mother

The longer I’m a mom, the more I appreciate my mom. Lately, I find myself wishing I could spend more time with her. The 260 miles between us sometimes feels like a million. Maybe it’s because the older I get, the more I understand the brevity of time. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to realize that she understands how I feel most days…she’s been there already. Not in the exact same circumstances, perhaps, but the same stage in life.

Today I’m grateful for smartphones and texting. At least I can communicate with her daily. That will have to do for now. I look forward to a big hug from Mom (and Dad) in a few weeks. And when I actually see her in person, I’ll let her know how much I love her. She’s my mom.

And this girl still needs her mom.

The Brody Bunch

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When our school behavior tech walked into my classroom carrying a beautiful poinsettia, I knew immediately who it was from. As I began to share the story with my students, tears welled up in my eyes.

Before I became the music teacher, I taught special education. These flowers were from the family of one of my former students. Even though I’m not his teacher anymore, his grandmother continues to bring me this lovely gift each year. The tag reads, “We love you, Mrs. Morris.” From “The Brody Bunch.”

My student’s name was Brody. The first year I taught special education, he was in my class. Brody is a funny boy. He has his very own sing-song language. Listen closely and he will let you know if he’s happy, sad, playful or upset. Although understanding his language takes practice, it is worth the effort.

Brody has autism. Our first year together as teacher and student, I had more questions than answers. His family was helpful and gracious as I navigated my new job. Somehow Brody and I connected. He would look directly into my eyes, often a difficult task for individuals who have autism. It seemed as though he was peering right into my soul, understanding much more of me than I understood of him.

Brody’s grandma, know as Meece, was sweet from the beginning. Meece brought Brody to school almost every day, walking him to my classroom. Her morning greetings always started our day on a positive note. Then she and Gramps would pick him up in the afternoons. Brody and I enjoyed a daily afternoon walk to meet them in the parking lot after school.

Although I’d communicated with Brody’s mom and Meece, it had been several years since I last saw him. Last year while visiting another former student at a different school, I heard a familiar song. It was Brody! Looking all grown up and much taller, but the same Brody.  

Not sure if he’d remember me, I walked over to say hello. His approach was cautious, his look at first puzzled. But then he grabbed my hand and looked me directly in the eyes. That same look I’d seen many times before. Yes, he knew me.

The delivery of this beautiful red and green poinsettia not only added some holiday cheer to my messy desk, but it also brought a flood of memories. Memories of both the challenges and joys of those first teaching experiences.  Memories of the challenges Brody faced and continues to face.

Memories of one precious student and his amazing family-The Brody Bunch.

More Than Just a Band Concert

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My husband and I recently attended our last winter concert as band parents. Our youngest son, a tuba player, is a senior. If not careful, my emotions can quickly take over during events like this. The powerful music, memories of concerts past and of faithfully attending family members who are no longer with us create a perfect recipe for tears.

The band program has been an integral part of our family life for many years. Great memories. So many expressions of support and encouragement. Sibling to sibling, parent to child, grandparent to grandchild-a beautiful circle of family love and support. With an added bonus of experiencing amazing music. (Not to mention the after-concert dessert. That may be the part I’ll miss the most.) 

Of course, some “mom” traditions accompany these events. Pre-concert photos, often by the Christmas tree, for starters. Due to a musical rehearsal after school, I was not home to get that picture this year. Instead, I was meeting our son for a quick dinner before the concert.

As he climbed out of his car, looking so handsome in his tuxedo, I said, “Oh no. I wish I’d thought to have Rachel take your…”. Before I could finish my sentence, he said, “It’s ok, Mom. Rachel took a picture. She knew you’d want one.” I managed not to burst into tears, so proud that my kiddos recognize the importance of these little things.


                                     Winter band concert 2018

Sitting in those performing arts center seats once again, like so many times before, I was overcome with a sense of gratitude for this experience in our kids’ lives. Involvement in these groups grounded them, gave them a place to belong, and taught them a life-long skill. Responsibility, creativity, discipline-to name a few of the strengths gained. And all of this in the setting of a public-school music program.

While listening to beautiful music, I noticed the number of students on stage. All of these individuals, capable of making a lovely sound on their own. Yet working together, their parts intertwined, created magic. And all the magic held together by an amazing teacher/director standing in front of them.

Although I know time must keep moving, and a new season is approaching, it’s difficult to imagine a school year without such events. I’m looking forward to discovering what new things we will celebrate and encourage as parents. But I will always remember our years attending concerts with joy, thankfulness, and appreciation for the power of music. Looking back with the understanding that if you look closely enough, you realize each event was much more than just a band concert.