Our Papaw

 

 

My papaw loved a good song that celebrated Jesus. A few days ago he sat with my mom and chose every song we will hear here today. I’m pretty sure he sang them to her word for word, even though he was weak. It’s just the kind of guy my papaw was. He was praising his savior all the day long.

When I was a kid, I would sneak down to his shop to tell him dinner was ready & he’d often be covered in sawdust and listening to an a-track (when the rest of the world was listening to CDs). All of his music praised the lord just like my Papaw  continued doing until his very, very last day.

I too enjoy music. Probably some Papaw wouldn’t approve of, shamefully. But there’s a song that I’ve had on repeat a lot lately. The chorus says:

dream small

Don't buy the lie you've got to do it all

Just let Jesus use you where you are

One day at a time

Live well

Loving God and others as yourself

Find little ways where only you can help

With His great love

A tiny rock can make a giant fall

Yeah, five loaves and two fish can feed them all

So dream small

My Papaw always told me he was proud of us, but the things he mentioned, weren’t worldly accolades. He was proud we went to church, we serve others, we work hard. When I hear these lyrics, I think of how well he lived in his 88 and a half years. Over 32,000 days, my papaw loved God and others as himself. He found little ways where only he could help. From making little Christmas trees for school children that hang on trees from Kernersville to Pinehurst, to welcoming new babies with the most beautiful little chairs that sit in nurseries all the way from here to Texas, to helping with any and every church function he could—the Resurrection Run 5k, the Tribulation Trail, and passing out bulletins every single Sunday he was able.  He walked at the church in the early mornings, praying for the church family. He loved to visit with the weak and the hurting. It brought him such joy to serve others, oftentimes with two Nehi drinks in hand. Many people sit in church now that didn’t before because of my Papaw’s gentle witness to them. 

He and my dad are thick as theives. This was true even before we lost my Memaw. In college, I had called home in a panic because I had locked my keys in the trunk of my little red Honda. My dad told me he’d be right there to get the hide a key under my car, I couldn’t seem to find it alone. When he pulled up, I was relieved he had papaw with him. He’d only get so aggravated with me over it with my grandpa there. I was especially glad Papaw was there when we discovered that my keys weren’t actually locked in my car, but under a book in my dorm room. Neither one said a word that made me feel dumb, but let’s be honest, that was Papaw’s example. And I’m fairly certain they fed me dinner.

When my sister broke her ankle in high school playing soccer. Papaw was the one who drove her to school. He’d get her wheel chair out of the truck, help her in and wheel her all the way to D building to her first class. Along the sidewalk, Papaw became known as Papaw to other Mustangs. He never met a stranger. He made us feel so special, but he made others feel special too. 

Papaw was so humbled by the outpouring of love over the past couple weeks. He had no idea how many lives he had touched. He weapily told us he didn’t do it for a pat on the back, he did it for the lord. We all knew that. It was very evident in every word he spoke and every kind deed he did. My dad says my grandpa had more love in his pinky finger than most do  in their whole hearts, and how lucky are we that were loved by such a man.

In Paul’s letter to the Philippians he says in chapter 1 verse 21 

21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.

Like Paul, my Papaw had some really tough trials in his life, but his faith always grew stronger.  He was born a tiny little baby that his family didn’t have much hope would survive infancy. He worked so hard at all jobs he took on whether it was hauling feed, raising chickens or making Chatham central sparkle. He lost children, he lost his wife.

What Papaw had to lose in life he will gain in heaven. But he saw that his purpose here on earth was to live as light of hope amidst the darkness. He was truly the hands and feet of Jesus. Even in his last days he continued to be a blessing to others. No matter when asked how he was, he would say he was “blessed beyond measure.” His kindness touched so many lives and I know without a doubt he’s rejoicing in heaven, but we sure are missing him here today. We will miss him always. 

Big Dreams

When I started this little blog, it was really just a way to record memories of my little girl's milestones.  I never dreamed when I wrote the first blog post that a few months later I'd be announcing our second {unplanned} addition.  And really, this just became a place to get my thoughts out of my head.  I've often thought about my internal thoughts as a burden, because I worry and overthink, and writing about that helps me.  I share that with others, because maybe their thoughts weigh them down too.

Friday, our big girl was excitedly telling me all about her life's goals.  She's dreamed of becoming an engineer for a while now.  To add to that though, she told me she wanted at least 4-5 kids and she wanted to write Bible studies.  She wouldn't charge me for her studies, so I could use them with my ladies group.  Sweet, right? :) 

As she eagerly told me these dreams, I was seriously impressed that my 10 year old had thought of all the details she had planned, but I candidly told her, maybe sometimes the dreams she has might not be the ones God has planned for her.

I have always had big dreams, but somewhere along the way, I became a very practical person.  I love kids and I love being a teacher, but part of the reason I decided to become a teacher was in the very rural community I grew up in, I knew I'd be able to find a job.  I honestly feel ill equipped to be a teacher at times, because school was really easy for me.  I didn't have to grapple or work hard and I worry that I will never reach all my students because of that.  However, because I did love school so much, I'm always excited to make school their safe place, a place where learning is fun, and learn new ways to help all my students. My mom was a really amazing teacher, and I'm happy I get to follow in her {impossible to fill} footsteps. 

I sometimes wonder if I should have dreams outside the four walls of my classroom, but today I was driving home from church and I thought about the students who sit down in my classroom this year.  I'm certain that I was meant to learn something from them.  And hopefully teach them a few things too.  When I went home in June, I fully anticipated going back into my 3rd grade classroom.  In mid June, it looked like I would teach a 1st and 2nd grade combination class.  In August, I was given the news it could be Kinder/1st or maybe a 2nd/3rd.  I took a deep breath, and said, "I would really like the 2/3." And just so happened that stuck.  To all my teacher friends who have tackled any combination class, you're educational rockstars, because it's hard work. I'm constantly chasing my tail, just like Millie girl. But I'm certain that this was His plan.

Was it mine? Not really.  But of course, being a stepmother, having the girls 13 months apart, moving my girls during their elementary school years, tackling every grade from kindergarten to 5th weren't either. If my girl doesn't become an engineer, it'll be okay.  If she asks me to order the Bible studies she writes from Amazon, I will ;) I just hope to instill in her that big dreams are wonderful.  Following the Lord's calling might pull us away from those dreams a bit. It might seem practical, it might be scary, it might be something we aren't really qualified for, but it really might be just where we are meant to be. 

A Personal Relationship

A few years ago, when my girls were tiny, my mom invited me to a women's fellowship gathering at her church.  I left the girls with grandpa, put on a long dress (which was the expectation at the time), and kind of groaned inside. Women's ministry events were not my passion.  If I'm at all honest, it is because I was floundering in my walk with Jesus.  We weren't in church.  Not entirely because I didn't want to be, but the girls were a lot, I didn't want to leave them in a nursery at a place where I didn't know everyone. I was a little jealous of a lot of the girls I grew up with, surrounded by their families for support and having the same ladies in the nursery to watch their children that watched many of us when we were little.  My heart wasn't in the best place.

But I still remember that Saturday.  I remember the lady standing up there and talking with us.  I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was at that exact moment God placed a seed in my heart.  I needed sisters (not just my incredible biological one) to love and support my faith walk.  I needed to, in turn, encourage and love them in theirs.  

It took a fun week at a local VBS at my teacher bestie's church to nudge us to finding our own church.  Our church made it easy to get involved and I quickly was able to volunteer in the preschool ministry that my girls were a part of.  I joined a ladies small group and we had fun together.  Yes, we prayed and studied the Bible, but we did a Color Run, an escape room, picnic, it made learning together fun.  When we moved, we moved within an easy drive of our church, but during the week small group was a little bit too far.  I joined an online small group in the fall of 2019.  I went to one Zoom meeting.  I didn't like it.  It felt weird and impersonal.  Well, God had plans to teach me all about that too..ha!

Last summer, I had the opportunity to lead a teacher Bible study online (yay, Covid!), and that seed God planted in my heart to cultivate real friendships with other believers began to bloom.  I'll probably never stand on a stage and speak to a group like the lady did at that ministry event.  I'm an okay public speaker thanks to countless Gold Card award evenings (North Moore High School did a great job producing well-rounded graduates), but I get splotchy and nervous in my old age.  I wish I was great at sitting down and reading my Bible every day, but I'm not.  I wish my faith was always strong, but it isn't.  I have learned that having this sisterhood isn't a requirement for salvation, but it makes my journey way more sweet.  Iron sharpens iron.  I hope that as much as a I get from our weekly readings and meetings, the sweet women I meet with do too.

In the winter when I was choosing a book, I prayed that God would lead and guide our group.  I came across a book that we could read together, and that the author was in the process of publishing a kid version of the book.  I knew that many in our group had little girls and these books were written especially for women/girls. We read through our grown up book by March and I went ahead and bought the girl version.  This summer has allowed my girls and some of their closest buddies to read and learn together too.

Y'all when I was their age, I saw faith and loving Jesus as something very formal.  Dresses, lacy socks, church, organs, pews, hymnals.  While these were wonderful and meaningful parts of my testimony, I do not want my girls to have a formal relationship with their savior.  I want it to be a personal relationship.  I talk to God in my car, I read my Bible from an app, I listen to worship music on my morning runs. I get it wrong a lot, but because my relationship is personal and not formal, I can acknowledge my failures.  I know Jesus already paid my price.  His mercies are new every morning.

At the end of the day, my testimony isn't glamorous and I fall short so many times.  I hope that my children see that and know it's okay.  That God doesn't expect perfect, just good and faithful servants. If you don't have a church or a friend that supports you in your faith walk, my prayer is that you find those and know you have a friend in me.  If you need some recommendations on studies or books, I have a small little shelf I can share with you.  I'm grateful God plants seeds in us and I'm so thankful for that personal relationship with Christ.

All My Fears

My prison turns to ruin when Your love moves in.

I hummed these lyrics today, over and over.  Turns out these words were on my heart for a reason.

These times we're living in, they're full of a lot of unknown.  I have candidly admitted a lot of my shortcomings to myself and my small group ladies lately. I know that I worry.  I know that I put a lot of pressure on myself.  I have always told others that I'm replaceable at work (that's one of the things I remember telling a coworker before we listed our home and were planning on moving).  There will be other teachers to take my place, and they'll be great. Now at home, I'd like to think I'm a little more irreplaceable, but after telling my youngest she was being an idiot this morning, I doubt I will be winning mother of the year anytime soon either.

So, back to the unknown.  I like to think I have some control over things.  Outcomes and data are something we are forced to look as teachers.  I want to do things within my classroom to encourage positive outcomes. I want to love people and them to see God's light through that love. I just want to promote peace and harmony and I'd probably drive a VW van cross country living that hippie life had I been born in a different time.

Well, my fears this year are brought to the forefront every time the phone rings.  Today I got the dreaded call that we will be learning at home for two weeks, and you know, there's nothing I can do about it.  And His love filled my heart and I didn't cry (a month ago I might have).  I didn't get angry, because I knew we can handle it.  I'm not thrilled.  No teacher ever went to school to impact the lives of children to do so through a screen. Or on a hybrid schedule.  But we've been given the unique opportunity to teach students EXACTLY where they are physically and that's actually pretty awesome. 

On the flip side, our family has been facing some personal uncertainty and I've been mostly at peace about it until lately.  When the sand in the hourglass is running out, I guess that's where your true judge of character is.  Those lyrics came back today and I thought about the context of the song.  It compares our fears to walls of Jericho.  You know, Joshua and his army didn't bomb the city.  They followed God's orders. They marched around the city.  God brought those walls down.  So what does He command of us in today's time? In John 13:34 Jesus commands us to love one another just as he loved us.

So, love your family, love your friends, love your students, love your neighbors.... I'm not saying I've got remote teaching down pat.  I'm not saying I'm completely at peace with the uncertainty we are facing.  I'm just saying Jesus didn't let the world get in the way of sharing the love and we can't either.  When I'm less focused on me and more focused on others, that's when I feel most at peace and closest to God.  I'm still very humbly human, but I'm going to love my way through all my fears.

Year 13 & a Feel Good Story

When I was named Teacher of the Year for our school I was instantly forwarded a packet of essays to complete.  One of the questions was about what event significantly shaped you as a teacher and how it could encourage other teachers to remain in the profession.  Y'all, I'm just a regular girl teaching in a regular classroom.  Retaining teachers isn't really part of my job description.  Sadly this year, one of my teacher besties is being displaced and I would like nothing more than to retain her position.  I realize that's not what the question was asking me, and I needed to reread a little of those words February Rachel had, because June Rachel is TIRED. I'm not sure an empty classroom, void of all the love that was poured into it can convey, but I left school today feeling as empty as the place I had called my second home for the school year.  I figured I might not be the only tired teacher that needed a little positivity as we go into summer.

When I graduated from UNCG in 2007 I was convinced I was going to change the world.  As a North Carolina Teaching Fellow, I had traveled the state, learned about different school systems, met with district and community leaders and I was sure I had my whole career planned out.  However, I was still a little bit of a realist.  I had grown up in the very southernmost corner of Randolph County, attended school in Moore County where my mother taught, and I knew I wanted to work outside of her shadow.  Upon moving home, I also wanted to work with a diverse population of students in the county I lived in.  My very first interview at Ramseur Elementary, I was offered a third grade position.  This was it!  I was ready.

As it turns out, I wasn’t.  Nothing was quite like the poverty, the demands, the schedule.  My students were challenging.  Many weren’t native English speakers, nearly all of them came from broken homes, most did not achieve proficiency.  I was not wearing a superhero cape.  When my husband and I got married in 2009, I relocated to Kernersville and took a position there.  I cried and cried.  Oddly enough, those students, especially the difficult ones, were my heart and soul.  Even though I felt I never could do enough, I loved my students so much and we all grew tremendously those years I worked there.

 Fast forward to Summer 2018, I received a Facebook message from a parent of a child that I had taught back in 2009.  This student, in the fourth grade, was reading magazines I brought from home about chainsaws, because all he talked about was quitting school and working at his dad’s sawmill. His best buddy was barely reading in fourth grade.  I still remember pulling level D books for him and it was a struggle to get through them.  In her message, the mother invited me to attend these boys’ graduation from Eastern Randolph. We had just closed on our home in Sophia, and I was exhausted, but I hopped in my car and drove across the county.  I saw my very last class of Ramseur students walk across the stage.  I heard their names called.  Students that struggled, that had very few role models, that wanted to quit school at nine years old.  When I saw them after graduation, the boys hugged me, one lifting me slightly off the ground.  I whispered, “Buddy, I am so, so proud of you,” and he excitedly showed me his diploma.  “I’m so glad you were my teacher, Mrs. Henley.  I never forgot about you,” was his response.

There are times, especially as elementary school teachers, we cannot immediately see the fruits of our labors.   It’s important to note that the impact we make as teachers goes beyond the year we teach a child. While I have learned that you do not have to be a superhero to be a good teacher, that moment when I saw my students walk across the stage, I felt like I could fly. 

I really hope to always have an impact on the children I teach and I'm so grateful to have had that moment with my students when they achieved success.  Year 13 was certainly one for the books.  Virtual teaching, multiple home visits, a lot of blurred boundaries, because my students' families definitely became an extension of my own.   If you stuck with me this long, I'm curious, teacher friends... What are your moments that made the difference?

Quarantine Diaries

I haven't written a post in a while, because a variety of things.  I have had a tough year with my little class. I love my job, it's a huge part of who I am, but it has been heavy this year.  My girls have been amazing, and I'm so proud of them, but there's not as many cute stories to tell now that they are older.  Brent has transitioned well to high school and recently finished the classroom portion of his drivers' education program.  Time has been marching...

And then last weekend, it came to a screeching halt. With the COVID-19 virus spreading rapidly, life here has rapidly changed.  In one week's time, I have gone from teaching in front of a classroom children to trying to figure out how to work from home.  I've NEVER (not since I was home with only one baby) contemplated working from home.  It is NOT my jam.

It's scary, this unknown.  I'm a planner.  I cried when I looked in my calendar. I got a new calendar.  One that wasn't already written in.  It helped.  Not seeing those best laid plans that weren't going to be.  Reagan's birthday 5k that was cancelled, every single running club practice that wasn't going to happen, the Girl Scout meetings that wouldn't take place, church services that would only be online... it was too much.

We've planned a pretty awesome quarantine birthday for my nearly nine year old.  We will still run a little race (maybe not quite a 5k since she's recovering from the flu...a whole other can of worms that happened this week), we have gifts that Amazon will be delivering to our doorstep, she wanted to go to Pinewood (our country club) for dinner, so I bought her favorite meal from there to recreate here at home.  We will put a fancy tablecloth on the table, let the girls sip water from wine glasses, and sing happy birthday.  It's not the birthday we had planned, but my girl had already given her birthday to raising money for others through her 5k, I hope that she will let us spoil a little.

This morning was our first morning of this new normal.  Last week Reagan was diagnosed with Flu A which she graciously shared with her Dad.  I took sick leave from work Tuesday-Friday and worked on getting them well. Anna and I drank a lot of elderberry syrup and we stayed well.  We aren't now... I read the articles about it not being friends with the new virus.  Today we were homeschooling and remote working.

I woke up early, blared worship music, got everyone dressed, made breakfast.  I had scheduled our day because David went in to his office today and I was working from home.  The girls stayed on schedule until 9:30.  It was harder than I thought, it wasn't peaceful, but we all survived.  Tomorrow is a new day.  It's predicted to rain and be chilly again, but by Friday the sun should come out.  We will pray and appreciate this time together.  I can't fix this, but I can lead by example for my girls.  They don't seem phased at all yet.  I'm so glad they have each other to pal around with.  But my heart hurts.  It hurts for time missed with my class.  It hurts for the sick.  It hurts for the sweet milestones my girls will miss at school and with their classmates.  It hurts because I am fearful.  It just plain hurts.

Romans 12:12 hangs in our dining room.  It is one of my favorite verses, and I'm claiming it as our quarantine verse. Hope, Patience, Prayer.  Sending virtual hugs to all our friends.
 

Get Out of Your Own Way

It's been a busy season for our family.  Just the every day has seemed busy.  And I'll be the first to say, I love a schedule, a calendar, and things to embrace our time.  Meaningful events, hopefully, and not being busy for the sake of being busy. 

Over the summer the girls and I were lucky enough to get the chance to serve the elderly through a project at our church.  We visited a local nursing home and the girls met residents and created art with them.  Seeing these seniors smile and engage with the youngsters from our church was nothing less than heartwarming.  After several sessions, the church held an art gala at the nursing home for the residents and the families from our church to attend.  The day of the gala my oldest daughter was in a particularly and uncharacteristic grumpy mood.  She didn't want to participate and wanted to cling behind my back.  I pulled her to the side tucked my arm around her little waist and whispered, "sweetie, sometimes you have get out of your own way and do what's right for those around you.  These residents are happy you, especially you, are here.  God would want you to celebrate with them."  Reluctantly, she went over to a resident who she had crafted with and smiled when she reached out for a hug.  Later she told me she was glad she was able to look outside of herself and make room for others (in much simpler, sweeter terms).

As soon as those words popped out of my mouth "get out of your own way," I knew I've been guilty of not doing this.  I think back to when I made a grade level move that I didn't want.  I'm ashamed now of how selfishly I acted.  Thankfully, I was able to look beyond me, and see in the faces of six year olds, why I was where I was.  I wish, though, I had been able to do that initially.  It would have saved me a lot of uncomfortable emotions.  Or maybe the time, I stood silent at a memorial service, when I wanted to speak.  I ended up using this blog to share the words I still wish I could have shared that day.  There are lessons we pass to our littles that are often lessons we are still learning.  Learning to get out of my own way is one of those lessons.

What about the times, I did decide let go and let God?  Well, I was able to enjoy a pregnancy after a horrible scare.  I am able to share the Bible and sing and dance with toddlers and preschoolers on Sundays.  We live and work in a community where we've been welcomed with open arms.  I've made some of my best adult friends through church, work, scouts, and through the children that once sat in my classroom.  My life is so much better for the times I got out of my own way.

What's holding you back?  Is it you?  Is there something God is leading your towards that you are standing still on?  My hope for this new {school} year is that I'm able to see beyond myself ... for the little ones I tuck in each night, and the eighteen I get for 180 days.  We get one chance to do this life.  I want to do it right.