Death of a Tabernacle

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Many of you have undoubtedly heard of the death of a historical landmark here in Provo. I don't wish to reiterate here, other than to say that standing there in the midst of the fray gave me a feeling something akin to being sucker-punched in the stomach. To see a beautiful, old building be consumed by flames is a loss for us all…

I apologize in advance for the graininess of the photos. I didn't bother to take my tripod and shot these at a higher ISO than I normally would have.

The space between

Pin It There is a space.

A place where asphalt meets concrete; you’ve seen this space before I’m sure. Oftentimes, this is the area where new life tries to push forth, eager shoots feeling their way toward the sunlight from narrow crevices in the tarmac jungles of the city.

Each day I pass by the assorted weeds sprouting through the narrow cracks without so much as a second glance—after all, they’re simply weeds: Dandelion shoots, grass tendrils, and wild morning glory; all growing noxiously through the fissure—soon to feel the sweltering heat of the sun as the summer moves in with its searing temperatures. Some of them will survive the intense heat while others will simply expire, leaving behind lifeless remains to be blown away by the wind.

As I passed on one particular morning, I happened to notice something different growing there—it was a sapling; the small seedling of a Locust with its miniature twig-like branches reaching upward to the sunlight, nestled in amongst the weeds.

I passed over this small plant and went about my day, but it was on my mind; in fact, for the next few days I thought about it—and looked at it every time I passed. I knew it would die where it was. After all, it was growing in a zone where it would be cut down, run down, stepped on, or crushed. At such a young size I knew that I could probably pull it up; its chances were much better with my doing this than leaving it to fend for itself in a position of such precariousness where the inevitable result would be fatality.

I waited a few days, until after we’d had a rainstorm. On my way out to my car I paused to examine this small plant. I took it firmly by the stem—one day to be the trunk—and gently pulled.

The roots held determinedly to the packed earth in the fracture where asphalt and cement united together. I didn’t relent, but instead kept steady pressure; suddenly I felt the plant come way quickly. However, that’s when I noticed that I’d snapped the taproot.

I was worried that I’d killed it.

I brought it home and put it in a container of water in the sunny kitchen windowsill and checked it each day. At first there was no change; then it began to look sickly. A few of the little twigs wilted, browned, and fell away.

I was now positive that I’d destroyed it.

I had to remind myself that it was doomed where it was growing—it would only have been a matter of time before a school bus or other vehicle would have crushed it—there was a much greater possibility that it would survive with what I’d done.

I would wait.

After a few weeks, I saw that it was starting to sprout new shoots; tiny roots were also starting to emerge from the whitish base.

It was starting to adapt.

It was going to make it.

After a few more days it the roots were much longer, and even more branches had begun to develop.

It was healthy.

It had survived.

The day of grandeur came two days ago when I took my small friend out to a place away from oncoming cars and the feet of small children; to a place where it will have plenty of room to grow.

I planted it in the rich, warm soil.

It now has wide-open spaces, far away from that small crack where it once found itself; forced to grow—and before summer’s end—would die.

I think of the times in my own life when I am content to let myself survive day to day in a small crack in the ground; a place where life does not thrive and will one day be doused. Sometimes, it takes a lot of courage to move yourself from this little chink in the asphalt to the wide open space where the fields of possibility become yours. At times this move may hurt, old branches may wither away, but new branches will eventually grow to take their place.

Let us not be content with the space between.

The Escape

Pin It It was last weekend.

I was getting ready for Christmas in September when I found the two balloons I’d purchased for my sister’s birthday still hovering about the house. It amazed me, it was nearly two weeks after I’d purchased them; they both had life in them…life enough to still be airborne.


Well, knowing that birthday balloons were not really the style for the event we had coming up, I decided to pop them. The brightly-colored one was the first to go—after all, it was still in the kitchen and tethered to a gift bag; however, before I could get to the second balloon—the green star—my sister arrived and the balloon, somehow having gotten close to the door, made a lunge for freedom.

Needless to say, it had plenty of strength to make a quick getaway, and before I knew it, it had soared up into the heavens and soon disappeared from sight.

As I stood on the ground below, watching this balloon slowly rise higher and higher, I thought how this balloon was like—and unlike—me. I thought of those things each day I encounter which are bent on destroying my spirit.

When I say ‘spirit’ I am talking about either a destruction of self-esteem, or even an eternal soul.

The ways this destruction can come about are vast and unnumbered, and there have been many times when I find myself deflated and punctured—lying in a crumbled heap upon the floor—like balloon number one. These are usually from the times when I am clinging to people, places, or things which are unhealthy. Those things which are bent on deflating, tethering, and keeping me on the ground.

But as I watched this balloon I thought of how, if I’m really trying, I can ‘escape’ all of these things and rise above them—to a safe place where they cannot harm.

However, I have to be ready to leave them behind and rise above when the door is opened and the opportunity presents itself.

From there, I’ll let the winds carry me.

9-11

Pin It I remember hearing something on the radio about a terrorist attack on my way to work. My roommate had said something about it too when I was still just waking up…however, since my head was still groggy, I didn’t catch much of it.

I was confused.

When I got to school, I turned on the TV in my classroom; I was in for the shock of my life. Seeing what was happening miles away in New York, had me riveted to the TV.

My life had come to a standstill.

I couldn’t believe it.

A parent came in and started to explain why her son hadn’t done his homework the night before…

I heard nothing.

I felt nothing.

It was like a piece of my soul had been torn out, as well as my peace.

How could I be expected to teach a class of 4th graders when something like this had just happened? How were teachers able to do it when Challenger exploded and a school teacher, Christa McAuliffe died—along with the 6 astronauts—before the eyes of all America?


Somehow, I managed it.

But it was on my mind all day.

It’s now 7 years later.

I still think about it too…

I wonder; will I be ready when my time comes?

It wasn't funny

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I read over a blog entry this morning my cousin made about the song, “Don’t Laugh at Me” originally performed by Peter, Paul, & Mary. It reminded me of another version of this song I shared with my class last year as part of a song lyric study we do.

I listened to the song about thirty times and I still question all of the lyrics I was able to get down because of how quickly the artist sings them. However, the main point is that the message is clear…to not get our feelings of superiority or to laugh at the expense of others.

As I was looking for the video to this song to post, I came across several videos on YouTube where someone had convinced an overweight boy to dance crazily or someone was recorded doing a face-plant at the beach. Labels on these videos included things like, “Funniest Video Ever” or “This one will make you laugh!”

Sadly, they all came up when I typed in the search string of words, “Don’t Laugh.”

I remember feeling sickened as a roommate I had when I went to college was laughing hysterically at a video online, and called us all over to see what was so great. Curious, I walked over to his computer and he showed me a video of a man who decided to jaywalk. A car hit him and the man must have flown twenty feet down the street, landing in a crumpled heap on the asphalt. My roommate broke into fits of laughter saying, “Isn’t that the funniest thing ever!?”

I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen and how someone could trivialize it; shrugging it all off with, “Oh, they planned to hit him like that and the guy probably knew about it.”

It didn’t matter. It was not funny.

Sometimes it shocks me because of the things we view in society today as being ‘funny,’ or the photo we have to forward because it’s just so great.

I apologize about the lyrics if you read over them and discover that they are incorrect…like I said, he sings pretty fast.

Thanks, 'J' for reminding me.

Don’t Laugh at Me
Baby Jay

I’m the one they laughing at ‘cause my glasses on
Getting’ called a geek, never show my teeth, got braces on
And I know how it is to have to cry myself to sleep
What can I do, I guess I’ll just sit here myself and I weep

Is it just me, or do the others see flaws in my appearance?
It’s good to see they always find something to laugh hysteric
Or is it ‘cause I’m last there to get chosen this round
The out-of-dated playground’s clown when this was his time

Well I guess it is the truth ‘cause you choose who you want to mess with
You want to make fun of me? Then stand in my shoes for a second
Well is it too much to ask? ‘cause I’m here to listen: don’t pass me up
Don’t have to be my friend

(Don’t laugh at me)
Don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
In God’s eyes we all the same
Someday we all have perfect wings
Don’t laugh at me (uh, uh)
Don’t laugh at me

(In God’s eyes, we’re all the same)
In God’s eyes we all the same
(Someday we’ll all have perfect wings)
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings

The cost of livin’ that’s risen slapped me in criticism prison
It isn’t ‘bout who you are, or more but ‘bout what one is driven
Everyone’s lust for material riches is what really eats me up
A moment to say hello, Billy will on these streets we flow

People stare at handicapped; they kept looking for Bi-C
Had we ever met and spend when you pass out eyes never meet
I guess it’s not surprising, I’m never, it’s just like in the street
Last night I caught this bruise ‘cause I wouldn’t give up my bicycle

Because there was the fight for no reason,
I fight against the peer pressure
No beggars stealing chicken want you living for the street
Well is it too much to ask, ‘cause I’m here to listen: don’t pass me up
Don’t have to be my friend

(Don’t laugh at me)
Don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
In God’s eyes we all the same
Someday we all have perfect wings
Don’t laugh at me (uh, uh)
Don’t laugh at me

(In God’s eyes, we’re all the same)
In God’s eyes we’re all the same
(Someday we’ll all have perfect wings)
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings

If we’re fat, thin, deaf, blind, short or tall
Well aren’t we all? Well aren’t we all?
So, if we’re fat, thin, deaf, blind, short or tall
Then aren’t we all? Then aren’t we all?
Even if we’re fat, thin, deaf, blind, short or tall
Well aren’t we all? Well aren’t we all?
So if we’re fat, thin, deaf, blind, short or tall
Then aren’t we all? Then aren’t we all?

Since we all have in common, don’t get your pleasure from my pain
In His eyes we all the same
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings

(Don’t laugh at me)
Don’t call me names
Don’t get your pleasure from my pain
In God’s eyes we all the same
Someday we all have perfect wings
Don’t laugh at me (uh, uh)
Don’t laugh at me

(In God’s eyes we’re all the same)
In God’s eyes we’re all the same
(Someday we’ll all have perfect wings)
Someday we’ll all have perfect wings

(Don’t laugh at me)

Don’t laugh

What's cooler than being cool?

Pin It I saw a student at my school who was sitting up against the wall, crying.

“What’s the matter, Joey?” I asked.

“Some kids made fun of me on the playground.”

“Now why would they do that?”

The tears started to flow. “They told me I shouldn’t be wearing sunglasses. They said, ‘Why are you wearing sunglasses? Are you trying to be cool? Because you’re not!’”

Face was buried in hands once more, and crying commenced. “I told them that everybody in the world is trying to be something they’re not, so it’s okay for me too…they just laughed at me and said I’d never be cool.”

I sat down next to Joey.

“So what gives these three other kids the power to decide who is and who isn’t cool?” I asked. “Why do you believe that they can choose who or what you are?

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I think you’re pretty cool…and whose opinion is more important to you? Mine, or theirs?”

“Well, yours, Mr. Z.”

“You know what it is that really makes a person ‘uncool’, Joey?”

Shrug.

“Somebody who makes fun of others, hoping that their fellow loser friends will think they’re cool…now that is waaaayyyy uncool in my eyes.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” I smiled.

“These glasses are pretty cool, you know.”

“Yep, but not as cool as the kid wearing them.”

I have a plant

Pin It I write this blog because I think somebody needs it.

I have a plant.

I love this plant.

It’s called an Asparagus Fern.

My mom used to own it and I remember it from the time I was just a little boy. When my parents split, I took the plant. I’ve had it for ages. A few years ago my mom told me that I could take the plant out of the pot it was in, and separate the roots. I could then take these parts of the plant and put them into separate pots.

I did this.

The plant began to look sickly and I was afraid it was going to die. For a long time it looked terrible and I wondered if I should throw it out, so I wouldn’t have to watch it wither away.

I didn’t.

I watered it, and kept it in just the right amount of sunlight.

Something amazing happened…it got better. The green returned to its leaves and it started to grow…in both pots. I was thrilled. I now have three plants…two in my house, and one in my classroom.

I think that our lives are an awful lot like this plant. There have been times we’ve been uprooted and “torn apart” so to speak. These are hard times when we just want to give up and toss everything into the trash. But we can’t…we need to keep going. There will be growth again and a feeling of newness, however, it usually takes time.

A few years ago, Amy Grant came out with a song called, “It Takes a Little Time.” My favorite line from this song is:

“It takes a little time sometimes
To get your feet back on the ground
It takes a little time sometimes
To get the titanic turned back around.”

Sometimes we just need to be a little more patient with ourselves.

Life never ceases to amaze me...even with all the strains and adversity, my plant lives.

I love my plant.

Building v.s. Wrecking

Pin It In our lives, we all are faced with decisions; it is these decisions that make us what we are. It was Steven Curtis Chapman who once said,

“We are who and where and what we are…for now.
This is the only moment, we can do anything about.”

There is a poem I heard a few years ago that really hit me hard when I first came across it. The poem illustrates the two types of people that are out there…builders, and wreckers…

The Builder

I passed one day though a busy town,
and saw them tearing a building down.
With a “Ho, heave ho!” and a husky yell,
they swung a beam and a side wall fell.

I asked the foreman, “Are these men skilled?
The kind you’d hire if you had to build?”
“No,” he chuckled. “No indeed,
the common laborer is all I need.
I can easily destroy in a day or two,
what builders have taken weeks to do.”

I thought to myself as I went on my way,
which of these roles have I tried to play?
Am I a builder who works with care,
strengthening lives by rule and square,
shaping my peers to a well-made plan,
helping them do the best they can?
Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,
content with the labor of tearing down?

- Author Unknown

The more often we make one certain type of decision, the easier it is to make similar choices in days to come. Like a trickle of water which entrenches itself deeper and deeper into layers of ancient sandstone—one day to form a canyon—so are the type of actions we choose day to day, that cut their way into the sandstone of our habits, forming our character.

“Always be a little kinder than necessary.” ~James M. Barrie

One of the choices we make in this life is how we will treat those around us, whether they are our friends, family members, coworkers, or acquaintances. We can make a decision to be kind, or to be unkind. We can choose to build them up, or to tear them down. Like an artist’s painting which may take days, weeks, or even months to complete, building up of others can happen, however, this work takes time. Yet, it only takes a moment to destroy the priceless masterpiece—it is so much easier to tear a person down than to build them up.

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.” - George Washington Carver

A few years ago I had a student in my class whom I’ll call “Joey.” Joey was a bit behind his classmates in academics as well as in sporting ability. He was not a perfect kid. Joey was also a little bit different from his classmates and this made it hard for him to make good friends.

You see, many kids would look at him on the outside, and judge him based solely on this. So often, they’d merely hear something about him from somebody else and take this as being truth. They wouldn’t try to get to know him, but instead let somebody else’s ideas become the new reality of this boy. Many kids would tease him because he was an easy target, tearing him down, and making fun of him for the things which were different about him.

I watched with anguish as this boy made mistakes, and then would be teased by those around him. I tried to help, but unfortunately you cannot control the spiteful actions people can sometimes do…I saw him slowly being worn down by his peers—his classmates, those who should have been his friends.

I hoped that things would get better for Joey in middle school, that with a larger group of kids he would be given a fair chance and have the opportunity to make more friends. Unfortunately, this was not the case. His “reputation” followed him, spurned on by the cutting remarks by those who’d known him in grade school. In middle school he still had a problem finding good friends…people that could truly see the boy who was there.

“Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” - T.H. Thompson

This last week, Joey came by to say hello. He shared with me that he only has one friend now in school and that it’s hard for him. When I asked him what could be done, he said, “Nothing. People just don’t give me a chance…they won’t even try to get to know me.”

When he left my classroom I did a lot of thinking about this boy. I also have thought a lot about the things I have chosen to do in my own life. I am forced to look at myself and ask the hard question…who have I often chosen to be? Have I been a builder who works with care with all those around me? Or have I chosen to be a wrecker who tears down? I guess there have been times in my life where I have been both of these. It is my goal to try to be the person who builds, rather than he that simply destroys…we are all works in progress and need to remember that tomorrow is another day, another opportunity to do better than we have before.

It's time for letting go, of all of our “if onlies”
Cause we don't have a time machine.
And even if we did, would we really want to use it?
Would we really want to go change everything?

Cause we are who and where and what we are for now
And this is the only moment we can do anything about.

- Steven Curtis Chapman

My goal is to seize the “miracle of the moment” while it is yet mine.

“A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.” - Dave Barry

Destruction and Rebuilding

Pin It I am a sixth grade teacher and my school recently went through many renovations over the summer. Prior to this renovation, I had to completely disband my classroom and put everything into storage. The room was totally “gutted” as the ceiling was torn down along with the lights, and the carpet was ripped up.

Basically, I found myself no longer the teacher with a classroom, but instead a large, empty, concrete box. It was a lonely and sad feeling to walk into what was once a room in which I’d taught over 200 students over the past 7 years and have it now feel so barren and dead.

The summer passed somewhat quickly and still the box of emptiness remained. I’d go out to the school from time to time to see the advancement of the new sprinkler system as well as the other reformations—anxiously awaiting completion so I could restore my classroom back to how it was.

The weeks passed and still the room remained as it was. Eventually, I stopped going by the school because no progress was being made on the room whatsoever. It was about two weeks ago that I went out the school and still nothing had been done (with the exception of the sprinkler system) the room was still a ceiling less, lightless, carpet less, hapless, hopeless, loneliness pit of despair which I couldn’t stand being in or seeing.

This week I went to my classroom to discover that the lights and carpet had been installed…granted, there was still no ceiling or tile, and there was a huge mess left behind from the workers, but it was a start. As I began to repaper the walls and clean, as well as all of the other little things which made my classroom mine, I found myself feeling overwhelmed. There was simply too much to do and the room seemed so vast. I began to sort through boxes and felt surges of nostalgia upon seeing items from past school years, reminders of the students who’d entered the room and shared in educational experiences for nearly a year at a time.

I left the room today with still a long way to go to be prepared for Back to School Night on Thursday of this week; as I left I felt a certain overwhelmed feeling that anyone who is an educator can understand and who has most certainly felt at one time or another.

Yet, another feeling came to me as well…as I was putting my classroom back together, there was a thrill of newness…a new carpet, a ceiling (which will eventually get done…hopefully, before Back to School Night). As I looked around there was a exhilaration of the possibilities. What will the classroom be like this year? How will it be different? How will it be the same? Here I am given a chance to rebuild what I once had and change it into something more that I want. I also found that this is a prime time for dejunking…I am sure that you know what I am talking about when it comes to dejunking…all of that clutter that takes up our storage space and we keep simply because we aren’t quite ready to toss it…we may need it sometime in the future—granted, I haven’t used any of it in the past five years, but you can never know just when it might come in handy.

In working in my classroom, it is easy to relate this to life. How often have I felt like I had been completely gutted? How many times have I had to “rebuild” myself from scratch? Yes, there are always things to improve upon…things I need to make better and rid myself of…in other words…dejunking. Scrapping all of those things that hold me back from achieving—from making a real and positive difference in the lives of others—all of those things which keep me from being the best that I can be as an individual.

I am far from perfect. Even with the alterations I make to myself from week to week and day to day, I still have a long way to go. There are many things I still have yet to change and need to do, however, like my classroom, they do not all have to be done today. Do I need to have the room completely finished for Back to School Night right this very minute? No. Even on that night does everything have to be 100% complete the way I envision it? No, it doesn’t…I will be making changes throughout my entire life, and these changes, like those in my classroom, do not all have to be perfect and completed right now…