A Little Slice of Life

"Sure could use a little good news today," song lyrics Anne Murray sang long ago. A little good news can go a long way. The good news in my life came in the form of a host of young people and a friend helping me with a move from one house to another. They showed up. They helped. They were cheerful and willing. They refused payment. They were polite and in good spirits. A task I was dreading was much less difficult with the assistance of these young people.  Some came one day and others came another day, pickup load by pick upload, the job proceeded. In all, six young men helped me out, three I didn't know before hand. And they were wonderful.

 I was thinking about the goodness of people. It is so easy to label young people,to discredit them as a group by seeing them as self-centered me-ists.  But, if truth be told, we are all sort of me-ist people.  I was grateful for their help, appreciative of their unselfishness, thankful that the task was completed with ease. What could have been overwhelming. . .was not!

Finding this little bit of good news makes me want to say:  Don't lose faith in the young people of today. Help them, encourage them, engage them in conversation, show an interest in them, learn about their world, give them a small piece of you in a way that they can grasp and handle. find out what matters to them and go with it. As we drove back and forth between houses, I had such interesting conversations with these young people, we talked about the real things of life. . .learning disabilities, home dynamics, gangs and lockdowns, school stuff, even spiritual turning points.  Not boring in the least.  I enjoyed the dialogue, a rich and meaningful slice of life.

Look for the good and you just might find it.

Spring's Miracle

An elderly woman once said to me, "I wonder how many more seasons I will get to enjoy?"  That was a few years back. Her seasons have ended now. But, her friendship is one I look back on and miss.  She was one of those key people in my life, someone who entered my life as a gift from God.  She was not afraid to tell me the truth when I needed to hear it. We met first as neighbors back in 1986. This woman was fortunate. Life blessed her with eighty-nine seasons.  I often think about her remark.  Ten, twelve, twenty. . . thirty more spring seasons? 

As each season passes it enters my thoughts.  How many more (springs, summers, autumns, winters) will I get to enjoy? Like she did, I anticipate and enjoy the seasonal changes. I observe and cherish the Earth's re-birth. . . .its regeneration. . . .its growing. I like the Earth's time of producing. . . .its bounty. . . .its time of giving. . . .it's harvest. I like the Earth's time of resting. . . .its time of waiting. . . .of renewal. . . .its quietness. . . .and it's storm, rain, and weather patterns. 

About the time I am growing weary of the cold weather; it happens, and the pattern starts all over again---a beautiful miracle occurs, all part of a great plan of the cosmos, the celestial sphere, and of the intelligent Master Designer.  A song comes to mind, one from my childhood which I learned at my Grandma's house standing by the piano bench as she sang its words and with grace and skill rolled the chords from bass to treble cleft.  The miracle of spring's rebirth was in its words.

            "My Heart Believes in Miracles
My heart believes in miracles, a mystery of God, 
My heart believes in miracles, When grass breaks through the sod; 
The changing seasons come and go, The balmy breezes blow,
The breath of Spring and birds on wing, O I believe and know;
The singing bird, the honey bee, The rivers flowing out to sea;
The bursting bud, the tow'ring tree, Are miracles we all can see!" 

These beautiful lyrics were penned in 1960 by my grandmother, Faith S. Weigold. They are floating through my head as I write them from memory.   Aptly, they express her love for the growing things of the earth. Her 1930s house was surrounded by a glorious bower of plants and vegetation, fruit trees and lilies in the sleepy town of Glendora not far from the shadow of the mountain in southern California.  Her love for God was like a wellspring, a golden touch that graced everything she did.  I don't believe I ever was at her home without there being a newly picked sprig of flowers or ferns arranged in the antique wall vase hanging next to her vintage piano. I never thought much of it during my childhood or even in young-adulthood just how unique her vision for living enhanced the lives of those around her.  Grandma understood the deeper meaning. Her eyes could see the grandness found in the natural world' she would celebrate its presence even when there were troubles, those times when she found herself in the midst of trials and challenges. Grandma's perspective included the rough and raw parts of each season.  She had experienced these many times ever since her youth when her mother died and she grew up too fast, responsible for her younger siblings.

"A life can change from cruel pain, Like sunshine after rain;
My heart believes in miracles.  Oh! I believe and know."

The lyrics to the song were borne out of a time of heartache. Grandma shared about the writing of this song, My Heart Believes in Miracles, she had written for a musical program back in 1990. 

"I had been greatly burdened for my second daughter, who was under much anxiety, which caused her great physical and mental suffering until she became very depressed---so much so that she didn't seem like her usual happy self. I feared for her physical condition. I prayed and prayed that God would perform a miracle. I KNEW that He could and I felt that it had to be! And praise God the answer came.  Isn't it strange how we shrink from trials? And yet, it is out of those trials that God is trying to lead us onto a higher plateau and drawing us closer to Himself."

Spring is here. I am jazzed!  The lilacs are starting to bloom.  The wind is blowing.  A kite day is around the corner.

I wonder how many more seasons I will enjoy?  All I know is that I will enjoy each season when it arrives.  I will celebrate its arrival and be thankful for its exodus!  It is a beautiful day in God's kingdom.

 

Music reflection back

Beautiful hymns are an indicator of times past. The hymns I grew up with have a beauty all of their own. I find that they are most meaningful when sung with attention to their words. Some have lyrics of great theology and awe for GOD if one turns their heart toward the language of their writing. I think it is interesting that one can also tell a lot about the writer's beliefs in God, reverence toward God, hope in God, and relationship with God by the depth and content of their presentation and how the lines are arranged together. Often, the tune was added after the words were written.

Some hymns have the power to deliver meaning to the soul like a devotional writing, uplifting and true. This afternoon, a gathering at  my parents' home took place...all people in their eighties and nineties except my sister and me.

After a potluck meal, the music began. Besides my sister on the piano, there were two violinists, one flutist , a harmonica player, a wooden flute -type recorder were played by these sweet aging saints, their physical limitations showing the wear of time. This small band of musicians accompanied the rest of us as we sang hymn after hymn from church hymnals, old familiar songs came back to us like water rolling down an embankment.. Very natural. Truly lovely. I find I like the old songs in their old state without alterations to their rhythms or speed...they retain their grace, beauty, and majesty when left unaffected by the pressure to become modern in taste.

Old school has its place at times, although I adapt, one has too. I was glad for today, to remember the songs that speak of a great God and sung and accompanied by people getting closer toward the Promised Land. As we sang, these gentle elderly people would comment after we finished a song, expressing their joy received in singing these meaningful words that encourage and comfort. A small foretaste of Glory. Amen

It gives me pause. A moment of silence

A former colleague of mine passed away this week. He was too young, too vibrant, too gifted, and too loved to leave this world. He told me last year that he was planning to teach one more year then put up the teacher plan books and enter retirement, with lots of time for his grandchildren and family. I am in shock. I wish it wasn’t so, that he had decided to retire last year. Life is a mystery. We must be grateful for each day we enjoy. We must be thankful for all the people in our lives that mean so much to us. We must not treat our days as insignificant, although we often do.
Each moment is a gift. A moment we will never live again.
Lui, you will be missed.

A  TRIBUTE  TO  LU’I  TUATO’O

T

EACHER

NO one could dance—like Mr. T.

NO one could smile—like Mr. T.

NO one could get a group of Seventh and Eighth graders to clap, tap, side-step, swing, and drum in faultless rhythm—like Mr. T.

HIS students could tell he cared, that he desired their academic growth and for them to be their best as productive people—This was a gift he gave to his students.

C

OLLEAGUE

AS a staff, we could count on Lui to ask clarifying questions—You know this if you’ve been to a staff meeting, and these often helped us, too!

I think Administration usually knew where Lui stood on the latest and best new expectation—He wasn’t one to keep quiet. . .He spoke his mind.

AT times, Lui would commiserate with some of us about the next teacher observation or  — You fill in the blank . . .  But, he came through, always.

AS teachers and staff, we had our own opinions—But we could always find common ground, ways to laugh or relate or understand each other. He was one of us!

F

RIEND

Lui liked to tease; he could be found teasing his students, teachers, the office personnel, and administration—Well, I guess, just about everybody! Thanks for this!!!  Sometimes we can take ourselves too serious. . .

LUI made sure to come by and say words that would encourage us—at just the right time when we needed it; several of us experienced this in our interactions with him over the years.  Helping things seem just a bit better.

HE stopped by my room on my last day of teaching to wish me well in my future endeavors—He said he would be following the same path in the next year or two. I am sorry this will not be. I wish it could and sad that it won’t.

F

AMILY

Lui loved his family—He was crazy about his grandchildren, just you ask him; his smile and twinkle in his eyes could light up a room!

IN his heart, his family was what it was all about—His happiness in being with them, his cheerfulness when they came into the conversation, and his plans and activities with them at the center. We can only imagine the depth of your loss.

…

The school family at Hamilton Elementary will miss him.

Forever he will be our teacher, colleague, and friend.

“Mr. Tuato’o” - “Mr. T.”  - and “Lui”

 February 3, 2012
NLBW

End note:  The graveside service was beautiful. Mary Tuato'o, Lui's wife was the MC.  She, and Lui's daughter spoke lovely tributes about his life and his love for them and others. His brother prayed a gracious prayer. Several of the family were in uniform. Lui's faith was touched on and also the accomplishments, becoming an American citizen, the first to receive a college degree in his family, his accomplishment at becoming a teacher. There were many tears by family, friends, and students, both past and current. A recording was played of his family singing Samoan hymns. They sang and I was touched. He was sixty.