Friday Tidings

We helped out at our elementary school’s end-of-the-year Field Day. The kids were so excited as they ran to the playfield for the games, but I think my husband was even more excited. He loves competition. As the students lined up in teams, he had them screaming as loud as they could as they cheered for one another. Even though we kept an official score, only one person lost—my husband, because he ended up losing his voice. But it was for a great cause. He wanted these hardworking kids to celebrate. Field Day isn’t about winning or losing, but in finishing another school year. It has been a long haul for these students and their teachers. The final whistle blew and the students ran back to where their teachers waited. I sure admire the teachers. They have done more to help kids in these unprecedented times than we will ever know.  There is also a special teacher-student bond that develops over a school year. I could see it as happy students and smiling teachers crossed the finish l

  I have several of my father’s mannerisms—how I hold my hands while listening to someone talk, my wide-eyed look of surprise, and how I love to smile. I also followed his pattern of writing letters and making daily To-Do lists.  But the one trait I admired most was his ability to be a peacemaker. His management job required it. I wondered if it was something that he learned, or was just part of who he was, but being a peacemaker isn’t easy. There must have been times when it would have been easier to fight. Dad was the Director of Quality for a paper manufacturing company—providing premium products, every time. When products didn’t deliver on time, or were sub-par, he took the blame. That’s a part of peacemaking that didn’t seem fair to me. But his positive attitude helped those he supervised feel secure so they could come to him with problems. He traveled extensively—but his handy To-Do list helped him never miss sending hand written birthday letters and remembering family events. 

As I see the photos of 2022 high school graduates, I salute them. It’s been a marathon and they just crossed the finish line. Congratulations, they deserve to celebrate. Way back in time, I remember being an exceedingly envious high school junior as I watched my older friends march up and get their diploma. I wished it could be me. I was already dreading another whole year of school. I knew it would be the longest year of my life. And it was. My senior year was so busy I didn’t stop to consider it would be my final year on campus. My routine now included filling out college applications, and writing essays for every scholarship I could find.  I learned how to answer the biggest, seemingly most critical question—“What are you doing after you graduate?”  In between the regular classwork, I visited some colleges, and realized school wasn’t going to get any easier.  I barely took notice of my final prom—or spirit week, or any other memorable high school event. I still had my after-school j

This is a tough season in our nation. You already know the reasons. If you’ve reached the grandparent stage, you have even more reasons for concern. But I stopped that concern from becoming a gnawing pain in my gut by remembering my grandparents. They had seen their share of the world’s misfortune, and their own. Yet, when I visited them, they created a sanctuary of love for me. It wasn't a place for worries. It became a place of summertime memories, and holidays filled with smiles.    Now it’s my turn. So much is out of my control in this world of misfortune, violence, and war. But  I can still create a sanctuary of peace like my grandparents did for me. A retreat from the effects of school hassles, homework, and the nagging responsibilities of young adulthood.  I can create a play world for my young granddaughter—keeping her mind on the beauty that is still here — just as I once did for her older brother.   If you’re not as old as I am, and you're in the trenches of parenting