Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A Good Place to Be

The human body is an interesting thing. Women are always looking for ways to make theirs more appealing, more "beautiful." We often compare ourselves to other women, usually picking out their "perfect" physical qualities, wondering why we don't look like that. I noticed myself comparing my body to that of another girl I've been acquainted with for a few years. This girl has long, blonde hair, she's beautifully skinny, and her face is completely "perfect-looking." It seemed to me as if people would completely ignore me to go talk to and hang out with her. She doesn't treat me very well sometimes, and I wished people would see that part of her and stop ignoring me. I wished I looked more like her so that people would notice me more.

When I was biking home from Institute one day, I was thinking about her, a little jealous and being hard on myself for not being more physically appealing. For some reason, I thought about some of the good things about my body and started making a list in my head:
  • I have some fat on my body, but it's more to love
  • my muscles are pretty strong
  • my body can keep up with me and the stupid things I do
  • I have a really strong immune system
  • how many people can say that they got hit by a car and didn't break a bone or need surgery or anything, and was sent home in a moon boot, a sling, and told to take ibuprofen?
The list just went on. I then asked myself, 'How many of these things can the girl I'm comparing myself to say? I mean, yeah, she's perfect-looking, but does she get sick all the time? Do her bones break easily? Etc.' I then thought to myself, 'Would I give up all these good things about my body to be better looking?' I decided that I wouldn't; I realized how much I really do love my body, and that I wouldn't trade it for anything. My body was made by a perfect God, and it was made with love just for me. My body, having been made by Someone Who is perfect, is perfect just the way it is, and the other girl's body was made perfectly for her. Why wish for something that isn't good enough for me?

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Jeremy's Egg

I found this really ~GREAT~ story the other day called 'Jeremy's Egg':

Jeremy was born with a twisted body, a slow mind and a chronic, terminal illness that had been slowly killing him all his young life. Still, his parents had tried to give him as normal a life as possible and had sent him to St. Theresa's Elementary School.

Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy irritated his teacher.

One day, she called his parents and asked them to come to St. Theresa's for a consultation. As the Forrester's sat quietly in the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five-year gap between his age and that of the other students!"

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue while her husband spoke. "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."

Doris sat for a long time after they left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forrester's. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read or write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. "Oh God," she said aloud, "here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared with that poor family! Please help me to be more patient with Jeremy."

From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him "I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loudly enough for the whole class to hear. The other children snickered, and Doris's face turned red. She stammered, "Wh-Why, that's very nice, Jeremy. Now please take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. "Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller!" the children responded enthusiastically – all except for Jeremy. He just listened intently, his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh, yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground we know that spring is here." A small girl in the first row waved her arms. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.

The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and turns into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that is new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine." Next Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that the moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom. "My Daddy helped me!" he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty! Surely, it must be Jeremy's, she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "but Jeremy - your egg is empty!" He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty too!" Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then his Father raised him up!" The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away. Three months later Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket...................all of them empty.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

communication

Communication is a funny thing. People tell stories, ask questions, and give responses, and we just assume that the people we're communicating with understand what we're trying to say, just as we assume we're saying it in a way so that they will. But are we really understanding each other? When we realize that there's been a misunderstanding, there's usually feelings of embarrassment and wondering if the other person trusts or even likes us anymore.

I had one such experience about a month ago. I called and talked to my Visiting Teaching companion because she knows the person better than I do, and I was curious as to know how to communicate with this sister better. She lovingly asked me a question that was posed to her when she was a teenager: "Are you really so self-centered as to think that the other person is thinking about nothing but you and this problem, which might not even be a problem in their eyes?" After some thought on my part, she asked me another question: "Are you really worried that she doesn't trust you anymore, or is it YOU who doesn't trust HER?" After some thought, I realized that it really was me who didn't trust her; I had heard this sister ask me things in a completely different way than she meant them, but the questions she asked me and how she asked them really did sound to me how I interpreted them. I felt like I couldn't trust how this sister asked questions.

Did I misunderstand how she was asking me questions, or was it really the way she asked? We may never know. All we can really do when miscommunication happens is analyze how we're feeling and realize that it might really be US and not THEM with the problem, the awkwardness, the embarrassment.