For my mother, on her 60th birthday

I don’t remember the day when I first realized my mom was a woman and not just my mom. Perhaps it was the day that she went shopping for a new suit to prepare for arguing in front of the Supreme Court. Or maybe it was the day I found, in an old photo album, a black and white head shot from her early 20s and almost cried at the image of such a beautiful, stylish woman. Or it could have been the first time we shared a bottle of wine and laughed long into the night.

Probably it is an ever growing realization. She is a strong woman: of that I have never had any doubt. Defense attorneys would tremble when facing her in the courtroom, and she has never backed down from a life challenge. It was in the midst of battling breast cancer that she set the goal of hiking the Grand Canyon, a goal she accomplished less than a year after her last treatment. No doubt about her mental or physical strength.

And her power of negotiation is a wonder to behold. She possesses an unstoppable combination of complex reasoning, pure eloquence, and endearing charm. People not only give her her way, but come away feeling better for having done so. Though it infuriated me as a teenager, I now find myself attempting to emulate her.

But these qualities weren’t the ones that surprised me when I discovered my mother is a woman. In fact, they may have blinded me to her deeper qualities, those closer to the core of her being: passion and tenderness.

My mother, as it turns out, is not only strong, courageous, and determined, but she also pours her heart into the people and things that she loves. Her children have never doubted

for a second that she is on their side, cheering the loudest and crying even more than we do when we lose. Her friends value her intense loyalty and steadfastness, for they know and feel a love that is full and tenacious where it chooses to love. Professionally, she has consistently chosen the path that follows her heart rather than the money, which is why she has laid aside practicing law in order to teach it. And now she pours herself into her students, whether it is accompanying one to court who has been harassed by the justice system, or bringing one who lived thousands of miles from home to her own home and family for Thanksgiving.

I suppose it is natural that one who is so passionate is also tender, but this is the one I forget the most. It is difficult to remember that this strong, powerful woman can be wounded. And so sometimes I slip and say a harsh word, and immediately see the hurt in her eyes. Or I will hear the pain in her voice when she relays the story of discovering that a few of her best students cheated on an exam. What is truly amazing is that each time her heart hurts, she become not colder or more callous. She does not build impenetrable walls around herself. No, she instead becomes more compassionate, loves even more deeply, and continues to extend herself to those around her.

These qualities combine to make the most incredible woman I know. The day that brought her life to earth is to be celebrated indeed, for my mother has made the world a more beautiful, more joy-filled place, and will continue to do so for many years to come.

Happy Birthday mentor, friend, hero, comfort, mom. I love you.

An upper for the teacher

As a teacher, opportunities for celebration, both large and small, pop up everyday. A few highlights from the last couple of weeks:

1. One of my students walked into my room with a shopping bag full of clothes. “These are for D____,” she said, “because I know he’s homeless and doesn’t have anything. I bought these for him. I know what it’s like to be homeless; I was homeless when I was 10. So, would you please give these to him?”
2. All of the statistics are stacked up against one of my students. His parents are unemployed and have absolutely no money. They live with his grandparents, who also have very little. He spent most of last year in prison. But I have watched this young man fight the odds and rewrite his future. He has been one of our most diligent students this semester, and it looks like he’s going to earn our college’s presidential scholarship: a two-year full ride.
3. Finally, all those college science classes are paying off. A couple of my more ambitious students are reading science lessons on their own. They came to me last week and again this week with questions about cellular biology and genetics. Fun to pull that dusty knowledge off my brain’s shelves. Even more fun to watch their eyes light up every time they learn and understand a new concept.
4. On the last day before Thanksgiving break, I substituted at our family literacy program. We’ve teamed up with the local school district for this program. While their children attend a half-day of pre-school, parents (all mothers in this case) attend ESL classes. I taught both the morning and afternoon sessions of ESL on Friday and loved it. These women impress me beyond words. They have undertaken the task of learning a new language and culture in a new country in order to increase their own and their children’s opportunities. They do so not only with great strength and determination, but also with beautiful grace and humor. Spending a day with them lifted my spirits (which were already fairly high) and instilled a fresh sense of hope in me. Oh, plus I got to watch the kids play in shaving cream, and you just can't put a price tag on that kind of fun.

Even as winter approaches new life springs about me everyday. What a very good place to be.

Using the Bible as a rulebook is like using a Monet as a power drill

You won’t get the job done effectively and you risk ruining both the wall and the Monet.

This article is inspired by the recent decision of an appellate court in Texas concerning an arbitration agreement in a contract between a Christian School and a teacher. According to the contract, employees agree to seek “Biblically based mediation” to address employment conflicts.

I’m not going to address the legal aspects here; that’s my mom’s job. What I am going to rant about is the idea that there can be any such thing as Biblically based mediation.

If you think that the laws of our country can be confusing, open to a wide spectrum of interpretation, and at times even contradictory, the Bible, when used as a rulebook, is a million times more so. Consider these facts:

*The Bible has been used to both defend and oppose slavery.

*The Bible has been used to both promote and destroy women’s rights.

*Faithful Bible followers embrace the use of alcohol, even using it in religious ceremonies, while other Bible followers condemn alcohol as an evil tool of Satan.

*Reformed theologian John Calvin, mister sola Scriptura himself, watched on approvingly as a man was executed for heresy. The man’s crime? Suggesting an alternative theory to the nature of the bread and wine used in communion.

*The Bible commands people to “love your enemies,” while also instructing specific groups to annihilate their enemies.

*Biblical law requires that a man who rapes a woman marry that woman.

*The Bible is used by both rich and poor to prove their favoritism in God’s eyes.

So, if you want to risk inconsistent, unjust, possibly oppressive and most likely sexist mediation, then go ahead and sign an employment contract with such an arbitration clause.

If, however, you would like to work toward a life that is life-giving and freeing, appreciate the Bible for what it is- an ancient document containing the history and tradition of many cultures and several people including beautiful poetry, rich tradition, and even some enduring wisdom- and don’t try to use it as something it’s not- a rulebook, life guide, legal standard, or moral ideal.

How do you translate that?

Last week I substituted in our ESL program for the first time. These students are awesome, by the way. They were all eager to learn and hard-working, and they had amazingly positive attitudes.

Ok, back to the lesson. They were learning to conjugate verbs in the present perfect tense, and to help them practice this as well as their listening skills, their instructor left a handout with the lyrics to Pink’s “Glitter in the Air,” with blanks in place of many of the verbs. We listened to the song a few times so that they could fill in the blanks.

After listening to the song twice, we went over the lyrics to ensure that everyone had the right verbs in the blanks. I then asked the class if there were any other words or phrases that they didn’t understand.

One young man raised his hand and asked me about the song’s phrase, “Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?” After I explained the word “gently” he asked, “Why would you cry if someone touched you gently?” A very good question indeed.

I looked over to the women’s table (for some reason they tend to segregate themselves by gender, and all of the men looked clueless) and asked, “Can any of the women answer this question?” One looked at me with understanding in her eyes and answered, “It would make you cry if you had never before been touched gently.”

Yes, that would make someone cry. Yes, that would melt a heart. Yes, that would break something open that needed healing.

And so I started to wonder how many people in the world need to experience a gentle touch that would make them cry; how many people need a gentle word to relax their spirit; how many people need an embrace that feels like home.

The next line of the song is, “Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?”