God Sees

A parent at school told me yesterday about a sign she likes. It says: “God sees.” She explained that the connotation is not a negative judgmental one, but that God, our loving Father, sees everything and gazes on us tenderly because we are His children.

Children and I gaze at each other all day. Sometimes, I write down the funny things that happen because it reminds me to delight in them more. They bring such joy to my life. 

Do I see myself as a child of God and think about Him delighting in my life? I meditate on that question more easily when I gaze upon children who make me laugh.

I went into the cafeteria yesterday morning and one of my students walked up to me grinning wildly. I bent down to his level so he could share his excitement.

“Guess what?! My little brother learned how to go number two! He got a special cupcake,” he exclaimed.

Another student’s ears perk up, “Cupcake?!”

… "No, we’re not eating cupcakes at school today”…and “Wow, that is special! Thank you for sharing that news!” (I’m assuming and hoping that the little brother’s known how to go number two; but perhaps he just learned how to do it “on the big boy potty.”)

Another little girl brought in meat counter tickets from the grocery store. I always thought those things were treasures as a child too.

The Kindergarten teacher had a student deliver brown bags for my kids to use in collecting their Valentine’s. I told him to tell her, “Thanks a million.”

He announced in his classroom doorway, so half the first floor could hear, “She said, ‘Thanks a million!’”

Clearly, he’d never heard the expression and wanted to test it out full force.

My white board marker is scented. The students brought supplies in the beginning of the year, and I switched my marker recently. It took me a few days of wondering why my classroom smelled of chocolate near the white board before I read the marker, “Expo Scents Choco Mint.”

Every time I use it, which is multiple times a day, one of my students asks, “Hmm, why does it smell like chocolate in here?”

I might have switched markers…if she didn’t make me laugh every time she said it.

The other delight was this same student’s St. Valentine’s Day gift to the class…chocolate covered marshmallows with a card on top addressed to me, her teacher, “and my chums.”

All my students’ ears and eyes were checked by school nurses yesterday, the day we celebrated St. Valentine’s Day. (The date for this testing was changed because of the snow). My class recognized the fact that it took place yesterday as “a miracle!” because St. Valentine is known for curing a girl who was blind. What are the odds?

God sees. But do I see as He sees? St. Valentine, pray for us!

Last Thursday

Ain’t got a man, but I still got my God. Yea, I cried it out. Then I danced it out. Cause I gotta retrain my brain and remember that God is with me, which means I still have joy.

God, I’m thankful for that man. I understand logically about why it didn’t work. But logic only goes so far. Sometimes I just need…

Jazzercise. And three women in their 60s shuffling on rec center linoleum to old school beats and the instructions of an upbeat Jazzercise professional announcing the moves from stage into her headset microphone.

Thank God for black culture and for the joy it brings my heart.

The soulfulness of those moves – even the low impact ones – enlivened me, as did the witness of those strong women who walked or bused through the ice and snow to get there, not to mention whatever obstacles they overcame at home.

Thank you, Lord, and praise your Name– to the front, back and sides. Now walk it out with me, God. Walk. It. Out.

Acceptance. And Faith. God, You made the whole universe. Are You gonna take care of me? Hmmm. I don’t know. I think God’s on vacation today. Oh, God? He done forgot about you! God? God? Are you there?

Even if I don’t feel it, even if I can’t explain it, even if it hurts to admit it, my God holds me in existence and never lets go. God, You is the BOSS; the MAN; my HERO. You are with me every single nanosecond of the day. Now, why do I question that?

Pain. Suffering. Little things that hurt my heart and make my sensitive eyes squirt some tears. Yet even then, and especially then, You’re totally close to all the shattered pieces of that vital organ – which despite the emotional rubble, bump, bump… bump, bump… is still pumping blood through my veins. You’re still with me. Thank you, God!

How many times, God, do You have to show me Your perfect love…the fact that I had exactly the right amount in my wallet today at the dentist today, or that You surround me with students who make me laugh, friends who walk the life with me, and a roommate with good advice? You show up millions of times each day, if I just had the eyes to see.

My roommate shared one sign of God’s love in her well- timed kernel of wisdom: “Relationships are like farts. If you try to force them, they’re just crap.”

Yes, God, You surely take care of me.

First Grade offered another bowel story.

My class made a “Fisher’s of Men” craft at the end of the day. They put six dots of glue on two popsicle sticks to hold string which would become a net. Most kids finished that step within a few minutes. One child took a bit longer.

Finally, he put the glue bottle down and said, “I’m pooped! That gluing really pooped me out!”

I wanted to laugh then, but it got funnier.

“I think I just gotta move,” he said, and he circled his arms, shook his shoulders and twisted his hips in his seat.

He also moved his fingers, with his arms still outstretched, as if he was playing piano. He really thought that physical movement would undoubtedly help him with the next part of his project – which we won’t do until tomorrow.

Oh, God. If I have You, I still have hope and joy and love and life and freedom and dancin’ and the promise that my dreams and desires will be realized. You put all that in my heart and You ain’t a liar, a fool or a bad dancer…though Your timing is certainly not my timing.

In the meantime, I can recognize the gift of your Presence daily and take the advice of the Deacon at my church: “Praise the Lord while you wait!”

Ow! Sometimes that’s plain hard, but how else am I gonna make it? My roommate also told me that life isn’t a pity party, and yea, that hurts too. But it’s true.

God, when I’m on the floor, dance with me. Life is still an adventure. You are still my Joy.

Help me to trust totally in You.

On the Floor

Sometimes I feel like I’m on the floor of life. Today was one of those days –until a miracle happened. The miracle actually brought me to the floor because I was completely overwhelmed by how God works in my life.

I wrote an article. A long article. An overwhelming article. On an influential man many call a saint.

"The project is too big for me. I can’t do it," I told myself. The reality is, I can’t do it alone. And I am not alone.

My old boss, a newspaper publisher, called me today. I missed the call, and didn’t recognize the number. I didn’t call him back.

The day progressed and I thought about my previous boss when I thought of someone to edit my long, scary article.

First I felt uncomfortable contacting him. We haven’t worked together for five years. I told my roommate and I asked her how far God wanted me to go.

“God wants you to go further,” she said.

Stretching always hurts. Nevertheless, I texted a friend who had his number.

I connected with my former supervisor. And it was a miracle.

See, my old boss drove a friend home today after the funeral of the man about whom I wrote. On the way, this friend told my boss about my article because I had interviewed the friend. My previous employer called me right away because he wanted to edit the story – but I missed his call.

So when I called him later, it was God-designed!

I don’t know where that article’s going. And it doesn’t matter to me. The man about whom I wrote deserves to have his story told, no doubt, but the lesson for me today is God’s providence and my need for humility.

God knew I needed help. And he provided it even before I asked. Then when I asked, it was already waiting for me. Thank you, God. I am overwhelmed by You.

Even when I’m on the floor, you meet me there and bring me closer to Yourself.

Miracles

Many thoughts float through my head daily – some breeze by and I barely notice them; others bring warmth to my whole body, and certain bad ones circle in cyclones and threaten to destroy my peace. Which are the ones worth savoring? The miracles.

People have different thoughts regarding that word – miracles.  

Some people think miracles have to be “big,” and scientifically inexplicable: a doctor sees a tumor mysteriously disappear from a cancerous patient. Some people think miracles can be small, and every-day: a teacher is granted a snow day. And some people don’t believe in miracles at all.

My mom believes in miracles. My first grade class believes in miracles. And when I see their Faith, that helps me to believe too.

My Sister’s Cancer Transformed My Mom’s Faith

My sister was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was in 8^th grade. She had it for less than a year before she died at the age of 6. My mom had prayed that the tumor would go away, but God showed her a different kind of miracle.

My mom thought people would have their Faith restored if they saw my sister cured. When my sister’s health declined to the point of near-death, my mom had another thought: perhaps my sister could perform more miracles from heaven. And God gave my mom the gift of peace.

My sister died on the feast of St. Francis, the peacemaker. Her last words were: “I love.” She had a strong devotion to Jesus and Mary; and the parish priest suggested and permitted her to receive all her sacraments before she died. People would say “I love you” to her and she would always reply, “I love you more.”

After my sister’s death, an alcoholic 20 hours away from my parents’ house, whom my family had never met, prayed to my sister and was cured of his addiction. One woman claimed she had a dream of my sister in heaven. And when my mom and I couldn’t find the keys to an out-of-state rental car after searching the whole thing three times, my sister helped us find them immediately after my mom prayed to her.

Some people would say that these are all coincidences. My mom would say they are miracles. I am happy to meet people where they are and say perhaps both are true, but the latter helps my heart to heal, to feel more deeply God’s presence in my life, and so I choose to believe they are miracles too.

Thank you, God, for the gift of my sister's life.

First Grade Is In Love with St. Anthony

My first grade class has a newfound love for St. Anthony. We recently celebrated his feast day and I made sure to tell them that St. Anthony always finds things when I lose them; he totally loves me.

I told them that I went back to the dollar store where I had bought the United States puzzles I gave them for Christmas so I could buy another one for our classroom. I couldn’t find any left, so I asked the salesclerk. She said shipments came in on Tuesdays, but she couldn’t guarantee that those puzzles were reordered.

I went back to the toy aisle and said, “OK, St. Anthony, where’s that puzzle?”

He found it instantly.

I shared my good news with the clerk; she was happy she didn’t have to sort through Tuesday’s shipment. Of course, my kids had a different reaction, one of delight.

I also told my class about the book St. Anthony found for me when I said I’d give him five seconds (I was in a rush), and an assortment of other items. So, they tried it out (and definitely kept the five second rule...”OK, St. Anthony, I’m giving you five, four, three…)

One of my students found a paper in her desk – that is a REAL miracle, given the state of that desk. Another student found the cap to my dry erase marker after I asked her to go to the Math room to look for it. She searched for a few minutes and came back without it; I asked if she prayed to St. Anthony. She said “no;” she prayed, and came back with the cap in her hands seconds later.

Another student found her glove after she prayed to St. Anthony (I seriously think it just appeared on the table…we looked everywhere for that thing). Other little treasures were found and our faith in this saint, who is really God’s servant, has joyously grown.

Miracles Recreate Me

So who really cares about miracles?

I do.

Why? Because they help me to believe in God, for whom nothing is impossible. God can even recreate me –transform my ugly, negative thoughts into space for Him to move. 

When I begged Him today to free me from the cyclones, I imagined he awoke, jumped off His pillow and told the waves to be quiet, calm and still.

“Why don’t you have Faith?” He asked me: “Did you forget about my little miracles? Did you forget that I am with you?”

“Miracles are signs of my love – kisses from heaven. They are meant to remind you, Beloved, that I am here with you always. Be not afraid.”

God, I believe that You can do anything. Free me from thoughts that steal my joy. Help me to abide in your love today.