Paying Tribute

I've been a special educator for 30 years, and I really do prefer the term "special educator" best. It describes what we do, and it describes who we serve; they are both special. The inspiration for my career was a very special cousin of mine, 30 years my senior. Davis was born with significant physical impairments and never attended school. His limited capacity to walk and talk in no way limited his capacity to bring joy to everyone around him. As a young child, I remember saying to myself, “Davis is trying to tell us something.” I remember thinking, “If only he could talk, we’d find out just how much Davis knows.” I remember wondering, “Davis is so happy. How can that be?” He was so clearly bright. He understood conversation. He tried to join in. He would get so excited at being in a room with people. His inability to speak left you wondering just what was going on inside that head of his. Yet no one ever wondered what was going on inside his heart. He was bright, in a way that lit up a room whenever he walked in wearing a smile that no disability could ever stifle. When you saw that smile you saw pure joy, joy that I pray each of us can experience in this life.

Upon his recent passing at the age of 81, tribute after tribute attested to this joy that transcended reason in light of his circumstances. Had Davis been born in this day and time, his life would have been different. He would have gone to school. He would have had access to technology to communicate all that was in his head, and more importantly, all that was in his heart. Somehow or other, it seems appropriate to me that this career I have loved so should draw to a close in the same year of Davis's passing. That passing has caused me to reflect on my desire to contribute to making life better for people with disabilities, a desire that I recognized as a teenager and stayed true to for all these years. I believe I have contributed in some small measure, so it is with gratitude for the opportunity that I retire. Though I go, my love for our work and the people we serve remains with those who carry on, and it remains in my heart.

Be Encouraged

1 Thessalonians 3 (NIV)
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Thessalonians+3&version=NIV

I've been thinking a lot about my daddy lately. Maybe it's the fact that Father's Day was coming up. Maybe it's the fact that a major milestone in my life is about to happen, and I can't share it with him. Maybe it's that I have more than a little fear that I won't know who I am or what I'm to do with myself without work. More likely I just need him here to be my biggest cheerleader and tell me that God's got a plan, and it's going to be alright!

We all need encouragement from time to time. The apostle Paul was the great encourager. He knew the value of it both in the giving of encouragement and in the receiving. He established churches on his missions and then he moved on. But in the moving on he left a piece of his heart with these newborn Christians and carried with him a love so deep he was compelled to hear from them and be with them again. Paul was like a father, a spiritual father, and those who believed at his preaching and the prompting of the Spirit were his children. Paul's desire was that they grow up in the faith, know God more fully, and be found holy and blameless at His return. He wrote to them. He pined for them. He prayed for them. He felt sorrow in their absence and joy in their successes. They were indeed the glory of his being. He was indeed their biggest fan. Sounds like a father to me!

This week, I’ve thought so much about my own daddy. When I left home after college, we had a ritual. We would talk every morning before I went to work, and every night before bedtime, just to say everything is all right, I’m heading to work or going night night, and most importantly, I love you. Saturday mornings those calls were made a little later. The last Saturday morning of Daddy’s life here on earth, I didn’t get to have that conversation. He and Mother had gotten out early to do some work. So, when I called I didn’t get an answer. I don’t know how many times I called just because I needed to hear from them, to hear that all was well. All was not well that day, but today, I know it is.

I’m so thankful for all the things he taught me in his short 54 years—how to sing, how to ride a bike, how to milk a cow (although I never really got the hang of it), how to drive a straight drive, and how to live life as a Christian—all the while encouraging me and cheering me on. I’ve stumbled; I've fallen; I’ve crashed and burned. But each time, by the grace of God, I’d get back up, and learn from the experience and move on. That’s something Daddy taught me too.

I think he’d be proud of me today—my career, my love for my husband, how my sister and I have taken care of Mother, how we've taken care of each other. He’d be happy for my retirement, and I believe he would be especially pleased by this blog post (although he wouldn't get the technology and neither do I). He would love me telling all of you about his impact on me as a godly father and a godly man. I love him dearly, and I love God more. I can hardly wait to be with them both!

Be encouraged one and all. You have a heavenly father who is your biggest fan.