A job title does not make a saint

At his site Brainwaves, Jim draws a fine picture of the time consuming aspects of being a special education teacher. As someone who hates paper work I sure made a mistake, but it was more stumbling into a job than a thought out life plan.

I could easily have an ego problem from the list of positive attributes that folk assume I have when I tell them I am a teacher of those with special needs. On more than one occasion I have been called saintly. My wife has a thing or two to say if she is in the room, as do I.

Thursday night was a rough examen of the day. Not acknowledging the anger of finding out that parents night is on the "wrong" date this fall, anxious to get away for a luncheon, overwhelmed by the largest class I have all week, and embarrassed by a phone call telling me one of my students had been using a photocopier in a building where special needs students shall not stray; all led to a less than perfect conversation. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the room the student had fled to and now I was listening. This time I was more mindful. I asked some right questions and then I heard the word trust in my head. I did not stop to rationalize that this student had no reason to trust me at that moment, but I went for it anyway. I asked him to trust that I did not want to see him so upset. I asked him to trust that my anger had subsided and that I would not bring the incident up again in the future. I told him that I trusted him to use the photocopier across the hall in the future. I asked him to trust me.

On Friday I saw him and called him over because this story was not over and I wanted him to make lavender fudge. Yes, one of the beginnings of this story was me handing out samples of lavender fudge made by my cooking club and his request to photocopy the recipe.

I said, "Stop by later because if you want to use that recipe you will need some dried lavender."

When he got back from his field trip, he did. Thursday night I was full of self-condemnation for being less than perfect, but still recognizing something had happened that was positive. Friday, I was just happy that the young man trusted me enough to get some lavender.

If being a saint means being perfect, then I have failed yet again and all those Catholic parents hoping for a Saint Wayne to name their children after, will have to look elsewhere. For me this is a reminder of the trust we can have in a loving God, even when things are not perfect in our world.

gifts of love

What smells better than a Sweet Pepper grown in Lansdale, Pennsylvania

Yesterday I smelled joy. It has been pointed out, that I make a noise of sensual ecstasy when I smell fresh peppers from my garden. At work, I strongly require my students and assistants to take a sniff.

The peppers, the smell, and my noise will hopefully always remind of AC, who worked with me for a year or so and laughed at me every time she heard the noise. Where does this joy come from?

I am thinking of the joy brought out in receiving and giving love. Recently I asked Julian of Norwich to be my guide as I prayed through John's telling of the Samaritan woman meeting Jesus at the well. Asking help from a saint was new ground for me to walk on but every time I turned to Julian she provided me with some insight that took me deeper into the gospel story. Julian shared her visions with us through her writings. The woman who met Jesus at the well shared the messiah with her community.

Then there is the story of Hannah who is loved dearly by her husband but is mocked by his other wife for being barren. She prays so hard that Eli, the priest, accuses her of drunkenness. She pleads with Eli to hear her prayer and not to judge her as a drunkard. God and Eli bless her, and a son is born. In prayer she had promised God this miracle, and she follows through by delivering Samuel to Eli at the temple when she has weaned him.

In all these cases God provides joy and the gift is shared.

In his book, Here and Now, Henri J.M. Nouwen writes: "Joy is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing- sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death- can take that love away."

Ok, so God loves me and I love the smell of peppers. Why is the scent so pleasing? Evolution has taken our brains in a direction that scents produce emotions and apparently causes spontaneous sighs of joy when it is pleasurable. I am loved. God has guided me to garden so now I have peppers and I experience the joy of creation at work and home. But what do I do now with that pepper. What do I do with that great gift?

The pepper shown above was used in making dinner, fake sausage sandwiches as we call them. At work, students get to smell what doesn't exist in grocery stores. Then I send my students out and my co-workers get to buy heirloom veggies grown organically. I have been doing this for eight years now and I try to sell for less than what they would cost at a store. I want the gift that brings me joy to become a bonus and blessing to those who work at and attend my school.

At work on Friday, thoughts of total chaos entered my mind, I could have become scared, negative, and down hearted, but it was time to cook. I led the students across the dry grass to the kitchen and we made brownies with fresh mint, and fudge with dried lavender. One student hated mint, but took a sample anyway. After he darted to a trash can to spit out the mint brownie, I gave him a handful of chocolate chips and told him to hang on, the fudge will be set on Monday.

With five minutes left in the school day, I walked back across the dry grass. We had less flour and chocolate, but we had three 9x13 inch pans of joy. That is when another student came running up to me and said, "Stratz, I have been looking all over for you."

I said, "I bet you have," while expecting the student to make a plea for a brownie. Instead he said, "Can I have a pepper?" I said: follow me. I set down the tray of brownies, and pulled a plastic bag from my fridge. Inside were three peppers and I passed the joy on.