Blind Respect

I’ve been reading "Better Learning Through Structured Teaching" for a book study at work. One of the authors’ assumptions is that when a student responds, he or she “is responding in a perfectly logical manner, given what he or she knows and doesn’t know at that particular moment.” That leaves us teachers to ask ourselves, “What does his answer tell me about what he knows and doesn’t know?”

This assumption speaks of a lot of respect for the learner. It’s very easy to become frustrated with a child’s confusion or inaccurate answers. How can she possibly not get it after all these lessons and work?

“The answer rhymes with meven,” I say.
“Two?” he answers.

I remember when I lived in Iowa and worked with preschoolers. When a child threw herself into her third tantrum of the day, it would drive me crazy! What is her problem? There is nothing going on to suggest a need for all of this crying and flailing! If I switched my mindset , it did worlds of good. Instead of ordering an immediate timeout, I’d take the quick space to think, “This child is communicating important needs right now. What is this telling me about what she needs?” Then, instead of a timeout, we’d role play how to share blocks.

The other day, I felt like I relapsed into the emotionally-charged behaviors I’d like to leave behind. I was acting kind of like a preschooler, actually, and I felt like I ruined what could have been a nice Sunday with Jeremie. My default is to condemn myself. Why haven’t I learned my lesson? Why am I not getting it right yet? Later that night, I put the condemnation aside for a bit and tried respecting myself right where I was. I considered how I acted and the question, “What is this response today saying about what I need?”

An answer came through a story. God reminded me of something Jeremie and I read together recently. In Luke 18:35-43, a blind beggar has an encounter with Jesus.

Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
“Lord, I want to see,” he replied.
Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.”

I wonder, did the blind guy ask for sight right away, or did he go through some layers before he struck his core need? Did he ask for food or money first and as he asked, it suddenly hit him, “Hey! This is deeper than bread or pocket change! I can’t see! ”

In order to ask for your core need, you have to believe that Jesus has the power and the compassion to give you what you ask for.

I put myself into the story.

“Brooke, what do you want me to do for you?”
“I want no more difficult conversations with people, no more panic attacks, and no more counseling, please.”
“Brooke, what do you want me to do for you?”
“Okay, maybe this is about fear. Will you take my fear away?”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Loneliness? No.
Feeling unsafe? Getting closer…..
Jesus, I feel insecure. I want to control everything so I never have to feel insecure.”

(BIG SIGH)
That’s my blindness.

“Brooke, what do you want me to do for you?”
“Lord, I want to be secure.”

It was there that He poured out His heart for me, wrapped me in security that only He can give, and reminded me that He can do all things. Through respecting myself as a learner, I saw God as a loving teacher and a powerful healer. Like the blind beggar, I received sight. Thank You, Jesus.

Taking ‘Em Down By Seats

This afternoon, I accomplished a running goal with a rowing technique. It was wonderful.

When I jog around Green Lake, I sometimes indulge my competitive side by trying to pass every female runner I encounter. I’m not the fastest girl out there, but since no one else knows I’m racing with them, I can eventually pass. Guys are a different story. Even on a good day, all shapes, sizes, and ages of guys breeze by me. Not anymore though.

Pay attention, male runners at Green Lake: your breezy days are numbered. Today, I ran past 3 of you. 3 of you in my general age group, I might add (okay – in full disclosure, 2 of them were running together, but that counts!). What’s my secret? It goes back to my rowing days.

When I was in my early to mid twenties, I rowed with a private club on Lake Sammamish. I loved it. Being on crew teaches you so much more than proper stroke form. Life lessons abound. For instance, when racing, sometimes the most effective way to get in front of another boat is to think incrementally. All eight rowers will be working in unison, giving full attention and strength to each stroke. That’s when the coxswain will start checking off the other boats seats for you.


“We’ve got their stroke,” she’ll call out, meaning that our bow is now right next to their rower farthest to the stern.

We drive away from the foot straps with our legs, and smoothly pull the oars the rest of the way into our rib cages, leaning back slightly.

“Seven seat,” her voice is urgent and clear. We’ve gained another spot.

I am aware of the battle in periphery; my mind stays focused on the cox’s words and keeping my movements strong and seamless. Eventually, we are even with the opposition. Then come the victory seats. We start looking at seats not from the perspective of gaining on them, but on passing them.

“We’ve cleared their bow. GO!”

This is such a thrilling sequence of events to experience. It is so effective too. So, when I decided to pass some guy runners today, I knew from rowing that I couldn’t just whiz by them in a blink. I had to take them down by seats. I saw a guy ahead and made up my mind. Five minutes later, victory was mine! The part I enjoyed most was how assured I felt of being able to complete my goal. I didn’t waver or lag, I just kept up a good pace and mentally coached myself, “You’re taking down his stroke seat… Now you’ve got his bow…”

Is something in your life bringing you discouragement right now? Is there something you’ve tried to conquer, only to repeatedly fail? Or, does something feel impossible? I’ve got those things. I’ve got far deeper stuff going on than running goals. But here’s the thing:

What if you took your problem to Jesus and the two of you took it on, seat by seat?

Anne Prayer

In this world, there are two kinds of people: those who love Anne of Green Gables and those whose sister and mom once forced them to watch Anne of Green Gables. I am a proud member of the first group. As you may know, Anne had a propensity for getting into trouble nearly every day. I remember sitting with my mom, watching Anne blast Mrs. Linde for criticizing her carrot hair, or the time she fell off the ridge pole of Moody’s kitchen roof to one-up Josie Pye. In any given situation, Anne could find an accident. I felt for Anne. She didn’t mean to be the center of so much calamity. Every time I watched the movies, I took comfort in her beloved teacher, Miss Stacy’s encouragement: “Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.”

As I sit on my bed here in the waking moments of my very own mistake-free-tomorrow, I am scared. I know myself. I am liable to make a mistake and tarnish the day before I’ve even left the house. Mistakes creep up on me like that: accidentally annoying my roommate, putzing on my computer instead of doing the Bible study I usually do when I eat my cereal, or stubbing my toe and cursing – even though I haven’t said a swear word in weeks. Heck, I am capable of messing up even when I’m trying to be nice. A homeless man could reject my offer to buy him a cup of coffee. I could make a joke that shames one of my students. Did Miss Stacy think about any of this when she dispensed her tidy counsel?




So here, I offer my Anne Prayer, for those of us who need space to mess up.

Good Morning Lord,
Today, I soak in the awareness, in the grace, of being held in Your ample hand.
Whether I am strong or weak; wise or foolish; proud or humble,
Here I am.
My connection to and place in You is the only thing that matters.
Whether I stand tall or fall flat on my face today, I know that I am undeniably secure on this unalterable foundation of “okay”.
I desire to do what is right and I will let You define what right means today.
I am really glad that I am acceptable today – all day – just because of my location.
Thank You for the death You died that allows me to find rest in Your hands today.
Amen.