Judgment: I’m Guilty of It Too

I’m going to make this post a lot shorter than I originally  intended. Mainly because I’m not quite as heated up about it as I was at the time I wanted to write about it.

A student asked me this week if I would rather have 15 hour days or 34 hour days. I have no idea why those two numbers were picked, but I would definitely rather have the 34 hour days because then I would have more time to do things AND more time to sleep. I see it being a double win!

Anyways, I was part of another conversation on Facebook, a couple different ones I guess. And one thing I noticed is that people were very quick to judge who I was, especially if they didn’t agree with my opinion. I got called a hypocritical vegan, racist, a selfish person, etc. And that’s fine if it were true, and maybe somewhere in my actions, I don’t realize I am slightly those ways, but here is what the people didn’t know, and I called them out on this.

They didn’t know that I’m not a hypocritical vegan. I grew up eating meat. I was vegetarian for many, many years and only went back to eating meat because of getting into bodybuilding and fitness. I then became so miserable that I went to what I thought was only natural and the best for you – vegan. Since then, I’ve educated myself and now refuse to buy anything related to animal products. I research everything and to any of my knowledge do not buy animal-based products, even to the extent I refused to buy a new vehicle with leather in it! I only buy vegan make-up products, self-care products, and even now that my blowdryer just died after 11 years, I’m researching vegan blowdryers. Hypocritical? I really don’t think so…

Now racist and selfishness came in the same conversation with the ever trivial topic of the Syrian refugees. My point was to be careful with who we let in. I wasn’t saying to never let any Syrians in, I wasn’t saying to ban all Middle Eastern people, I was simply saying to be careful. It’s no different with any other race in any other country. I mean, there are WHITE people from North America that have joined ISIS. Am I going to say we should let them come back to our country just because they’re white? Absolutely not. My entire point was to be careful, to do the proper screening so that we can assess who really needs help from those that are actually terrorists that are trying to sneak in, because regardless of whether we like it or not, we live in a time where things like fake passports are easily available, some that are not even distinguishable from real ones. But back to what they didn’t know.

They didn’t know that in high school, I willingly gave up Christmas to go to Peru on a mission trip and give my time, my labour, and gifts to other people much more needy than myself. And no, my parents did not pay for that trip. They may have helped some, but most of that was fundraising and my own high school job that helped pay the thousands of dollars to go and give some more. They didn’t know that throughout high school and university, I spent extensive amounts of time gathering things for those less fortunate, and serving the homeless through things like soup kitchens and simply setting up tables in the middle of the homeless areas downtown for them to come get coats and other warm items to wear. What they didn’t know is that when I see people begging outside of grocery stores or gas stations in need of food or gas money or whatever, I stop and ask what it is that they need and pay for things for them. What they didn’t know was that in university, I was on a Choir trip to California, and the group of us (50+) were walking the streets of San Francisco where a homeless man was holding out a hat for money. Some rude boy walked by (not from our choir) and threw the money all over the ground. The homeless man was disabled and was having an extremely difficult time trying to reach the money. So regardless of how many countless people I saw walk by him, I stopped and picked up the money for him to which he was extremely grateful for and ended up handing me a Christian pamphlet. I will never forget that. What they don’t know is that even though I’ve become much too busy in my life to do as much as I want to help others, my heart aches when I see the disasters and injustices going on in this world. I cry about it. I pray about it. I cannot wait for God to return and wipe out all of the evil there is. Yes, things are not fair and I hate that it has to be that way.

But these are all the things these judgmental people didn’t know about me because they didn’t take a chance to know where I come from. Am I guilty of this sometimes? Absolutely. I will never profess to be perfect because sometimes you make judgement calls in the heat of the moment. But more and more I am consciously trying to take a step back, learn abut the person or situation, and then take a stand. Too often we are too quick to jump on something that we think is right without knowing the whole truth at all.

Take the time to be educated before jumping to conclusions.

Sometimes Your Special Belongings Weren’t Meant to be Yours

Today was primarily a cleaning day. Not of my house, but my classroom. Seriously… you’d think a teacher’s job could be easily conquered and finished right after school’s out, right? Wrong! I’m still not done.

Anyways, I was looking for some cleaning clothing to wear, and decided on jeans and this brown shirt my husband gave me awhile back. On it states, “One Classroom At A Time.” The shirt is actually from a group with a mission of building classrooms in foreign countries, particularly those that have low support of female education, as well as low education ratings overall. It got me thinking about a shirt I once had…

During Christmas Break of my grade 12 year, my sister and I, as well as our youth group went on a mission trip to Peru. We were going to complete a church project, as well as sightsee a little while we were there. We spent months packing little gifts to give to the locals, fundraising, and creating a team name/logo. We called ourselves TYMES (Today’s Youth Missionaries of Edmonton South), and we were fortunate to have a graphic designer as one of our leaders who created these fantastic shirts. It was the only time that name would be used.

Of course we were all very fond of our shirts and took them with us to Peru. We loved our time working on the church and playing with the local children. In fact, we may have gotten in trouble for playing too much… But these kids were the happiest kids. They lived in cardboard lean-tos, knowing they could be kicked off the land at any time. And for the whole community of cardboard living spaces, the children had one ball. That’s it. No extra toys, just one ball. I couldn’t believe it. Rows and rows and rows of these cardboard things, so many children, and one ball. Even the sand had garbage and feces and hair mixed in with it, but these kids still smiled. Wow… that took me a few steps back… You really have no idea how lucky you are until you see firsthand what a third world environment is truly like.

The last day came of our time in this area. The church was completed, and we were attending the very first service with the locals. Of course, our neighbourhood children were there too, sitting on our laps, and just happy for a secure shelter over their heads. Saying goodbye to them was hard. They worked with us, sang with us, played with us, and even taught us a little Spanish. Thankfully, we were able to create big smiles with stickers, pencils, notebooks, lollipops, and little toys. But what really mattered was the extra we decided to give.

I don’t remember who started it, but I’m thinking it wasn’t me. Somebody in our group gave his/her shirt to one of the kids. As I said before, a shirt we were fond of, that would never be printed again. But I knew in that moment, that as special as that shirt was to me, it would mean so much more to these children. Yes, because they were poor and a new, good quality shirt would be wonderful to them, but also because they would always be able to remember the people who came and brought them gifts, even though we had no idea who they were.

It was then that I realized the truth: Everything in this world shall pass. God tells us so. We won’t be taking that shirt to Heaven. I won’t be taking my diamond rings to Heaven. Everything in this life will not be going to Heaven (objects… let me clarify!), but for the time we are here, we can make the most of what we have. Sometimes it will hurt out pride, absolutely. Sometimes, we may never get another chance at whatever item we give away. Sometimes, it may not even change a person’s life like we may have thought it would, but we can only do the best we can with what we have and what we know.

I don’t know if giving my shirt away made a world of difference in the child’s life. I have no idea. But I do know that at that moment, the smile and laughter and hugs I got in return were all that I needed to know for sure my shirt was going to the right place.

Locker Control

At our school, students get their first lockers in grade 5. Which means, by grade 6, when they come to me, they should theoretically be well aware of the proper use of a locker, mainly knowing the proper use of a lock.

Our school rents locks to the students. If they return them at the end of the year, they get their money back. It’s honestly a wonderful system. However, many students seem to forget the fact that locks are supposed to be locked when you’re not at your locker. Locks that are simply hanging there are not protecting your personal belongings. Now, I don’t expect my students to have extremely valuable things in their lockers as I have a classroom safe to keep electronics and other items of high value, but just to ensure their stuff does not go missing, they should keep their locks locked.

It has been such a problem, and students do not let the reminders “sink in”, I have been personally forced to come up with a solution to this problem, and I’m thinking my solution is genius (of course only time will tell).

I am choosing to collect the locks each time I see one that is unlocked. Every locker contains the belongings of two of my students and thus I only have 11 lockers to check. I take the locker, write down the number of the locker, and when I have time while other students are working, these students must show me they can open their locks 30 times. I tell them when they can start, and assure them that if they do not hold up the lock for me to see that it is opened, and I do not write a tick, it did not count.

So far, this seems to be working very well. They seem to almost make a game of it at first, but as some become frustrated and slow down to concentrate, the point seems to be getting across. When one partner is done, the other locker mate must come do their 30 turns as well. It takes awhile, but they sit across from my desk and I make sure to have a piece of paper and a pencil handy and am able to watch my class working and record “tick marks” at the same time. I am also sure to say to the students afterwards that they have now proven to me that they are truly capable of locking and unlocking their locks. So far, I love it.

Only once have I had students leave it unlocked twice, and the result was to do the same thing 40 times. I asked afterwards if he would forget again. He told me no, and so far I have always seen it locked. I will keep you posted on how well this goes!

Bottle Depot – $131

Oh the Bottle Depot… the very name brings back childhood memories of a stinky place where workers – faster than is explainable – twist caps off bottles and sort them into several different piles and bins. It was a place where for some reason, returning bottles made money. As a kid, that was an exciting thing to see!

Many years passed, and I NEVER went to the Bottle Depot. I never drank enough on my own to begin to collect bottles. However, when my husband and I were married, and discovered that our tap water tastes terribly bad, we began buying bottled water and started saving the bottles. Of course, we kept the bottles in garbage bags in the basement so it was out of our way, but we eventually had saved up a huge amount of bags. Naturally, we wanted to take them in to see how much money we profited!

After 29 small-medium sized white garbage bags will with bottles, we profited $131. Not bad! Of course the timing is important because the government has only given us one week’s notice to come up with $500 to pay the next immigration fee. So this $131 is a help!

What are your thoughts about the Bottle Depot?

A Childish Lesson We Can All Benefit From

If you were like me, you always accompanied your parents to church. You were always told that Jesus loves you, even singing the very song. As you got a little older, you were told to always stand up for Jesus, stand up for your beliefs. You are told to fight your temptations, to say “No” in the face of Satan, to constantly ask yourself, “What would Jesus do?”.

I didn’t go through this next stage, but I watched many of my friends, many of the people I knew go through this next stage, and that was the rebellion. Friends that were tired of being told the same things over and over again. People that felt forced into religion, not accepting Christ as their own Heavenly Father. This stage unfortunately can last a little too long, especially with the wrong guidance and relationships at this time.

I am thankful to say that quite a number of my friends who started in the church have returned to the church. Although they may have deviated for awhile, the verse holds true. Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it”.

Sometimes I look at little children and admire their naivety; their ability to know black and white what is wrong. The kids who are EXCITED to go to visit Jesus in His house that they’ve learned He’s preparing for us. Kids are excited about Jesus, excited about His miracles, excited about getting to live with Him. What happened to us adults? Where did our excitement go? I don’t know about you, but I want to be excited about Jesus like that! I want to just look forward with absolute impatience of going to my Father’s house. I want to scream that I love Jesus from the top of my lungs while jumping on my bed (well, maybe I’m too old to jump on the bed… but still). I want to stand up for Jesus in the face of Satan no matter what! I want Satan to grow tired from my lack of response to his old tactics. I want to be an indestructible child of God, just as I watch the little children fearlessly love Jesus with all their hearts. Sometimes we need to learn from them!