Myla

I met Myla in 2007.  We were among 100 teachers chosen to train and act as literacy coaches - teachers who were to help teachers do their jobs better and more easily. From the first, her soul shone through her sweet eyes and her razor-sharp intelligence cut through to the heart of what teachers do: create with love and work harder than anyone else on earth for the sake of their students.  That year she also discovered that she had ovarian cancer.  And we all know what that means.  But I remember with absolute clarity her exact words as we talked about her situation.  "All will be well."

And all was well.  She received treatment, her children rallied around her, she lost her hair, and she continued to work with the students she loved and with those of us who were blessed with her presence.  After the first round of chemo, as her hair began to regrow, we all bought tiny barrettes and wore them as a sign of solidarity and support and love.

This isn't a happily-ever-after story - but it's a story of great joy.  Myla has gone on before us.  But every year Facebook let's me know that November 13th is her birthday, a time to celebrate.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, while sorting through a box of odds and ends, I came across that tiny green barrette.  And I felt Myla's presence and knew she was right: all is well.

Compromise

We've recently survived two weeks of political conventions.  Perhaps more than any other time in my memory, the murky difference between truth and fiction has been blurred.  Statistics may be - and have been - skewed to mean whatever the publisher wants them to.  So, more and more, I've been contemplating what place compromise has in our system of governance.

We must compromise with others to get along in the world.  But that doesn't mean compromising who we are, who we've been, who we hope to be.  Obfuscating past stances belies basic principle.  I think of Mitt Romney's approach as the governor of Massachusetts to universal health care, which he now seems to deny.  And yet Massachusetts folks appear to be quite content with this paradigm - a structure strikingly similar to "Obama-care."  I think of the funds both parties want to deduct from Medicare - in very different ways - and Ryan's denial that his plan makes the same deductions as does the Democratic approach - with different outcomes. These compromises impinge on principles like honesty and clarity.

In contrast, compromise in terms of issues may be defined as moving a step to one side or the other of a topic to accommodate other points of view.  We need to be very clear about this.  Recognizing that our fellow citizens may have valid perspectives that differ from our own is important to our political system – and to our lives together as human beings. If our candidates are being held hostage by those whose votes they want, if those who govern our country have no room to change and grow, we cannot progress as a culture.  I fear for our country if we - and our governing bodies - cannot or will not differentiate between principle and issue.

Sticks and Stones

Some thoughts on reading this morning's paper:

In an editorial a writer calls those who advocate banning the sale of automatic weapons "anti-gunners."

Larry Pittman, a member of the the North Carolina House of Representatives, labeled Planned Parenthood a "bloody, indecent, immoral organization."

It's nothing new, but our cultural tendency to alienate others by bashing those who disagree with us rather than to discuss disagreements civilly is not one of our more endearing characteristics.  If there weren't good reasons on both sides of an issue, there wouldn't even be an issue.  Our political discussions have devolved from being the art of the possible or the art of compromise to sophomoric name-calling.  Sad.

And Back Again

I never imagined that just steering a boat could be so challenging.  On our recent trip to England as we traversed the Severn and Avon Rivers we discovered that the physical demands (standing at the tiller, maintaining the water supply, checking the engine daily, operating unmanned locks) were demanding. For one thing, the boat was 44 feet long and weighed around 15 tons, a lot of vehicle to manage.  Then there were the emotional demands (overcoming a fear of weirs, dealing with surprises along the way, compensating for upstream vs. downstream, mechanical breakdown, the sheer immensity of the rivers and the power of the water).   I freely confess that at times I was terrified, exhilarated, uneasy, anxious, proud.

In retrospect I see this experience as a trial of our individual and corporate mettle.  It may not have been a vacation in the sense of relaxation, but it sure was an accomplishment.  And I'm proud of us all for doing it successfully.  Thank you, Tracey and Jamie, for a marvelous experience!

Pushmi-pullyu

Do you remember the story of Dr. Dolittle?  If you do, you likely also remember the Pushmi-pullyu - a sort of two-headed llama who was never sure what direction to take. How like all of us as we try to figure out our lives. What's the best path?  I'd like to, but...  Stay or go?

Decisions...decisions...decisions.

Black Dog

Winston Churchill called it the black dog in the corner - that sudden dark mood that springs out of nowhere and overtakes one's world.  I think he said it well, certainly describing the experience better than the sterile scientific term: clinical depression.

The scientific approach sounds so cold - as though emotional pain is just a condition to be addressed analytically and coolly.  But those of us who struggle with the black dog know that it takes some whispering, some empathy, some understanding to overcome the darkness. Bless the listeners of the world for their willingness to do just that.

Looking Back - And Moving On

We attended a 30th anniversary party last night - but rather than honoring two people, this party honored hundreds.  The celebration marked the 30th year that the UNC-Greensboro Summer Music Camp has operated.  The brainchild of Dr. John Locke, the camp has enriched the lives of 57,000+ young musicians over the years and last night was a celebration of that mission.

Fred was a part of this effort from the outset, and last night he and 37 others were inducted into the Hall of Fame for their contributions.  What a wonderful gesture - and well deserved.  It warmed my heart to see all the recipients honored in this way - and struck me as particularly meaningful for Fred just as he's transitioning from ministry back to music.

And in the midst of all the plaudits and success stories came the memory of the very early years, when a few of us met for pizza and beer after sessions.  What wonderful times - and their memory was enriched by encountering so many of Fred's former students - now successful, committed teachers.  They continue to pass on the love of music and others, a legacy passed on from their own teachers.  I am so grateful for their efforts, which add richness and meaning to the lives of our children - and so to us all.