Men of Goodwill

I have a friend, Jason, who has three noteworthy talents.  Wait, that came out wrong.  Sorry, Jason.  He has many noteworthy talents, but three in particular that I greatly appreciate.

1. He orders well off the In N Out secret menu.

2. He can play pretty much any instrument just by looking at it.

3. He picks out the most perfect music for me, music that I wouldn’t normally give a second glance to.  Then he points it out and lo and behold the songs he suggests are now all of my favorites.

That third one may actually verge on the side of superpower and it’s that talent/superpower that brings me here today.

A few weeks ago Jason tweeted about loving this Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth mash-up that Bing Crosby and David Bowie sang together.  Rub your eyes all you want, you read that right.

Bing Crosby.

David Bowie.

Singing.

Together.

When I read Jason’s tweet, my eyes rolled so hard they almost got stuck, which would have been terrible because moms all over the world would have rightfully let out a global, “I told you so.”

My eye roll was impeded by a teensy niggling thought.  Jason always recommends brilliant stuff.  But David Bowie and Big Crosby???  No.  Just no.

So with my eyes set on auto roll and my scoff turned on high, I watched the video.

And then I swallowed my scoff back down past the lump in my throat and my eyes were too busy blinking back tears to even think of rolling.

The sorrow of the Newtown shooting was still a bleeding wound, soaking through my days in the classroom and staining my pillow with nightmares.

So when David Bowie sang these lines, I found myself weeping and echoing his prayer.

I pray my wish will come true for my child and your child, too.

He’ll see the day of glory,

See the day when men of goodwill live in peace,

Live in peace again.

Many Christmas songs wish goodwill to others, like goodwill is a thing to be gifted with a plate of cookies.  I stopped in my tracks at the phrase “men of goodwill” because as it turns out, all this time goodwill is something to be, not to have.

I get that it’s a Christmas song and that you’re on an eleven month sabbatical from Christmas music, but that verse has been loping in my head for the last few weeks as my little ones and I studied Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his call for all of us to be a people with spirits devoted to equality, a people with minds set on peace, and a people with hearts pulsing with goodwill.

This Monday as we honor Dr. King, his words will ring in my heart and in a surprising twist, David Bowie and Bing Crosby will be singing the soundtrack that plays in my mind as I seek opportunities to be a woman of goodwill.

Thankful Thursday #86

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This week I’m thankful for…

  • this graffiti heart That Laura and I came across on a walk home from lunch
  • teaching my little ones about Martin Luther King, Jr.
  • the shooting star I saw while soaking in my spa
  • the little one who said my new haircut, “looks just like Justin Bieber’s hair.”  Um, thanks?
  • parent volunteers
  • the sounds my hubby makes in his sleep
  • reading the Bible in chronological order-fascinating way to read it!
  • my new bike (but that’s a story for another day.

Thankful Thursday #85

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This week I’m thankful for…

  • Christmas Eve service
  • listening to my hubby read the Christmas story on Christmas morning
  • homemade fudge
  • time off with the hubby
  • walks on the river trail on frosty mornings
  • the smell of my Christmas tree
  • lasagna in the Crock Pot
  • sleeping in
  • a fresh haircut
  • warm clothes straight from the dryer
  • snow
  • the blog The Middlest Sister, which had me laughing out loud in obnoxious guffaws and snorts

Dreaming of Africa

It’s been an incredibly sad and somewhat scary week to be a teacher.  I haven’t been sleeping very much this week, three to four hours a night at the most.

Last night I slept soundly and dreamed that I returned to Uganda.  Uganda has been on my heart so much lately.  In truth Uganda and my children there have been on my heart since I stepped foot on the plane back to California last July.

I miss my beautiful Ugandan sons with such acuteness that often it’s a physical ache in my heart.

In my dream I was on an airplane descending through the clouds.  When the clouds cleared, I looked out my window and Uganda was spread out beneath me.  But the landscape wasn’t trees and dirt, it was a painting alive with color.  Blues and oranges and greens purples and pinks all teeming with life.

I recognized the artist of the painted land out my airplane window right away.  Somehow Tricia Kibler, the amazing artist who comes and teaches my little ones (including her son) art lessons every month, had managed to paint the whole of Africa.  I love that things like that seem completely ordinary in dreams.

The splendor of the painted landscape took my breath away and in my dream I began to cry.

My alarm clock woke me and I was surprised to find myself wiping real tears from my eyes.  I stood at my bedroom window watching the snow fall, the white world a transfixing juxtaposition to the vibrant Africa of my dream.

I sent Tricia a message telling her about my dream.

Last night I had a...

Little did I know that just minutes before I’d messaged her, she’d begun to dream up a painting of Africa for me.

This afternoon she brought me a Christmas present and when I unwrapped the painting, I cried for Africa for the second time in the day, this time not just for the beauty of my dream, but for the very real ways God sends assurance that I will return.  As Christmas draws near, I’m especially grateful to love a God who speaks to my broken places in such tangible ways.

Dreaming of Africa by Tricia Kibler
Dreaming of Africa by Tricia Kibler

Thankful Thursday #84

Image courtesy of polish-my-crown.com
Image courtesy of polish-my-crown.com

This week I’m thankful for…

  • snow
  • slumber parties
  • time with the hubby
  • making Sweetmilks for breakfast
  • the rogue tree that is growing in my backyard
  • the grandfather of a kindergarten student who gave all the teachers at my school heavy-duty staplers
  • writing winter poetry with my little ones
  • the brave faculty at Sandy Hook Elementary
  • the fact that all 30 of my little ones are safe and sound