Last week a local middle school needed some work done on some system or another and called in a specialty repair/cleaning crew.
While working on the system in the area of the custodians' office they had reason to move out the computer keyboard. Behind the keyboard they found a handgun.
They immediately reported the find to their supervisor who advised the school authorities who called the higher-ups at the school corporate offices who immediately met with the custodian.
The janitor told the administrators that he had inadvertently driven to work with the gun in his truck. When he realized that he had the gun, he brought it into the school and hid it for the day intending to remove it and take it back home that evening. He is fully licensed to carry the weapon and was certified in gun safety.
This is where the story gets very interesting....
The custodian immediately resigned his position saying he knows that parents and school officials will have a hard time trusting him in the future to be around students.
Read that last sentence again.
Instead of trying to justify his actions, instead of claiming that he did nothing wrong, instead of insisting he is a victim of vindictive school personnel,instead of suing the school system for harassment or unlawful termination, he resigned.
Just like that.
Regardless of what you believe about gun-control laws, or how you feel about a person who has a weapon yet apparently doesn't keep track of it all that well, I think the message here is one we should all learn.
When you make a mistake, own up to it.
When you make a mistake, think about the impact that mistake will have on others.
When you make a mistake, quickly make every effort to 'make it right.'
I like this guy. And in a world made up of millions of folks with no moral compass, I applaud him.
And that's what I think about it.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Randomness - Bits and Pieces of Life
"Move to Indiana," the kids said. "We have mild winters," they said. The weekend we moved the area got hit with 19 inches of snow...with only three road scrapers in the county. That was ten years ago. Last week the temperatures dipped to -7 degrees, with a windchill of -14. Granted it was cold all over the country but it did bring back memories of their words that lured us to southern Indiana.
The lure was the family but I like to 'awful-ize.'
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Kat Karson now knows four tricks. He can High Five, Lay Down, Jump Up, and Get His Own Treat from the can of treats on command. Jim has promised that if I can teach him to roll over he (Jim) will reward me with a trip around the world. I am working hard on this ultimate goal.
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The grandchildren have scattered. It wasn't that long ago that they were a gaggle of little girls, dressed alike with huge hair bows who linked arms and hands and went everywhere together. The oldest has a college degree, a job, and apartment, and a boyfriend. The next has has a college degree, a job, an apartment, and a husband. The next is starting her second semester at Indiana University. Her twin has an job, an apartment, a boyfriend, and a new course of study in Indianapolis. Their grandmother has a photo prominently displayed of four little girls in white dresses with pink sashes and huge hair bows sitting touching shoulders, smiling at the camera, oblivious of the grand adventure that awaited them in life.
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I am wondering how it will appear to people if Jim and I return this year to London for the express purpose of touring Highclare (setting of Downton Abbey)? I am further wondering why I care how it appears to other people.
---------------------------
One evening Jim was at a meeting, there was nothing on TV worth watching and I decided to organize my scarves. By color and by season, and with time on my hand, I began counting and stopped at 150. Is this considered hoarding?
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And that's what I think about it.
The lure was the family but I like to 'awful-ize.'
------------------------
Kat Karson now knows four tricks. He can High Five, Lay Down, Jump Up, and Get His Own Treat from the can of treats on command. Jim has promised that if I can teach him to roll over he (Jim) will reward me with a trip around the world. I am working hard on this ultimate goal.
-------------------------
The grandchildren have scattered. It wasn't that long ago that they were a gaggle of little girls, dressed alike with huge hair bows who linked arms and hands and went everywhere together. The oldest has a college degree, a job, and apartment, and a boyfriend. The next has has a college degree, a job, an apartment, and a husband. The next is starting her second semester at Indiana University. Her twin has an job, an apartment, a boyfriend, and a new course of study in Indianapolis. Their grandmother has a photo prominently displayed of four little girls in white dresses with pink sashes and huge hair bows sitting touching shoulders, smiling at the camera, oblivious of the grand adventure that awaited them in life.
--------------------------
I am wondering how it will appear to people if Jim and I return this year to London for the express purpose of touring Highclare (setting of Downton Abbey)? I am further wondering why I care how it appears to other people.
---------------------------
One evening Jim was at a meeting, there was nothing on TV worth watching and I decided to organize my scarves. By color and by season, and with time on my hand, I began counting and stopped at 150. Is this considered hoarding?
--------------------------
And that's what I think about it.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Memories of Christmas Past
Many, if not most, parents think back over their years of raising children and can pin-point those exact moments and events that would make Dr. Spock and James Dobson call the authorities...or at least add a chapter to their next parenting book titled "Don't Parent This Way".
Memories of these poor examples of parenting continue to romp through adult minds unbidden creating moms and dads who wish for the Do-Over genie to appear and wipe away words and actions that were momentary but which live in infamy in the heart of the parent.
Things said, actions taken, over-reactions, the list could continue. One wonders whether the child remembers and was influenced by these events with as much strength as the parent. A parent wonders just what a child remembers of their childhood.
And so it was with a small tear and a great deal of gratefulness for forgetting and grace that my daughter posted the following on Facebook.
"When Lola and I were little we lived with our mom in a small apartment. Every year at Christmas time she would create a fireplace on the wall; brick patterned corrugated cardboard, cotton for snow, tissue paper for fire, and hang our stockings from it. Thank you for giving us Christmas magic, mom:)"
Merry Christmas to all who read this. May your memories be filled with joyous moments and your present be blanketed with grace and forgiveness. That is is message of Christmas...to all people....always.
Memories of these poor examples of parenting continue to romp through adult minds unbidden creating moms and dads who wish for the Do-Over genie to appear and wipe away words and actions that were momentary but which live in infamy in the heart of the parent.
Things said, actions taken, over-reactions, the list could continue. One wonders whether the child remembers and was influenced by these events with as much strength as the parent. A parent wonders just what a child remembers of their childhood.
And so it was with a small tear and a great deal of gratefulness for forgetting and grace that my daughter posted the following on Facebook.
"When Lola and I were little we lived with our mom in a small apartment. Every year at Christmas time she would create a fireplace on the wall; brick patterned corrugated cardboard, cotton for snow, tissue paper for fire, and hang our stockings from it. Thank you for giving us Christmas magic, mom:)"
Merry Christmas to all who read this. May your memories be filled with joyous moments and your present be blanketed with grace and forgiveness. That is is message of Christmas...to all people....always.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
The Blue Glove
Three things converged last week that culminated in a God-moment that some of my readers may find thin or even errant theology but which I find confirming.and comforting.
Number one was the change in temperatures in southern Indiana last week. Way too early for winter, nonetheless the mercury regularly dipped into the 30s overnights with morning frosts a daily occurrence. Short-sleeved shirts were replaced with heavier, long-sleeved ones in the semi-annual "changing of the closets."
Number two was the ever-increasing level of expertise in and reliance on modern technology. Already somewhat bored with Facebook, last week I figured out how to create a Twitter account and found, within the first ten minutes, I had 14 followers and I was following 35 news sources, writers, and other pundits. With my handy-dandy iPhone I could text, message, facetime, check Facebook, Pinterest, and now Twitter. So far I have tweeted three times. I could also make phone calls.
As an aside, the iPhone came in very handy last week. After several decades of carefully keeping all liquids and most crumbly foods away from my laptop, I spilled a cup of coffee on the keyboard. As the computer sat drying out in a bag of rice for two days, I relied on my phone to bring me news of the outside world. If there is an upside to this, as I sit here typing on that same laptop, completely healed now, every so often, like when I hit the Q, A, and Z on the left side of the keyboard, I can catch a whiff of Pumpkin Spice Coffee.
Number three was my birthday which called for a family dinner and gifts. Love both. One gift from my daughter was a pair of gloves. Because of numbers one and two, the gloves were specially made to allow the wearer to use the iPhone without removing the gloves to punch in passwords, numbers, texts, etc. while keeping hands toasty. Very practical; very warm; very fashionable.
Tuesday night was the meeting of our monthly book club. With temperatures dipping into the 20s, I wore the gloves. When I got to the church where the book discussion would take place, I took the gloves off in the car, since I was parked very close to the door, and hustled into the church. Hustling back to the car afterward I drove home, into the garage and put the garage door down. I picked up my book, purse and one glove. One glove? I looked on the seat, under the seat, in the back seat, on the floor of the garage, and being of the age where these things happen, began to doubt myself. Had I really worn the gloves at all? But yes, I had one of them so I must have. Surely I would not have worn just one glove.
Running through my mind were the following thoughts: How thoughtless of me to lose one of the gloves? What would I tell my daughter when she asked why I never wore them? I had been very careless and carelessness is a sign of being ungrateful. I berated myself.
The next morning I looked again in the car from bumper to bumper and on the garage floor. No blue glove.
I drove back to the church for an early morning meeting. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I drove right into the parking lot and found that glove in the very space where I had parked the night before?" I thought to myself. My thoughts turned into prayers (here's where the theology becomes thin). If God cares about me, and I care about this glove, might he put me in the right place to find it if it were indeed to be found?
You're way ahead of me on this. I pulled into the parking lot and into the space I had occupied the evening before. There on the ground was the glove, covered with frost but otherwise undamaged.
What a wonderful coincidence some might say. Others might wonder if I really am going to equate my shallow prayer with finding the glove. Some might dismiss the incident as too inconsequential to mention. They will think, she dropped the glove when she got out of the car and found it the next morning. End of story. The more cynical might wonder if I wouldn't have learned a stronger lesson if I'd never found the glove and had to live with the consequences. At the very least, I love the fact that when I found the glove I could look up, grin and have a thankful chat with a God I know exists and delights me at every turn.
And that's what I think about it.
Number one was the change in temperatures in southern Indiana last week. Way too early for winter, nonetheless the mercury regularly dipped into the 30s overnights with morning frosts a daily occurrence. Short-sleeved shirts were replaced with heavier, long-sleeved ones in the semi-annual "changing of the closets."
Number two was the ever-increasing level of expertise in and reliance on modern technology. Already somewhat bored with Facebook, last week I figured out how to create a Twitter account and found, within the first ten minutes, I had 14 followers and I was following 35 news sources, writers, and other pundits. With my handy-dandy iPhone I could text, message, facetime, check Facebook, Pinterest, and now Twitter. So far I have tweeted three times. I could also make phone calls.
As an aside, the iPhone came in very handy last week. After several decades of carefully keeping all liquids and most crumbly foods away from my laptop, I spilled a cup of coffee on the keyboard. As the computer sat drying out in a bag of rice for two days, I relied on my phone to bring me news of the outside world. If there is an upside to this, as I sit here typing on that same laptop, completely healed now, every so often, like when I hit the Q, A, and Z on the left side of the keyboard, I can catch a whiff of Pumpkin Spice Coffee.
Number three was my birthday which called for a family dinner and gifts. Love both. One gift from my daughter was a pair of gloves. Because of numbers one and two, the gloves were specially made to allow the wearer to use the iPhone without removing the gloves to punch in passwords, numbers, texts, etc. while keeping hands toasty. Very practical; very warm; very fashionable.
Tuesday night was the meeting of our monthly book club. With temperatures dipping into the 20s, I wore the gloves. When I got to the church where the book discussion would take place, I took the gloves off in the car, since I was parked very close to the door, and hustled into the church. Hustling back to the car afterward I drove home, into the garage and put the garage door down. I picked up my book, purse and one glove. One glove? I looked on the seat, under the seat, in the back seat, on the floor of the garage, and being of the age where these things happen, began to doubt myself. Had I really worn the gloves at all? But yes, I had one of them so I must have. Surely I would not have worn just one glove.
Running through my mind were the following thoughts: How thoughtless of me to lose one of the gloves? What would I tell my daughter when she asked why I never wore them? I had been very careless and carelessness is a sign of being ungrateful. I berated myself.
The next morning I looked again in the car from bumper to bumper and on the garage floor. No blue glove.
I drove back to the church for an early morning meeting. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I drove right into the parking lot and found that glove in the very space where I had parked the night before?" I thought to myself. My thoughts turned into prayers (here's where the theology becomes thin). If God cares about me, and I care about this glove, might he put me in the right place to find it if it were indeed to be found?
You're way ahead of me on this. I pulled into the parking lot and into the space I had occupied the evening before. There on the ground was the glove, covered with frost but otherwise undamaged.
What a wonderful coincidence some might say. Others might wonder if I really am going to equate my shallow prayer with finding the glove. Some might dismiss the incident as too inconsequential to mention. They will think, she dropped the glove when she got out of the car and found it the next morning. End of story. The more cynical might wonder if I wouldn't have learned a stronger lesson if I'd never found the glove and had to live with the consequences. At the very least, I love the fact that when I found the glove I could look up, grin and have a thankful chat with a God I know exists and delights me at every turn.
And that's what I think about it.
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