‘Twas the Night before Easter

I learned today that a new "Veggie Tales" DVD entitled "‘Twas the Night before Easter" will be released soon. I watched the two-minute trailer on line but was not able to tell very much about it. Apparently, it deals with an Easter Pageant in which the local town’s people (or should I say local town’s vegetables) try to persuade a famous singer to participate. It appears to be full of the characteristic fun, music, and Christian messages that make "Veggie Tales" one of my favorite gifts to give my grandchildren.

It was, however, the title that intrigued me most, and I could not stop thinking about how neglected the night before Easter is in our celebration of this most Holy season. The night before both Easters—the first Passover in Egypt (the precursor of Easter) and the first Easter when Jesus Christ was crucified—are often given minimal attention because our emphasis is on the deliverance from slavery in Egypt and the resurrection  of Jesus Christ and all that it promises.

The significance of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is, of course, of inestimable importance. It is the basis for our faith and our hope. Yet, the night before Easter also has much to teach Christians about faith and hope.

Both the first Passover and the first Easter were nights filled with death, uncertainty, and fear. In Egypt the Israelites witnessed the death of all firstborn males, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh to the firstborn son of his lowliest slave, and even the firstborn male animals—all who were not under the protective covering of the blood of the lamb. The Bible says, “The wail of death will resound throughout the entire land of Egypt; never before has there been such anguish, and it will never be again” (Living Bible). How incredible! The night before the Nation of Israel was gloriously delivered from slavery, on the last day of the 430^th year of their being in Egypt, the Israelites endured a night of such anguish and terror that God promised “it will never be again.”

Likewise, on the night before the first Easter, hope seemed to have disappeared from the earth. Jesus’ followers were scattered, disillusioned, and terrified. Luke gives the account of the two men on the road to Emmaus who were discussing the crucifixion—this was on Sunday, the day Jesus arose, but these followers had not yet heard the news. Nothing had turned out as they had imagined it would. Now their faith had all but disappeared as Cleopas demonstrated when he remarked, “We had thought he was the glorious Messiah and that he had come to rescue Israel” (Living Bible).

Many of us feel as if we are living in our own night before Easter. Some of us have lost our jobs, our businesses, our retirement accounts and our homes. Things have not turned out at all as we had believed they would. We are experiencing financial upheaval, threats of terrorism, and a flood of uncertainty in almost every aspect of our lives. This is a very scary time.

I hope that as Easter approaches, we will remember how hopeless things looked the night before that first Passover and the night before that first Easter. I hope that we will be emboldened by the knowledge that although on both occasions God’s people felt that they had been deserted, they were never alone. God led them out of Egypt with mighty miracles. On the road to Emmaus Jesus appeared to his followers and walked along with them, even though, at first, they did not recognize Him. He comforted them and told them that everything that had happened was part of God’s plan.

The night before the first Easter was an absolutely necessary part of the fulfillment of God’s promise on Easter morning. Whatever we are going through in our personal lives this Easter season, we need to concentrate on God’s promises to His children and not become discouraged. Jesus has called us his “friends” and has promised that He will never desert us. With a friend like that, how can we fear our enemies?

For related posts, visit http://www.frontier2000.net/.

                                                                             

What is America Teaching her Daughters?

I do not believe in a double standard; I am a firm believer that boys should be held to just as strict a standard as girls. Nevertheless, when a girl becomes pregnant out of wedlock, she is the one who pays the highest price. In almost all cases she is the one who supports and raises the child; she is the one who may find it necessary to delay higher education, perhaps permanently; she is the one whose reputation suffers.

Today when I arrived at my office and brought up my AOL homepage to begin my day’s work, I saw an article about Linnese Ortega, a young woman whose name appears on a Facebook “Smut List.” Although I was very busy, I clicked on the article to see why this pretty teen was upset enough to appear on the Today show to protest having been included on the list. According to the article, the “Smut List” is a list circulating around seven school districts in Greenwich, Conn. and New York’s Westchester County of 100 high school girls who were rated based on their level of sexual activity. I had naively expected Miss Ortega to say that she had been misrepresented as someone who is promiscuous when, in fact, she is not. I was wrong.

Before I go on, I want to make my own position clear. I think that it is both wrong and cruel for anyone to ridicule another person for any reason. If I were the parent of one of the teens involved in posting those names, I would administer a stiff punishment and have several long talks with the offending teen about the damage that such antics can cause. I would also make it crystal clear that nothing like that had better ever happen again. However, I believe that this incident is symptomatic of a much deeper problem.

The article describes Linnese Ortega as a teenage Mom of two who can’t figure out why she is on the list when “she isn’t even in high school anymore.” Linnese said that her sixteen year old sister also made the list and that she feels “bad” for her.

I genuinely feel sorry for the girls on the list as well as for the teens who targeted them, but the entire incident demonstrates a terrible lack of teaching for all concerned. Our society has become so skewed that we have lost sight of the fact that parents are the ones responsible for instilling values in their children that keep them from living a lifestyle that will cause them to be included on such a list and from being so insensitive that they would participate in the compilation of such a list.

The article, which was written by Emily Tan, argued that this is yet another form of cyber bullying and that criminal charges should be filed against any teens who were involved in posting the names of the girls who appeared on the list. I think that Ms. Tan has rocks in her head, and I think that she is an excellent example of just how lost we have become as a society.

America is teaching her daughters that it is perfectly alright to have extra-marital sex. Therefore, when a young woman is faced with the consequences of her bad choices, she believes that no one has the right to criticize her. On the other hand, America is also teaching her daughters that treating other girls badly makes the perpetrator very “cool.” In fact, we constantly see ads for television shows such as Bad Girls that, apparently, glorify this kind of conduct.

It is the parents’ responsibility to teach their daughters that no sex outside of marriage is permissible. It is also their responsibility to teach their daughters that when a girl makes a bad choice and disobeys God’s laws it is our responsibility to treat her with love and compassion.

If parents would concentrate on really instilling these two beliefs in their daughters, we would have far fewer illegitimate births, far fewer venereal diseases, and far fewer young women who are humiliated at a time when they need to be extended Christian love and Grace.

                                                   

Who’s Your Favorite?

Every parent with more than one child has been asked the question many times: “Who’s your favorite?” Of course, every parent also knows that only a bad parent would ever name a favorite. Instead we reply, “I don’t have any favorites. I love everybody the same.”

My grandmother died at age ninety-three leaving fifteen grandchildren behind. After her funeral they returned to her house and sat around exchanging memories. Finally, one of my female cousins said, “I always felt kind of guilty because I knew that I was her favorite, and I didn’t think it was fair to the rest of you. This announcement was received by fourteen pairs of stunned ears.

“Are you kidding?” someone else exclaimed. “I always knew that I was her favorite.”

After a bit more discussion, it was discovered that every grandchild had always believed himself/herself to be my grandmother’s favorite. How did Grandma manage to convince each grandchild that he/she was the favorite? It certainly was not because she ever told any child that he/she was the favorite. In fact, Grandma was faithful to always give the PC response, “Grandma doesn’t have any favorites. She loves everyone the same.”

After sixteen years of pondering how Grandma managed to made everyone feel so loved and so special, I think that I have the answer. It was not true that Grandma didn’t have favorites; the truth was that she had fifteen favorites. She treated each grandchild as if he/she were an only grandchild. She loved each of us for who we were, and she never compared us to anyone else. She never told us that we should be more like one of her other grandchildren. If we had a complaint about one of our cousins or siblings, she would say that the person in question was just fine, and then she would change the subject.

All of her adult life my grandmother lived on a very modest income, but she knew how to make everything special. She cooked the most delicious meals that I have ever eaten, but she always made it seem as if the labor that she put into those superb meals was no effort at all. She would sit in front of the fire on a cold winter’s day and rock a grandchild long after everyone else had told that child that he/she was too big to be rocked. She always kept a bowl of dimes on a little table near the front door so that on a hot summer’s day when a grandchild heard the ice-cream man’s truck coming down the street, he/she could grab a dime and run outside to buy a treat without having to ask permission. When one of the grandchildren stated that he/she was not allowed to play in the mud, or climb a tree, or go barefoot in the yard, she would reply, “You’re at Grandma’s house now.” This was her reminder to both her grandchildren and their parents that when you were at Grandma’s house, Grandma made the rules, and nine out of ten times her rules came down in the grandchildren’s favor.

When my children were small, we used to take them to a cafeteria for lunch every Sunday after church. One day one of the ladies in the serving line who had become accustomed to seeing us there said to me, “You are the only person I know with ten only children.” I consider that to be one of the nicest compliments I have ever received. I know that I will never be as good as my grandmother was at making children feel special, but I have tried to let each of my children know that they are my favorite child. I was never afraid to “play favorites.” When I was asked the question, “Who’s your favorite?” I answered with complete honesty, “You’re all my favorites.”

Parents should love each child for who he/she is and appreciate that child’s unique contributions to the family. God loves diversity, and so should we. Let your children know that they are special because of who they are and that no one can ever take their place either in your family or in your heart. It is true that as parents we love everyone equally, but it is not true that we love everyone the same. We have a different relationship with each child, and if that child were suddenly taken away, a deep void would be left in our hearts and in our homes.

The next time your child asks you, “Who’s your favorite?” tell him why he is your favorite. Let that child know that you love everyone equally, but also tell him what qualities make him special and give him a place in your heart that no one else can ever fill.

For related posts go to http://www.frontier2000.net/.

                                                                                                   

                  

Why Can’t My Child Read? Part III

Dyslexic children tend to be misunderestimated by nearly everyone with whom they come in contact. Nevertheless, history provides an impressive list of dyslexic people whose accomplishments have significantly impacted society: Agatha Christie, Albert Einstein, Alexander Graham Bell, Hans Christian Andersen, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Edison, Walt Disney, Winston Churchill, and General George Patton are only a few of the notables who battled dyslexia. The problem is that those who suffer from dyslexia are not appreciated until long after they have found ways to overcome their differences, and many dyslexic children never receive the help they need to compete with their “normal” peers.

When George W. Bush was running for President, someone wrote an article saying that they could tell from observing him that he is dyslexic. When a reporter asked him about this, Bush responded by saying that he was glad that he had “finally been diagnosed.” I, of course, have no way of knowing whether our former president is dyslexic, but I do know that he displays many of the characteristics of a dyslexic person; interestingly, it is those same characteristics that endeared him to his supporters.

Dyslexic people tend to make up their own words, and often those words are so descriptive that they work better than their “correct” counterparts. For instance, when George W. Bush coined the word “misunderestimated,” he became the object of a lot of teasing. However, that word was so descriptive of the way the media perceived him that it became the title of several books written about him, including one authored by Bill Sammon that was published in 2005.

Not being an eloquent speaker is certainly not a reflection of one’s intelligence; yet, in this age of electronic media, anyone who is not able to ramble endlessly when the microphone is on is frequently dismissed as “dumb.” Conversely, some very stupid people who are able to speak easily have been mistakenly labeled as “smart.” Dyslexic people are excellent communicators, but they communicate less through speech than they do in other ways.

When George W. Bush was in the White House, he became known for his common “folksy” approach to people. This is typical behavior of people dealing with dyslexia. My ninth child stands close to anyone with whom he is speaking and almost always puts his arm around their shoulder. He studies a person’s body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice. He is at least as interested in how someone says something as he is in what they say. As a result, he is a better judge of whether someone is lying than most of his siblings. When he talks, which he does incessantly, he relies on body language and facial expressions to “tell the story” nearly as much as he does spoken language.

My ninth child will never be able to spell very well (thank goodness for spell check) and he will never excel at standing before a microphone making a dry speech. However, he has the ability to take the most mundane situation and make it outrageously funny. He also communicates a warmth and personal interest in those around them that draws people to him.

Fortunately for my ninth child and for the dyslexic overachievers that I listed at the beginning of this blog, they each had someone who helped them get past the very real problems that are part of living with dyslexia. That is the key; dyslexic children need someone who loves them enough to spend the many hours that are necessary to help them overcome their inability to see the world through the eyes of their “normal’ peers. It is wonderful when the story of a dyslexic child has a happy ending, but those happy endings are always the result of hard work and perseverance on the part of the child and their teacher.

This is the final blog in my three-part series. If you have a child who struggles to learn to read, I hope that these blogs have helped you understand better what your child is experiencing as well as to better understand what you can do to help him. If you have questions or comments, I will respond to them and give you my best advice based on my years of experience dealing with this very sensitive subject.

For related posts go to http://www.frontier2000.net/.

Why Can’t My Child Read? Part II

In Part I of Why Can’t My Child Read? I discussed some of the differences in the way my ninth child processed images and written language compared to his non-dyslexic siblings. I wish that I had known early on just how differently he perceived the world. What I did realize early on was that he was unable to master reading in that almost effortless way that his siblings did.

Before I began teaching my oldest child, I created my own phonics program to teach her to read. I used this program for all of my children, and it worked beautifully. My method was simple. I took 3 x 5 cards and wrote one letter of the alphabet on each. I then wrote common combinations such as sh, ch, tr, etc. on other cards. First, I taught my students the name of each consonant and the sound it makes. I then taught them the name of each vowel and the long and short sound for each. After that I taught them the various common combinations. When they had mastered all of the cards, I showed them how these various sounds combine to make words.  I then introduced Dr. Seuss’ Hop on Pop as their first reader because it utilized many of the combinations that they had learned. Within six weeks after the day I first sat down and began teaching them using this method, they were reading.

Perhaps I should say that within six weeks after the day I first sat down and began teaching them using this method, nine out of ten of them were reading. For my ninth child, reading did not come easily. He had a great deal more difficulty recognizing the cards than his siblings did. It was not that he was not trying; he exerted enormous effort, and whenever he was able to complete an exercise correctly, I really heaped on the praise. Both of us wanted him succeed, but it was a slow process.

Years later one of my daughters told me that he had confided in her that he wished so much that he could read because “it would make Mom so happy.” When she told me that, I nearly cried because I was always aware of how difficult reading was for him. However, not learning to read was not an option. I knew that we both needed help, and I prayed continually about what I should do. After a while I developed a theory that I put into practice, and eventually it paid off.

I thought that a dyslexic child must lack the pathways to the brain that allow non-dyslexic children to learn to read easily. I reasoned that victims of stroke and brain injuries often have to re-learn to talk, read, and even walk by developing new pathways to allow the proper impulses to travel to the brain. Although my theory was strictly my own non-scientific opinion, I believed that this was the only way that I was going to be able to teach my ninth child to read. I would work with him utilizing hours of repetition until we were able to develop pathways that would allow him to process written language.

Because I began teaching all of my children to read shortly before their fifth birthdays, I continued to go over my phonics flash cards with them once each school day for about six months. For my ninth child, I went through the flash cards with him every school day for several years. He made progress, but reading was slow and laborious.

To make things easier I sat with him during his reading assignments.  I would read one page aloud to him while he followed along in the book and, then, he would read one page aloud to me. This kept the assignments from being too tedious. It also gave him the advantage of reinforcing his reading by hearing himself read.

Today I am more convinced than ever that the only way that he could ever have learned to read was by reading, reading, and more reading. I am reminded of the Olympic athletes who became gold medalists because they had disabilities that they had to work hard to overcome. They did not set out to become outstanding athletes—they were just trying to overcome problems that were not problems for “normal” people.

Scott Hamilton developed a mysterious disease at the age of two that caused him to stop growing. He began to skate as a therapy to help him overcome what was originally thought to be a condition that was terminal. Not only did he get well, he ended up becoming one of the greatest male figure skaters of all time.

Likewise, Michael Phelps was diagnosed as ADHD and got involved in swimming partially to help him burn off some of the energy that kept him from being able to sit still for extended periods of time. Consequently, in the 2008 Summer Olympics he won six gold and two bronze medals.  

As I mentioned in Part I of this blog, my ninth child did learn to read. He made excellent grades and received his master’s degree soon after his seventeenth birthday. The methods that I used to help him overcome his difficulties learning to read were simple, but they were not easy. It took love, patience and hard work on both our parts to overcome a situation that often seemed as if it were insurmountable. 

Next Tuesday:  Why Can’t My Child Read? Part III

For related posts go to http://www.frontier2000.net/