Cross the Border

A week managed to slide by since my last meeting of cyber minds. Such a short amount of time, yet so much transpired. I'll turn back time to last week, and move forward from there. It's a beautiful day, so just get a frosty one, and kick back in your favorite seating device.

Last week, in the middle of class, one of my strong students just broke down crying at his desk. This is wildly out of character for this little fella, so I asked him to come outside for a moment. I asked him what was wrong and what I could do to help him. He said that the pastor had prayed with him at church the Sunday before, and ever since he had felt a strange feeling inside. My mind began to race. Should I pray with him? How do I handle this? Is he Christian or another religion I am not aware of? What should I say? What am I legally allowed to say? Will I loose my job if I ask if he feels the Lord calling him to be one of His own? I took about thirty seconds to process. I had a similar occurrence when I taught in San Angelo. The beauty there was that in a private Christian school, you can share the Word, pray, and share in the beautiful experience of a child giving their life to the Lord. It was truly a day I will never forget. In the middle of bible class one day, she asked to speak with me outside. She said she had felt this pull for a long time and wanted to pray and make things right in her heart. I could not, however, very well have a similar instance in a public school where prayer is not even legal. I talked to this student and reassured him that he could always talk to his parents and to respond to that feeling in his heart. I have never had such a strong 'my hands are tied' moment. I continue to pray that the Lord is speaking to his heart and that he will respond to the call. It really makes you think about the very morals on which this country was founded. I find it unbelievable that the simple act of prayer may not be expressed within the walls of the buildings that take a part in shaping America's students into the basic human beings they will become. For some of these kids, we are the only positive influence they have during their day...food for thought.

Yesterday, I really felt like I was on the other side of the border willing my Expedition to careen itself back onto Texas soil. Allow me to explain. Everyday I see this guy peddling for Dixie on his Huffy from Kingsville to the cut-off to Premont. That's about a thirty mile round trip hike...on a Huffy. I decided, that's it, I must find out if he is training for some kind of race- because if he is, I am donating out of shear admiration of his dedication. I busted a U on the highway and pulled off to the shoulder to wait for him to approach. There was no standing water or anything, nonetheless, this soft ground got the better of me. Background information is needed here. A few months ago, we thought my Expedition would be retired to the rust ridden junkyard of the south due to persistent strange noises emitting from the front end. Come to find out, it was the spider gears. The very gears that permit the four wheel drive. Now I will continue...Like a ding bat, I felt the car start to slip. I had no choice but to go for gold. I floored it. Well, first I made sure no cars were coming, then I floored it. I cut the wheel left and right, and burned out. I managed to come to a thrashing halt as one side of the tires flung themselves back onto the asphalt portion of the shoulder of the road. The biker guy slowed down as all this took place- in his mind probably deducing some sort of psychosis state was behind the wheel. After I managed to "park", I got out and asked if he was training for some kind of race. Turns out, he just does it for personal fitness. If I had that bike, I'd have to rig up some kind of plywood seat cushioned with memory foam strapped onto that tiny banana shaped excuse for a butt-holder. Hats off to all you riders, because those seats scream irritation...

On a racing note, my sister got drawn to run the New York marathon in November. We are super proud of her accomplishment, and can't wait to see her sail through the streets of New York! Go Shelly go!

In hindsight, as we navigate the many situations of daily life, may we be aware of who God may put in our paths to lead to Him, and how we might be used for His greater good. However, we must first be available and willing to answer the call. And might we all stay on the paved roadways to avoid being bogged down by just another one of life's tiny fascinations- South Texas sand.