NOTHING BUT A SAD PICTURE

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a blog called, "Seal of Authenticity." Some were confused by this while others tracked with me from beginning to end. For those who did not get my point, I apologize for not being more concise. For those who'll admit they were wandering around in my musing, here's a rear view reflection . . . this time from someone else's perspective.

When blog responses come in, I can usually tell if you are truly interested in the subject or just appeasing me with your comment. This particular comment stuck out and I knew I hit a nerve.

With the author's permission, I have saved their response from that blog as this week's article and would ask that you voice your opinion to the author when you comment. It is raw, strong and opinionated, which I love.

"WANTING BUT DON'T RECEIVE, FAKE PEOPLE, AND FEEL GOODS

I could go to church every day for the rest of my life, read the bible everyday, say a prayer 100 times everyday and have that mind set. I could say I'm an authentic Christian. Sad to say this isn't the case. Faith gets you into heaven not a prayer.

I hate it how teens/people say there Christians, and you go to ask them how do you know and all they have to say is I go to church. All i do is cry on the inside. These people think that there living right. Trying there hardest everyday can't barely pay the bills. parents are getting high in the kitchen. Living life day to day struggling to make it through.
yet all along there deceived and confused.

all there wanting is that unconditional love that was promised to them by these heretic preachers sitting up in these pulpits lying to these people saying if you say these words. It's not the words that get them to heaven, It's the faith!!! They don't tell them that!!! They lie to make them feel good for the time being. All along we sit back watching it happen. We wonder why teenagers are committing suicide. Having sex because there looking for love in the wrong way. Doing drugs you name it. All because people are to afraid to tell the truth. Lets wake up and see the facts. People need truth. So quit feeding the lies. Quit putting oxygen to fire.

Then we got these preachers who think it's ok to be gay. They think that God loves you no madder what. Thats a lie from hell. God says to turn from evil and seek him, not do evil and seek him. Then were wondering why people say there confused. Look whats happening right in front of your eye's.

Then we have you common feel goods. Preachers who preach a feel good message instead of the truth. When all the while there afraid that they might offend someone. That there population in the church might go down. God didn't care!!! He said speak my word. He never said care if your going to offend someone. People are going to listen if they want to listen.

let me tell you something there is no such thing as an authentic christian.

you either believe or you don't

there is a heaven and a hell.

you will go to one or the other.

you will stand before God.

You will bow down before him.

end of story.

When you finally realize that it's the faith that makes you a christian. It's the blindness to it. It's knowing that there is no other way. It's knowing that God is God there are know in betweens.
Your way of life will change, but you have to be willing to try.

Martin Luther was blind towards God. He sought nothing but truth.
He was persecuted for it. He didn't care.

so let us pray Lead us from our evil ways let us not seek evil but seek you. let God do as he will in my life. let us set aside our pride for you. I Can't move on without you. I need you in my life. I am asking for your forgiveness to forgive me for all of my sins. I want to turn from my evil ways. I want to stop practicing these things. I want to live my life in your image. With my hands held high surrendering. I am asking you to come into my life and do your works.

To anyone that reads this. If you prayed this or have prayed this or something like it and are truly living for God, and truly surrendered you life to God. You will know If you are a Christian. You will feel like your Completely changed.

Your whole out look on things will change. You will notice your life going smoother. this doesn't mean there wont be trials. When you let God move he will move. you just have to surrender.

He loves all of us.

you just have to let him move.

This is how you know if someone is a christian or not. same goes for you and me.

Jesus said you will no them by there fruits.

Don't be fake, be real. Surrender, let him move, and love your life again.

this is my motto for authenticity.

Jesus loves you."

JoShUa DaViDsOn

Look up the meanings of your first and middle names in either a book of names or on the Internet. Are you surprised?Let me know what you find and then explain the significance.

Seal of Authenticity

Have you ever seen ads on TV for products which, because of their collectible nature or claim of origin, provide a seal of authenticity?

Who comes up this? Is there an office where authentic men and women gather authentic information to verify authentic items so we can then call them authentic? I always wondered.

So I went to Wikipedia, an authentic source of information (not really, because it is an encyclopedia that anyone can edit) to see what it said.

I found out here are two types of methods for proving authenticity. The first is comparing the attributes of one object to what is known about others of that origin. For example, for a painting, an art expert might look for similarities in the style, then check the location and form of the artist's signature, or compare the object to an old photograph.

The second type relies on some sort of documentation or other physical evidence such as an accompanying certificate. In the case of currency, we look for specific physical features and the fact that it should feel different than any other paper. Consumer goods are usually protected by a trademark or some other recognizable feature.

This explanation helped but we all know these methods can be tampered with. In my experience with prison ministry, I've shook hands those who have tried.

Just the other day, a friend of mine came by with purses she was helping a friend sell. Her display had everything from Channel to Prada, including Dolce and Gabbana. The handbags were absolutely beautiful, having the look and feel of being the "real thing."

Coca Cola used authenticity as their motto for quite some time. They wanted everyone to know that Coke products were real and the others were just a copy. I have found that sometimes people want a copy; for whatever reason, they may even like it better.

Jesus said in Matthew 13:30 that the enemy plants the copy amongst the real and that it will all be sorted out later. I have always had a hard time with this because I think there is a part of me that wants to expose what's fake right now. Too many people are being deceived and I hate that! Jesus explained the problem with trying to straighten things out now is that the authentic might get rooted up in the process and He didn't want that to happen. He went on to say that later, this would be the reaper's job.

This makes me consider my own authenticity. Can you tell that I belong to Him? Is there enough proof about me and the way I live my life so that others, especially the reapers, can see that I am for real? Because I can't stand pious posers and that includes myself!!!

If you had to make a list of counterfeits which helped to identify the fraudulent from the authentic, what three things would be on it?

The Song in My Head

by Christina Horton

Imagine a world without music, one where not even the birds could sing. Only SILENCE and the dull sounds of everyday life would exist. Horrible, right?




Thankfully, we do have music, and some are even gifted in making it. Definitely, it plays a major part in human expression and inspiration, influencing artists, writers, and more. Because of this, I believe that you can tell a lot about a person just from what music they like.

When I was little, I listened along with my dad to the oldies of the ‘60s and ‘70s and to gentle pop songs with my mom. Also, I learned a great amount of hymns and classical music since I started playing piano and at that time attended a church that mostly sung out of the Baptist hymnal. Eventually, Christian contemporary/rock reached my ears as well as those of my family; alone (but with guidelines), I explored Christian scream-o, hip-hop, and rap. As I grew as a musician and as a typical human being, I began to find out more about myself and more about the kinds of music, including mainstream, that just expressed…me. Picking out my favorite sounds and words, I found the music to the song in my head, composed most importantly of praise to my Savior—the One who gave me the music—and also of pure enjoyment. It has the passion of Beethoven; the strong foundations of “Be Thou My Vision” and “What Wondrous Love is This”; the excitement of Bill Haley, the Beatles, and the Monkees; the spice of ragtime and jazz; the heartbeat of Jeremy Camp, Barlow Girl, and Chris Tomlin; the rock of Relient K, The Afters, Fireflight, Anberlin, and Sherwood; the originality of Sufjan Stevens and Unwed Sailor; and the creativity of my own compositions. There’s probably more…but you would be here all day if I mentioned every detail!

So, what kind of music expresses who you are?

What is the song in your head?

Snow In OZ

It was one of my wishes this Christmas and it came true!

Just like the song, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," I wished for snow this year. Living in Florida, frozen precipitation is classified as a miracle in these parts. But where I grew up, we had 12 inches one day and 18 the next. You were lucky to get Christmas cards because the mailboxes where completely covered over.

The last time it snowed in Jacksonville was 1989. That's almost 20 years ago, which tells you something. Nevertheless, I dreamed of it. After almost 31 years in the South, I still find it hard to wrap my mind around palm trees with Christmas lights on them. Jacksonville has it's fair share of cheesy inflatable snowmen, along with lighted wire reindeer, all displayed on green lawns with not a blanket of frost in sight.

But this year, while in Kansas City visiting my daughter, I was blessed with the white Christmas I longed for. As I looked out the airplane's window, I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, wondering if I landed in a dream. Getting off, I immediately went to the car rental office. They asked me if I had any experience driving in snow. My past had served me well, giving me the necessary knowledge I needed. I'm so glad I did all those donuts in the High School parking lot after hours! I didn't know I would one day rely on such a valuable skill.

And skill was what I needed driving on the hilly streets of Kansas City. My PT Cruiser maneuvered well on the ice and more importantly, my heater worked on demand. I had forgotten how cold "cold" was. It's really cold! The gray snow skies covered the earth below like a dingy blanket; the streets were quietly serene. Footprints of friends coming and going from my daughters house showed me that snowfall didn't stop those committed to 24/7 prayer. Nothing stops them.

But after 4 days, I was ready to return to the tropics. I missed the snow days of my past and truly felt God's blessing as He orchestrated the conditions to remedy my hearts desire. I knew that snow had fallen just for me.

Then it was time . . . I found a fluffy patch to sink my feet into and began to click my heals together saying over and over again, "There's no place like home." It worked; I'm back!

It was strange sweating on Christmas Day with temperatures in the 80's, but I guess I'll learn to deal with it . . . someday.

ANGELS AMONGST US

With the economy in crisis, stress levels at an all-time high, and depression knocking on 2009's door, some can truly relate to George Bailey in Frank Capra's classic, "It's A Wonderful Life." Watching this mans life through the camera lens of an angel named Clarence gives us just the "rear-view reflection" needed for the days to come.

The movie has many high points as the laugh meter rises to the top time after time, but I must say that one of my favorite parts is the very beginning when we hear numerous prayers being offered by those who believe He truly hears us. The camera slowly zooms out as requests are being made known and everyone seems to be clamoring at once. The script allows for a small cast of voices crying out to Him with various supplications. Yet God, in all His glorious splendor, chooses to listen and is moved by those who tug on His merciful heart.

As far back as my memories serve me, I remember my mom being a "tugger." Even if it was after I had fallen asleep, I still recollect her tip-toeing into my room to say a soft-spoken prayer over me. Each time she prayed, she tugged at His heart, asking for my safe passage through this life, as well as His blessing. Those words cover me to this day; their goal was and still is to accomplish all that was intended in the words which came off her lips.

I do the same for my children now, whether they are near or far. Already, I pray for their yet-to-be spouses, as well as the grandchildren I will soon hold. As a mother, tugging is my business, but as a believer, tugging is essential to my existence. Once you start tugging in sincerity, you become addicted sensing His pleasure in the asking. Strangely, because of this act, His heart is moved.

More than ever before, I feel an urgency to tug. As much as Hollywood attempted to portray this, we need to be sensitive to the leading of the Spirit when we pray. Just as many lifted the name of George Bailey to the heavens, God is calling His people to pray. If we could zoom the camera out the way Frank Capra did, we too would begin to hear the consistency in God's agenda.

This generation is very unique. Truly, these are exciting times to be alive in and 2009 will soon be overflowing with so-called change. Can prayer make a difference? Let me narrow this down even further . . . are there angels assigned to personally assist you? According to George Bailey, there are. Read Psalms 91:11-12 and let me know what YOU think.

I fell for it every year!

The date was December 24th; the temperature was usually below zero; the time was always around 7:oo Pm, just after dinner. I can still remember standing with my face pressed to the cold plate glass. My breath on the inside of the window turned to thin ice as I stood there, knowing if I stared long enough, I might spot a twinkle.

Oblivious to everyone, my mother would ask my older sister to help me get my bath. Why now, I wondered? He'll be here any minute! Pleading with her did me no good. She always told me that if I hurried, I would get done before he came. One of my clever brothers tipped me off and suggested I mix the shampoo and the creme rinse together to save time. (He could have patented this idea and been the inventor of the first 2-in-1 shampoo.)

But it never failed. Every year, while the water was going down the drain and I was still dripping wet, I heard the echo of the jingle bells just before the door slammed shut. I scurried to get pajamas on my wet body, accomplishing very little. Frustrated I would miss him, I exchanged being half-naked in front of my family, for a chance to get a glimpse of his sleigh in the cold, December night sky. Then came my dad's famous words, "You just missed him!" But I was sure I had seen his shadow.

What happened next was nothing short of chaotic. We opened presents until we were silly and sleepy. Going to bed wasn't very hard as I usually slept with one of my new toys, knowing that the next day would be filled with endless hours of play and our traditional Italian feast.

Eventually, I learned the Christmas secret but I still can't figure out why I fell for it every year!

In no less than at least two paragraphs, describe your favorite Christmas tradition with plenty of details.

Can you believe it? Christmas is only a few weeks away!!!

I started my Christmas shopping a few months ago so I feel like I am ahead of the game. This year, I tried a different gift strategy with my kids. When it came to picking out their gifts, I took them shopping with me. They should be 100% pleased with what is under the tree this year and just in case they change their minds on any of the items before I wrap them, they have the opportunity to exchange BEFORE Christmas. The anticipation seems greater, even though both of them know what they are getting. The torment of having the stuff somewhere in the house and not being able to touch any of it is killing them.

My kids are asking me for my list and it's hard to think of ideas on demand. All year long, I come across great gift ideas for myself but for some reason, I'm at a loss. Most of the things I want are either too expensive or they are items I would like to pick out myself. Maybe I should use my new gift strategy on myself!

Eventually, I'll come up with a list of well-deserved items. When my kids ask their Dad to take them Christmas shopping for me, they'll be well-informed little shoppers, brainwashed by me, to spend lots of Daddy's hard-earned money.

But what makes me think I should get everything my little heart desires? Well, for the most part, I have been a good girl. I haven't been naughty very much this year and truly thought of others before myself. Basically, I've been perfect in every way. Don't you think I should get everything on my list?

How about you? Please explain why you think YOU should be spoiled this year . . . everything on your list, wrapped and under the tree.

SWEET DREAMS by Nathan James

I'd like to think of myself as one who has many vivid and colorful dreams, not to mention, very random and nonsensical ones as well. What our minds tend to muster up in the late hours of the night can be some of the most ridiculous and crazy scenarios imaginable.

Of course, people have different mindsets, ideas, points of view, and other related mental articles, which give each person different types of dreams; whether it be the people involved in the dream, the setting, atmosphere or appearance. I’ve found some of mine to be very colorful and lustrous (even though I hear that we dream in black and white, I will continuously argue that this statement is fiction.)

Dreaming doesn’t usually occur in the deeper stages of sleep, but rather in the first few stages. We do our dreaming generally in the state of lighter sleeping. Also, if you didn’t already know, it only takes about 10% of your brain to create a dream for nighty-night time.

But aside from all of those monotonous facts, I’d like to hear some of your sweet dreams. Whether they are embarrassing, silly, nightmarish, realistic, or story-like, please share them. I might share a few of mine too, in response to yours. So, what kind of dreams do YOU have?

THE PERFECT MEAL

It's getting closer. The anticipation is building. Soon, the smell of turkey roasting in the oven, along with dressing and pies, will fill millions of homes all over the United States.

As far back as I can remember, I woke up with these same distinctive aromas wafting past my nose, as well as the sound of Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade coming from the family room TV. No one was necessarily watching it, but it was on all the same. Sleeping late meant no school, and if we were lucky, it would snow hard enough over the weekend to justify the school board calling for a snow day, giving us a few extra days off.

One of my favorite things to do was look through the Sears Christmas Wish Book and circle everything on my list. This would not be complete without holiday music in the background. Dad had a reel-to reel tape deck in which he had recorded Christmas songs from the radio. These same tapes were played year after year and each time, the familiar renditions would add another layer of memories. If we begged Dad long enough, he might even get the decorations out of the garage. When the ornaments were unpacked, I would gaze at my favorites, as if I were looking at them for the very first time.

Mom always planned to eat around 2:00 Pm, but Tom Turkey didn't make his golden debut until he was ready. The table was set by my sisters and I, everything in its place. Often times, I was given the job of making place cards . . . home made, of course. As the family grew larger and larger, this task took longer and longer. On occasion, we had a special guest join us for dinner . . . someone who needed a home for the holiday.

Then came the long-awaited two words, "Dinner's ready!" Just when we thought it was time to eat, my parents would gather us in a circle and while holding hands, we would take a minute to go around, one at a time, telling what we were thankful for. Although my stomach was empty, my heart was full of the many blessings God gave us as a family. I was overflowing with gratitude.

But that wasn't all that overflowed. When the prayer was over, the abundance of blessings on the table overflowed my plate. Here is what my plate looked like: a few slices of Mom's perfect turkey next to her AMAZING giblet stuffing (a double portion at least,) then corn, green bean casserole, home made mashed potato's and gravy, along with two cranberry sauces and possibly a roll. Since my son married, the North finally met the South and we now have the addition of Sweet Potato Casserole, courtesy of my daughter-in-law, Angela.

All's well that ends well and I am proud to say that I am the official pie maker in this family. I always bake at least four pies: Dutch Apple, Chocolate Pecan, Pumpkin and French Silk Chocolate Pie. (Don't forget the whipped Cream.)

After the last dish is washed, the women folk take their traditional walk in the neighborhood to ease the pain of overeating or maybe just get out of the kitchen. Yet, there is one last important ingredient left to mention.

When I was a child, we went as a family to view the Christmas window display at a popular department store in the town where I grew up. To carry on this tradition, we now go to Kuhn Flowers on Thanksgiving night, to see their widows. Although someone in my family always feels the need to express disapproval to this long standing ritual, they graciously appease me by honoring my request.

As the years go by, family dynamics have shifted and changed. This year, a nucleus of us will be trying Thanksgiving around the campfire. I am looking forward to creative variations of the traditions I hold so dear, adding another layer of memories. But I have learned something about this perfect meal . . . it's not where you are or what you put on your plate, its who you are with and what you have in your heart that counts.

What's your idea of the perfect meal?

THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT WAS IN MY DAY!

I heard this growing up and continue to hear it today.

I am very blessed to have my parents still living. My father was born in 1923 and my mother in 1930. When I look at those numbers, my brain freezes. What was it like to live back then? The only thing this generation can wrap it's mind around is the here and the now.

Listening to my parents speak of a simpler life makes me long for more innocent days of old. When my mother craved peaches, she didn't go to the grocery store; she went down to the cellar and grabbed a quart-size Mason jar which her mother canned. Her mothers washing machine was a wringer washer and all the laundry was dried outside on clothes lines. Telephone numbers were shared by neighbors who could interrupt your call at any time.

My dad didn't wear a back pack to school but carried his books in a stack, tied together with string or an old shoelace. When my dad's generation needed money, they got on a bike and delivered the daily paper. Because there was no television or video games, kids actually gathered on safe streets to play tag, capture the stick, marbles or jacks. If Dad could get enough friends together, they would play a neighborhood game of ball that lasted until dusk. Then the family would gather around the radio for evening entertainment.

Don't think that a simpler life was an easier one. The Great Depression took it's toll and many fathers lost their jobs, filing into breadlines to keep their families from starving. If you managed to have a job, you worked hard to keep it. Money was scarce and the economy suffered a very devastating blow. Just as our nation was recovering from the crash, WWII became the focus.

My folks survived the Depression as well as the war and still live to tell about days such as these. They are now enjoying so many modern conveniences that help make their lives easier. On occasion, my dad will even say, "If my mother could see this, she would roll over in her grave!"

But from then to now, everything is different; nothing is the same. We get more done in a minute than they could have gotten done in several hours or even days. One thing that frustrates my parents is the speed at which things change. Just when my mom learned how to navigate her present operating system, Windows came out with a new one. My dad loves his iPod but hasn't figured out how to update his play list. Replacing an old cell phone with a newer version is completely mind-boggling. They feel as though they can't keep up. Technology is in absolute hyperspace! While my brain is accustomed to processing at the speed of light; they are dizzy from breathing my fumes.

Have you ever stopped to consider what our existence will look like in 25 years? Will we be able to keep up with the information age? Life as we know it is going to be completely different. When someone says, "That's not the way it was in my day," they'll actually be referring to yesterday!

Speculate, for a minute, how things might change from this generation to the next.

Let me hear your thoughts.

(The story you are about to read is 100 % fictional)

Just the other day, I needed to sign some important documents. Because of the nature of my business, signing them in person was a requirement. The office happened to be on the 18th floor of the Modis Building in the downtown area.

I noticed a commotion as I approached the elevators but somehow in all the confusion in the lobby, I wound up in the same elevator as presidential candidate Senator John McCain. There I was, face to face with him. Before I knew it, the doors were closing and secret service came pouncing towards us like a bunch of cats chasing catnip.

I must have been a sight, gawking at him with my jaw touching my chest. He broke the ice by shaking my hand and politely introducing himself. I gasped, knowing exactly who he was. When I told him my name, he smiled and said it was a pleasure to share the ride with me. He further expressed how the security slip-up might serve as a much needed break from the maddening crowds he was so accustomed to.

I nervously stared at the numeric display ascending from one floor to the next, when all of the sudden, the elevator gently came to a stop. We both looked at each other in surprise. I hesitatingly remarked, "Maybe your break will be a bit longer than you expected."

After security assured him via his ever-ringing cell phone we would be fine and the elevator would be repaired momentarily, he asked if sitting on the floor would make me feel uncomfortable. I responded by joining him. I debated in my mind for what seemed like forever, whether or not I should bring up the many issues I was concerned about. As soon I said, "Would you mind if I . . .” he interrupted and replied, "No, go ahead."

The rest is a blur. We must have sat there for a good thirty minutes when the elevator jerked and began its rise back to the top. As my floor approached, I quickly expressed my appreciation for the one-on-one moments we shared. Waving goodbye, I stepped out on to the 18th floor. The doors closed behind giving the Senator two and a half more minutes of solitude as he rode to the building's private top floor.

What did we talk about? That is for me to forever hide in my heart. But I learned so much about him in those few minutes.

Here's my opinion: John McCain is truly a hero. On the subject of negative campaigning, he could sling plenty of mud at his opponent but chooses not to at this time. Maybe what he faced as a POW explains his reaction to keep quiet in the face of persecution and ridicule. I know God honors this no matter who wins this race.

I feel deep concern for where this country is headed in light of the "change" that is promised by the other camp. Socialism is not only knocking at our front doors, it believes it can come in and put its feet on our furniture. Adopting this type of thinking, just because we as a nation are tired of taking care of ourselves, is not worth the consequences.

Voting correctly is one of the most powerful rights we physical possess, but praying fervently moves the heart of the Father. We need to ask God for mercy as a nation and cry out to Him to save us in our time of need. Praying is not the "least we can do," it is definitely the MOST we can do!

IMAGINE YOU GOT STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR WITH ONE OF THE TWO PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATES. WHO WAS IT AND WHAT IS YOUR OPINION?

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT HOMEWORK?

Some of my readers have known me for as long as I have been on this earth, maybe even changed my diapers.

But some of you are my newest friends.

The beauty of the blog is that we have found interesting things out about each other in a modern, techno kind of way.

Did you know I am a songwriter? I have several recordings as well, but that's another subject.

My goal this week is to bring the lyricist out in you and ask you to pen a song about your feelings for, of all things, homework. For help with rhyming words, check out www.rhymezone.com. If you need inspiration, sit outside one night this week under the harvest moon. Get out your guitar or harmonica for musical support and opine away. Who knows, the neighborhood hound dogs may even join in!

Here goes . . .

(Folksy, country flavor)

Ode to the Essay
by Chrissy Larson

Verse 1:
It was thirty two years ago I did my time,
In a High School that's so far away;
There was Algebra, Spanish and Chemistry too;
English Comp and the five part ess-ay.

Verse 2:
Now I needed my credits to walk on that stage,
Hear my name, throw my cap to the sky;
But with essays to write and exams yet to pass,
I couldn't just turn a blind eye.

verse 3:
Through many long weekends and more sleepless nights,
Than I really do care to admit;
I finally tackled what I had feared most,
My efforts paid off, every bit.

Verse 4:
I had intros, conclusions, three mains and a thesis,
The only thing left was my clincher;
Oh no . . . not a brain freeze! I'm 'bout out of time -
I'm ready to end this adventure!

Verse 5:
I finally finished those essays and more,
I "walked" and I did not look back;
But who would have guessed that I needed those skills,
To coach you and keep you on track.

Chorus:
I'm so glad it's your essay, not mine;
Watching movies is really just fine.
To Staples again,
I need a red pen;
I'm so glad it's your essay, not mine
(twice through because it's just that good)

Cyber Psalmist
P.s. I will accept nothing less than a poem!

What Do Clairol and State Farm Have in Common?

THEY BOTH HAVE ME COVERED!

Anyone learning to drive can give a new meaning to the word "stress." From rules to road signs, it's not exactly what you bargain for. 

I remember taking on the responsibility of getting behind the wheel. Drivers Ed was by far the favorite class amongst teenagers. In my day, the simulator lab was the closest thing we had to playing video games. The teacher set us up behind a monitor and left us alone until our designated time was up. 

But the most fun included three teenagers plus an instructor safety-belted into the seats of a Student Driver Vehicle. We thought we were so smart driving  around a school parking lot full of cones. When it was our turn to get street-smart, everyone in town shared a clear and present danger. The Drivers Ed vehicles were marked from front to back with flashing lights and signs; black and yellow caution stripes let the world know we were on the road. It wasn't as cool as I thought it would be. I felt like George McFly with a "Kick Me" sign on my back!

I survived and eventually got my drivers license. It was a proud moment. But if you ask my mom about her side of the story, she would tell it a bit differently. I had never seen facial expressions like that before (or since.) Her right foot was constantly riding an artificial break on the passenger side and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. 

After teaching two of my own children how to drive, I can honestly say I know how she felt. Back then, there weren't near as many distractions for the student driver . . . cell phones, text messages, GPS's, and siblings, none of which were allowed in any of my learner's vehicle. 

I, just like my mother, lived through it. Two of my children are now road savvy; my other two children are being peacefully  chauffeured from here to there. This experience has contributed to the number of grey hairs on my head, but it's nothing Clairol won't cover. 

How about you? Do you have an interesting story to tell or comment to make on this subject? Should there be a few rules added to the handbook for the parents? I'll give you a penny for your thoughts.

Question of the Week

DO HARD THINGS

As indicated by a few of the responses to last week's blog, some teens lack a high degree of confidence in themselves and their peers. That's disturbing. Twin brothers Alex and Brett Harris, 19-year-old homeschool graduates, have co-authored a book, Do Hard Things, subtitled A Teenage Rebellion Against Low Expectations. This is a terrific read for parents and teens alike. I have neither the time nor space to do a book review, but their words give us hope for this defeatest attitude.

One notable thing these young men point out is that we have come to believe in the myth of adolescence. The term teenager wasn't coined until 1941. In earlier times, a person went from childhood to young adulthood. Circumstances demanded that children take on adult responsibilities as soon as they were out of the childish phase. Why is it that society now thinks of adolescents as mentally deficient, hormone-driven, unmotivated, undisciplined goalless stumps afraid to approach life with purpose and intention?

Do Hard Things issues the challenge to teenagers to do hard things, to break out of the mold and start a "rebelution," to rebel against the self-fulfilling prophecy of low expectations. The twins give an example of a young lady, a county campaign coordinator in a statewide political campaign effort in which the Harris brothers were also involved, yet at the state's capitol. She did an incredible job. They had briefly met her and her older sister at the campaign kickoff meeting, so when they heard about the tremendous job she had done, they mistakenly thought she was her 24-year-old sister. They were shocked when they discovered the "woman" doing all that work was only 17. They were also 17 at the time, yet even they had their own preconceived notions about the capabilities of their peers. They also later found out that the girl was deathly afraid of talking on the phone, yet her campaigning position had required her to do just that. That was her hard thing, but she refused to let her own struggles or what others believed about her to define her success.

Each person has his or her own hard thing, or multiple hard things. You first might have to conquer a relatively small hard thing before you go on to conquer a major hard thing. Believe it or not, adults have hard things too. One of my hard things is letting my children do hard things! I guess I am what you would call an enabler. I began working on that hard thing this year by joining the co-op. How can you challenge yourself? What hard thing(s) can you work on?

Mrs. Brooks