From Celebrity to Criminal

No, this post isn't about Lindsay Lohan or Mike Tyson or Paris Hilton. A hundred years from now (or less), they will have faded from the public memory.

Something they don't share with the man who rode into town to cheering crowds on a Sunday, only to be mocked and executed as a criminal before the week was up. Events we are still talking about 2000 years later.

Talking about and celebrating. My father took this picture while my family was attending the Palm Sunday festivities in Jerusalem in 1958.

Lindsay and Mike and Paris didn't lose their celebrity status when they were convicted of their crimes, and neither did Jesus of Nazareth.

But here is the crucial difference: Jesus was sinless. He had no guilt to convict him.

Well, that isn't quite true.

He was guilty of love. A love so great that he paid the penalty for the sins of all humankind.

His heart was heavy and he died in anguish. But he did it by choice.

For me. For you.

And that's something to remember not just during Holy Week but every day of the year.

Finding Love at--A Writers' Group?

Between my own marriage ceremony in 1979 and my daughter's in 2006, I attended only a handful of weddings.

But last Monday I went to my third one in as many years. Not for my friends' children or my children's friends, either. For my own friends.

No, it isn't elderly widows or widowers remarrying. Believe it or not, I hang with a younger crowd on Saturday afternoons.

That's when the Highland Writers' Group meets. HWG members and guests critique each other's work, but we also share friendship.

And some members share even more.

Gordon and Heather were the first. They met at another writers' group, but it was at HWG that their romance blossomed and grew. And we got to watch it.

Mike and Janine were the second. They did meet at HWG.

That's two couples brought together by their common interest in writing.

Admittedly, Monday's wedding was different. Ken and Sunisa didn't meet at HWG, nor had Sunisa ever attended a meeting. Still, we felt like we knew her from Ken's descriptions. And as at the earlier two weddings, there were enough HWG members to fill a table at the reception.

So if you are lonely and looking for love, don't try a bar. Join a group that shares one of your interests, be it photography or bowling or writing.

Because love may be waiting in the chair next to you.

Happy 100th Birthday, Girl Scouts

Or happy belated birthday. I'm a week late.

Juliette Gordon Low held her first meeting on March 12, 1912. From the original 18 girls, the organization has grown to over 3.2 million members. I'm proud to be one of them.

Back in the days when girls began later than they do now, I was a Brownie for one or two years while living at DeTour Village, Michigan. I don't remember if I started in fourth grade or fifth grade, but at the end of that time I thought I had "graduated" from the Brownie level. Then we left on sabbatical and I discovered that Brownies were older in Scotland. So I had to a Brownie that year, too.

We returned to DeTour in the summer to find that our small village had swapped Girl Scouts for 4-H. And I never did progress beyond the Brownie stage.

By the time my daughter's turn came, we were living in the Chicago metropolitan area and Girl Scout eligibility started in kindergarten with Daisies. Caroline was a Girl Scout from kindergarten through high school, and I was co-leader of her troop the last six years of that time.

The picture shows my troop, with parents, at the girls' Gold Award ceremony. The Gold Award is the highest award for girls, and every member of our Senior troop earned it. In doing so they learned leadership skills, contributed to the community, and added an impressive achievement to their college applications.

Actually, I did progress beyond the Brownie stage by becoming an adult leader. I even bought a lifetime membership. And when Caroline moved up to college, I bought her one, too.

"Girl Scouting builds girls of courage, confidence, and character, who make the world a better place." That's why I'm proud to be part of it.

So happy birthday, Girl Scouts.

When "No" Isn't Negative

Saying "no" to people who ask for your time is like the number zero. Sometimes it is neutral, and sometimes it isn't. When you put a zero after a one, it becomes ten. If the one was positive, then the ten is a higher positive number. If the one was negative, then the ten is even farther down the scale of negative numbers.

We classify "no" as a negative, but that isn't always true, either.

My church is in the process of nominating people to serve in elected positions for the next two-year term, and I received a telephone call asking me to be on the Board of Stewardship. I wasn't home at the time, but Roland knew what my answer would be, and he gave it for me.

"No."

I sing in the choir and am an active member of the Voters' Assembly. But more to the point right now, I am training to be a Stephen Minister.

Stephen Ministers are laypersons who provide Christian care to individuals going through a crisis and in need of someone to talk to. As Stephen Ministers, we learn to listen effectively and to maintain confidentiality. When assigned to care receivers, we support them as they work through the situation. We also provide them with information on community resources, such as vocational training or cancer support groups. But we do not solve their problems for them. That's their responsibility.

Stephen Ministry is a huge time commitment. It requires 50 hours of training, which at my church is spread over five months. After completing this initial training, a Stephen Minister normally meets with his or her assigned care receiver once a week. Stephen Ministers also attend regular meetings with other Stephen Ministers and their leaders for peer support and continuing education.

Yes, it's a heavy commitment and a scary one. Still, God is calling me to this ministry, and I am confident that he will give me the inner resources to do it well.

But overcommitment can lead to stress or half-hearted effort. And that is what would happen if I said "yes" to serving on the Board of Stewardship. While board service is worthwhile on many levels, it's the wrong thing for me at this time. Instead of doing one thing well, I would be doing two things poorly. And that's harmful to both.

So don't be afraid to say no when saying yes will water down your effectiveness.

Teacher of the Years

I was going through some of my father's slides and came across this picture of my favorite teacher. I think my brother took it when they were on a chemistry field trip. I'm sorry that we moved before I got to take chemistry from her, but I did have her for algebra.

I'm also sorry that I never told her how much she meant to me as a teacher. Dr. Shula Giddens was not just teacher of the year. She was the best teacher I had in all my years of formal education. And she died without ever hearing that from me.

When the husband and wife doctors moved to DeTour Village, Michigan, our small town didn't have enough people to support a two-person practice. So Mrs. Dr. Giddens became a high school teacher who helped her husband on the side, and he handled the practice while substitute teaching on occasion.

What made her such a good teacher? It wasn't that Dr. Giddens was a well-educated woman with an excellent grasp of her subject, although she was. Nor was it her ability to explain complex concepts in simple English, although she did that, too. What made her an exceptional teacher was her interest in and knowledge of her students.

Let me give you a rather unusual example.

I was a shy, insecure high school freshman with neither athletic ability nor good looks. I did have friends, but I wasn't popular, and I wanted that desperately. The only thing I had going for me (or so I thought) was my brains, and brains aren't high on teenagers' lists of popularity qualifications. But since my grades were my only source of self-esteem, I worked hard in school. I needed to prove to myself that I could do something.

Algebra was easy for me. I willingly explained the homework to my classmates, but that wasn't enough to make me popular. So I would move my tests toward the edge of my desk and make sure that my arms didn't cover the answers.

And Dr. Giddens caught me.

That's when she proved how well she knew her students.

Most teachers would have simply given everyone involved--including me--an F on the test. But instead of flunking us, Dr. Giddens said something like, "The next time I catch you cheating, I will give Kay an automatic A."

That approach wouldn't work with many, or even most, students, but that's the point. Dr. Giddens didn't use a one-size-fits-all method to deal with cheating. She knew her students well enough to fit the punishment to the criminal.

And it worked. It may have been partly the embarrassment, but the main deterrent was the thought that I might get a grade I didn't deserve. And where is the pride in that?

Dr. Giddens knew how badly I wanted to earn my As, and she used that knowledge to stop the cheating. That's what made her such a good teacher.

And I never thanked her.

Do you have a teacher of the years who is still living? Then tell him or her while you still can.

Because we all like to know that we have made a difference.

Table Topics

On Saturday I participated in a Table Topics contest. I belong to Toastmasters International, and Table Topics is its way of teaching members to think on our feet. As a regular part of each meeting, the designated Table Topics Master calls up members (and sometimes guests) and poses a question that the member hasn't seen before. The speaker gets only a few seconds to think before starting to talk.

Earlier this month I won my club contest. Then Saturday I competed against the top two contestants from each of the area's three clubs.

At regular club meetings, speakers often receive different questions. For the contest, everyone received the same question. To keep anyone from having an unfair advantage, all contestants left the room and were called back one at a time.

While we were awaiting our turns on Saturday, one of the contestants wondered aloud whether he was required to answer the question asked. During regular meetings some clubs allow the speaker to ignore the question and talk about a different topic, but this was a contest.

That's when we got into a discussion about the purpose of Table Topics. We all agreed that it helps us with extemporaneous speaking, but we didn't agree on whether that means we should stick with the topic in the question. One reason I never became a trial lawyer is because I'm not good at thinking on my feet, so that's a skill I want to learn. But how will I learn it if I can change the subject whenever I want?

The person who raised the issue held a different view, contending that learning to speak without notes or advance preparation doesn't require you to answer the question asked. And I agree with him to some extent. But if you can choose a topic you are comfortable with whenever you don't like the one you are given, does that really teach you to think on your feet?

At the club level, the contest question was, "Which cartoon character is most like you?" (or something along those lines). Mickey Mouse immediately popped into my head, but I discarded him because I didn't see the parallels. So I tried to think of a different character and quickly rejected the Disney heroines that flew through my mind. In desperation, I returned to Mickey Mouse and started talking while I was still thinking.

The essence of my speech was that Mickey Mouse began as an undeveloped character and matured over time, and I hoped that was true of me, too. I also mentioned that Mickey was an ordinary person rather than a superhero, and so am I. By the time I finished, I was quite satisfied with my answer.

On Saturday, the contest question was, "If you had unlimited funds, where would you travel?" A much easier question for me, especially since several of us had been talking about the Great Wall of China right before the contest began. So I started by saying I had an unfair advantage and explaining why. Again, I was satisfied with my performance. But I learned more from the harder question at the club level.

When the person who had wondered if he could change the question was called in, he answered the one that was asked, and he took second place. I took first, but that was just a bonus.

Because I'm in it to learn rather than to win.

Neither Lion Nor Lamb

Sometimes we roar like lions; sometimes we follow like lambs. Both are okay when they are well-thought-out, conscious choices rather than a way of life.

But some people almost always roar like a lion, and others almost always follow like a lamb. People who know me now find this hard to believe, but I used to be among the latter crowd.

I'm currently training to be a Stephen Minister, and recent lessons covered how to be assertive. That means standing up for our rights in ways that respect both others and ourselves.

A refresher course is always helpful, and that's what it was for me. I learned assertiveness when I took Introduction to Sociology as a junior at Hope College. The class met at Graves Hall, which is the building pictured at the head of this post.

To mix and mangle cliches, when the class began I was a quiet little mouse who let people walk all over me. By the time the course ended, I had learned to stand up for myself.

Introduction to Sociology didn't intentionally include assertiveness training, and what I learned from that experience was probably the culmination of a longer growth process. But I remember it as the first time I Aced an assertiveness test.

The course grades were based on quantity rather than quality. Attending class was enough to earn a D. Handing in the homework earned a C, and participating in class discussions earned a B. Getting an A required doing all those things plus a project. And even the worst project was good enough for an A.

The professor divided us into small groups of four or five. Mine included a very vocal male student who pushed his illogical ideas onto the team. To my surprise, the others went along with him, and whatever suggestions or concerns I dared to express were ignored.

I could have gone along, too, and the lamb in me would have done so in the past. Or I could have become aggressive and tried to impose my own will on the group, but the lion's roar would have been totally out of character and probably wouldn't have accomplished anything except dissension. Still, something inside me rebelled at getting an A for inferior work. So I asked the professor if I could do an individual project instead, and she agreed.

Although I was thinking primarily of my own needs at the time, the welfare of every member of the group was at stake. Because I spoke up, my confidence increased. I learned new things about sociology from the project I undertook on my own, as well as gaining practical experience from observing the way the group had functioned before I left it. And hopefully other members of the group looked at my example and pondered whether they should be so quick to follow someone just because he was forceful and following was easy.

One day the lion will lay down with the lamb. But until then, the most we can hope for is to live assertively, respecting both others and ourselves.

Because respect is everyone's due, including yours and mine.