This was a full-page article in the Boston Globe on Sunday.
I'm proud of them for doing so well, but I drove 45 mins to watch them play tonight and, although they won, they played lazy. They looked like they thought they could win by just showing up. I often tell the boys that they better be thankful I'm not their coach, because if I were, they'd never get away with their lazy habits.
Why is it so hard to coach kids to give their best 100% of the time, to take every minute seriously? So many of them have big dreams of playing in college, yet don't have the discipline to ever make it that far. I am not very patient with them when they sell themselves short.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
My boyfriend
Well, not really.
I'm spending the next 2 days with this guy, a 150 lb. great dane named Griswold.
He's great to cuddle with.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Little guys become big guys eventually
I'm currently sitting in my classroom, grading quizzes, and periodically being interrupted by 9th grade boys asking questions about a homework assignment. I'll hear a light knock on the door, and look up to see their goofy 14-year-old faces scrunched into the 5x14 window of the door. I wave them in and listen as they ask their questions in a very round-about, very distracted way. They can't stand still long enough to get a question out. Instead, they shove their hands in their pockets and sway side to side; or pick up something off my desk and fiddle with it; or shift their eyes from the board, to me, to my desk, to the window, etc.
The best part is that sometimes, when they're talking, I get a bit of a vision of what they will look like when they're seniors. When they're a little more aware of their own actions (note: I said a LITTLE). When they're finally as tall as their feet are big, and their faces aren't quite so babyish. It makes me smile to imagine them that way, because I know they're going to be great.
Today at lunch I was drinking a Dr. Pepper. One of my boys came, cuddled up to me, looked into my face, and said, "Miss Richardson, I know you love me. Can I have some?" The answer, of course, was no, he couldn't have any... but I did make him a deal: if he gets a C+ for the Quarter (a small miracle, really), I'll buy him a 2 liter of Dr. Pepper.
I wish you could meet these guys...
The best part is that sometimes, when they're talking, I get a bit of a vision of what they will look like when they're seniors. When they're a little more aware of their own actions (note: I said a LITTLE). When they're finally as tall as their feet are big, and their faces aren't quite so babyish. It makes me smile to imagine them that way, because I know they're going to be great.
Today at lunch I was drinking a Dr. Pepper. One of my boys came, cuddled up to me, looked into my face, and said, "Miss Richardson, I know you love me. Can I have some?" The answer, of course, was no, he couldn't have any... but I did make him a deal: if he gets a C+ for the Quarter (a small miracle, really), I'll buy him a 2 liter of Dr. Pepper.
I wish you could meet these guys...
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Thoughts on Today's Sermon: Pursuing Others' Greatness
Pastor Um’s words on friendship today prompted me to reflect on how I interact with those around me, those that I would call my friends, specifically in the area of being sacrificial and vulnerable. You see, I am very afraid of depending on friends. While I readily enter into seemingly vulnerable conversations about personal shortcomings and theological struggles, I rarely ever express practical need. My approach to friendship in the past, and all too frequently in the present, is very much the same as my approach to walking on ice. I tread gingerly, in no way wanting to impose the weight of my need on others for fear that I may need too much, and they may let me down.
To make matters worse, I’m a conflict-avoider. My motto is, “It’s no problem.” I’d much rather make excuses for others when they don’t keep their word than ever risk a fight. I can handle being stood up, I can reason away an unreturned phone call or a forgotten e-mail. If it happens too many times, I’ll just make a mental note not to depend on that person again, and move on. It’s my fault, anyway. I’m sure I was asking too much.
If I were to want to, I could tell stories of times my friends and family disappointed me that led me to this current “friendship-challenged” state; personal experience does greatly impact who we become. Yet, I have come to realize that the root of the problem lies not in what others have done to me, but in my inability to trust the sovereignty and love of God and therefore my tendency to doubt that He will use his people to provide for my needs and to greatly enrich my life.
When I think of friendship in the Bible, I am repeatedly drawn to the example of Jesus’s friendship with his disciples. While Jesus’s interactions with his disciples throughout the gospels are lessons in how to be friends with one another, his actions at the garden of Gethsemane the night before his death are maybe the most compelling for me.
Matthew 26:36-38 says, “Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, ‘Sit here while I go over there and pray.’ He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.’”
If you’re unfamiliar with the rest of the story, Jesus comes back a little while later and his friends are asleep, so he wakes them up, asks them to watch out for him, and heads back to pray. When he comes back again, they’re asleep again. He once again returns to pray, and when he comes back a third time, they’re still sleeping.
Now, you may argue that this is a bad example: Jesus’s friends fell asleep. He asked for help and they let him down. This is evidence that we can’t trust others; this is proof positive that people will always let you down. Yet, the point is that Jesus asked.
Other times in the New Testament when his friends let him down, Jesus let them have it. Nobody got it worse than Peter. At one point, Jesus called Peter “Satan”. He definitely wasn’t a walk-on-ice kind of friend. He needed his disciples in order to be effective in ministry. He relied on his disciples for support, and he called them out (brutally, at times) when they failed.
If I’m nice all the time, if I’m obliging all the time, if I’m always helping and never asking, I’m a really bad friend. Part of loving is allowing yourself to be loved. Part of loving is telling my friends when they’ve let me down. Part of loving is asking for help.
To make matters worse, I’m a conflict-avoider. My motto is, “It’s no problem.” I’d much rather make excuses for others when they don’t keep their word than ever risk a fight. I can handle being stood up, I can reason away an unreturned phone call or a forgotten e-mail. If it happens too many times, I’ll just make a mental note not to depend on that person again, and move on. It’s my fault, anyway. I’m sure I was asking too much.
If I were to want to, I could tell stories of times my friends and family disappointed me that led me to this current “friendship-challenged” state; personal experience does greatly impact who we become. Yet, I have come to realize that the root of the problem lies not in what others have done to me, but in my inability to trust the sovereignty and love of God and therefore my tendency to doubt that He will use his people to provide for my needs and to greatly enrich my life.
When I think of friendship in the Bible, I am repeatedly drawn to the example of Jesus’s friendship with his disciples. While Jesus’s interactions with his disciples throughout the gospels are lessons in how to be friends with one another, his actions at the garden of Gethsemane the night before his death are maybe the most compelling for me.
Matthew 26:36-38 says, “Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, ‘Sit here while I go over there and pray.’ He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.’”
If you’re unfamiliar with the rest of the story, Jesus comes back a little while later and his friends are asleep, so he wakes them up, asks them to watch out for him, and heads back to pray. When he comes back again, they’re asleep again. He once again returns to pray, and when he comes back a third time, they’re still sleeping.
Now, you may argue that this is a bad example: Jesus’s friends fell asleep. He asked for help and they let him down. This is evidence that we can’t trust others; this is proof positive that people will always let you down. Yet, the point is that Jesus asked.
Other times in the New Testament when his friends let him down, Jesus let them have it. Nobody got it worse than Peter. At one point, Jesus called Peter “Satan”. He definitely wasn’t a walk-on-ice kind of friend. He needed his disciples in order to be effective in ministry. He relied on his disciples for support, and he called them out (brutally, at times) when they failed.
If I’m nice all the time, if I’m obliging all the time, if I’m always helping and never asking, I’m a really bad friend. Part of loving is allowing yourself to be loved. Part of loving is telling my friends when they’ve let me down. Part of loving is asking for help.
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