Life Lessons

     Earlier today, while browsing through coloring books at K-Mart, I heard a mother warn her child that the monster in the next isle would come and get him if he didn’t obey her. My first thought was, “What are people teaching their children?” Threats and lies like that only work for so long before the child learns there is no monster, and his mommy is a liar.

     Later, in the checkout line, the cashier tried to scan the piggybank a little boy had with him to carry his money. His dad laughed and said, “She’s trying to charge you for your money! That’s an oxymoron.” The boy’s immediate response was, “I’m not a moron!” His dad went on to explain what an oxymoron was and to ask him where he had learned the word “moron.” He was shocked to hear he himself had said it before.

     Driving home, I started to think about the things we must learn and then teach others. The extent of the things my students don’t know constantly shock me, and it reminds me that even simple knowledge and manners must be taught before others can be expected to know them. Say thank you when given a gift. Wash your hands after using the restroom. You can’t cheat on your work and then expect to know the answer when it is asked on the test.

     What are we teaching the next generation? Should the social issues we increasingly encounter surprise us?

     On my drive home I started thinking about the simple things I learned and who taught them to me. I made a list and thought I would share some of them with you. What about you? What do you remember learning? What is important for children to know?

1. The joy of giving—Uncle Dave
2. Give gifts that people might actually like and use—my brother, Jon
3. Color in the lines—My preschool teacher (I actually remember learning this lesson)
4. Boogers are alive and should not be eaten—my brother, Jon
5. Electricity is painful and should not be played with—my brothers, Dan and Mike
6. How to change my brakes—my brother, Dan
7. How to install my car’s water pump—my brother, Dan
8. How to change my brake lines—Dan
9. I don’t need to wait for others to help me or do it for me—my brother Dan
10. How to bleed my brakes—YouTube
11. How to drive—my mom, brothers, and sisters
12. How to drive a stick-shift—my sister, Angelika
13. How to drive like a maniac—my brother, Jon
14. Effectively clap for optimal sound—my friends, Jon and Dan
15. How to ride a bike—my dad
16. To find ways to help people before they ask—my kindergarten teacher
17. Write my name in cursive—my grandma
18. To say fire in Spanish—my cousin, Erika
19. How to vaccuum correctly—my dad
20. Greet people and look them in the eyes when walking into a room—my mom
21. How to dribble a soccer ball—my sister, Angelika
22. How to take a good photo—my dad
23. How to shoot a basketball—my brother, Jon
24. The cup game—Caroline, my mentor since 7^th grade
25. The value of spending time with God—Caroline my mentor since 7^th grade
26. Euchre—Terry, Caroline’s husband
27. Love classical music—my dad
28. I could be funny, even if just by accident—my mom
29. To make empanadas and yerba mate—Dori
30. A love for Argentine culture—Dori
31. 1+1=2—My “Big Sister” from our local college
32. Aspirin is a drug, so I was in fact, not drug-free—My cousin, Peter
33.  The definition of gossip and that it was not a good thing to do—Stephanie, a classmate in first grade
34. Africa is not a country, but a continent—my sister, Darlene
35. How to swing dance—my sister, Darlene
36. Sledding does not always require actual sleds; trash bags will suffice—my sister, Darlene
37. Vinegar and baking soda can create enough pressure to cause a soda bottle to explode—my brother, Dave
38. Science is amazing!—my brother, Dave
39. I could write well—my boss, Brenda
40. How to install and wire lights—my brother, Dave
41. To apologize and own up to my mistakes—Jon
42. To stick with one or two general themes when decorating a room—my brother, Jon
43. Don’t eat grapes randomly from a bunch; pick off a small group and eat those so the bunch doesn’t look ugly—my grossmutti
44. How to properly peel a banana—my Aunt Maria
45. How to drink water without making noise—my Uncle Heinz
46. The value of hard work—my dad
47. How to crochet—the lady at the farmer’s market
48. How to cook—my mom
49. A love for books, sports, and basically anything they loved until I was at least 15—my sisters, Angelika and Darlene
50. To appreciate new music and enjoy concerts—my cousin Erika
51. Never hang up on someone, even if you're mad at them; it is the immature thing to do—my brother, Jon

I quit.

Not Upset

meaningless.

©2010 Lis Fussle

The Path I Took

Sometimes I get the feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be. It’s not because I feel hugely dissatisfied with my life. It’s more of a feeling that I could be elsewhere if not for the choices I’ve made. The choices that keep me here. Choices like college. Really. Was I meant to go? Did I bother to ask?

Before I went to college, I went to Bible school. I had something I miss deeply—fellowship. I lived in a house full of those whose hearts mirrored my own. We wanted to go, and we did. We desired to serve, and we did. We yearned to praise God, and we did.

It was a community where one could find deep conversation with those who only wanted to refine understanding. If you were hurting, they gathered to lift you up. If you needed prayer, they sincerely gave it.

I could have stayed, but prudence pulled me away. I wanted to go and share what I had learned. I wanted to recreate that community. I wanted to find such close and like-minded friends.

I have found glimpses of what I saw there, but nothing that compares. Life gets in the way, and people keep each other at arms length. There doesn’t seem to be a desire to learn, and even less of a desire to converse. I can’t find the iron I once had. It leaves me feeling dull.

I hear from those who decided to keep on. Those who decided the world was their mission field. They went. They went to China, to Myanmar, to England, to Chili. They went and I yearn to follow, but I can’t.

It could be a lack of faith. It could be fear. It could be bad stewardship.

It could be that I’m already there. That mission field. I know that I’m a visitor in this place. It’s not my home. But I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything here and I feel a little alone. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong and I’m the only one to blame. I feel lost and broken here and bogged down by the pain. I feel like I let everything get in the way. I can’t see where I’m going and it drives me insane.

I feel like I could do so much more, if I only I would stop getting in God’s way.