When I was in the third grade, I had a very grouchy Sunday school teacher. In my mind, her number one goal in life was to bring out every bad action or thought I had and then promptly report it to my parents. There was no mercy with her, no feelings of love - just duty and responsibility.
My mother admired this woman greatly, which aggravated me even more. Now, as an adult, I'm beginning to comprehend just how remarkable she was.
Like most small-towned southern women, she married young. At age 14 she found herself with a telegram stating that her husband was MIA and presumed to be a prisoner of war in Germany. He was a tall man, about 6', and they say when he came home he weighed about 80 pounds. Needless to say, the first years of married life they actually had together were rough. Years later she lost her oldest child to a troubled marriage, a domestic dispute gone bad. Her youngest daughter sowed her wild oats and was horrendously reaping them as an adult, about the time I hit my teen years.
Despite all of that, this lady returned to high school in her thirty's and earned her high school diploma. She refused to take the GED, saying that felt like the easy way out. She then went to college and earned a teaching degree, then a master's in working with special education children. She taught special ed in the local school until retirement age. She then took classes in ceramics, had a shop behind her house, and she made and sold ceramics. In her "spare time" she taught herself how to play the organ as our church had a pianist but the organ was sitting empty.
I've thought about her quite a bit today. As much as I disliked her (I actually breathed a sigh of relief when she died...and yes, immediately felt guilty afterwards), she was a shining example of someone who lived her life to the fullest. She never used age or exhaustion as an excuse.
So as I'm starting to feel as if my life is half over and evaluating my priorities and what I want to do with the time I have remaining, I'm reminded of her. The only thing that's really stopping me from attempting to do the things I want to do is my excuses.
My mother admired this woman greatly, which aggravated me even more. Now, as an adult, I'm beginning to comprehend just how remarkable she was.
Like most small-towned southern women, she married young. At age 14 she found herself with a telegram stating that her husband was MIA and presumed to be a prisoner of war in Germany. He was a tall man, about 6', and they say when he came home he weighed about 80 pounds. Needless to say, the first years of married life they actually had together were rough. Years later she lost her oldest child to a troubled marriage, a domestic dispute gone bad. Her youngest daughter sowed her wild oats and was horrendously reaping them as an adult, about the time I hit my teen years.
Despite all of that, this lady returned to high school in her thirty's and earned her high school diploma. She refused to take the GED, saying that felt like the easy way out. She then went to college and earned a teaching degree, then a master's in working with special education children. She taught special ed in the local school until retirement age. She then took classes in ceramics, had a shop behind her house, and she made and sold ceramics. In her "spare time" she taught herself how to play the organ as our church had a pianist but the organ was sitting empty.
I've thought about her quite a bit today. As much as I disliked her (I actually breathed a sigh of relief when she died...and yes, immediately felt guilty afterwards), she was a shining example of someone who lived her life to the fullest. She never used age or exhaustion as an excuse.
So as I'm starting to feel as if my life is half over and evaluating my priorities and what I want to do with the time I have remaining, I'm reminded of her. The only thing that's really stopping me from attempting to do the things I want to do is my excuses.
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