Christmas Gifts Galore

  A few weeks have passed since I blogged. Caring for priorities have changed my calendar recently.
  My wonderful teacher friend, Joyce Hagedorn, whom I have blogged about, slipped away December 3 after a bout with pneumonia in Cincinnati.She who shared my Mother's birthday, was a dear friend. I was unable to attend her service, but I will meet her in Heaven. Her legacy was such a blessing to so many  needy children whom she inspired.Her husband of 65 years will definitely miss her.

Christmas has been a festive time seeing my seven grandchildren. I was blessed to see them all. After Christmas Eve service and a wonderful dinner where we were invited, we hurried to Austin's home where the magic of Christmas was evident. Being six, putting out cookies and eggnog was important for Santa. The Tooth Fairy had to come, too, for a second tooth had just been lost.

Now before you think that Austin doesn't understand the "true meaning" of Christmas, not so.  He told me with sparkling eyes about "the activity centers" set up in every room. You teachers will love that, but that was his word for nativity. You can tell he is a kindergartener and a beginning reader. I hope he always remembers that true meaning of the season which can bring hope to this needy world.

And by the way, enjoy the quiet afterglow of this wonderful Christmas season that brings peace and joy.

My Name

The years have hastened by to the fall of her life. My visits to her home in that metropolitan area six hours away are not complete without me seeing her and her husband. I often reminded her if she could recall the name of that reader that I loved so well. I wanted a copy of it to pass on to my family.

The years have brought her broken bones and hip so that her sweetheart was afraid he might loose her. His despairing calls for encouragement came long distance. I reminded him I would pray. Recuperation has come and not dimmed her memories or mind.Birthdays I have shared with her soothed me and celebrated her life. I always hate to tell her good-bye as she cries when I leave.

A few weeks ago, the UPS man made his way to my little bungalow many hours away. It was a priority mailed box for me from her. Inside the box, I found a wrapped gift. Knowing it was not my birthday made me more excited. To my surprise, the torn off tissue revealed a copy of CHILDREN EVERYWHERE published by Laidlaw in the nineteen fourties. The faded copy of the old book brought me those warm feelings I had in childhood as I touched it and held it close to my heart.

My excitement brought tears and more joy as I phoned her. How can you thank a teacher who may have changed the whole course of one's life? Did she intentionally take me under her wing? Now even in old age, she had captured the joy that mentoring brings. Just as I have received, I have felt compelled to mentor as well. I may not always see the results of mentoring, but there will be growth. Giving my life away to others brings beautiful harmony for the soul, no matter the name.

My Name (Continued)

The years passed. I moved away to a distant city where I would complete high school. I wish now that I had saved her notes to me. They were like a balm to a troubled life.  College followed and I received a degree in education. During those years I corresponded with her.  She did not forget my name, nor did I ever forget what she had done for me.  She mentored a little blond haired girl who needed to know self-value and believed I had potential no matter the circumstances.  Years past and she was thrilled with every child born into our home.  She followed their progress on through college.

I made my way back to my hometown to lay my Mother to rest after an aggressive battle with Alzheimer’s. There was my mentor who had shared the same birthday with my Mother; she reminded me again. 

Retirement came for her after forty years in the classroom and she shined like a diamond in many people’s eyes.  Now she had more time to travel with her husband. One morning I received a long distance call from her in another state.  She wanted to visit my classroom in about four hours.  What pure joy it was for me to present my own third grade teacher to my students. She also wanted to meet my principal. A trophy or award would not have been more appreciated.  My joy bubbled just as it had so many years ago as an eight year old. 

My Name

I was the second child, first one to come home though as my brother, Baby Samuel, died at childbirth the year before.  So I was loved, really loved and wanted, protected, a mere seven pound baby girl,  given a big name, a name that had only two syllables. However, classmates found it hard to say. Sometimes, even the new teacher stumbled over it.  Sometimes, I was laughed at when the roll was called.  I often cried and wished I had been given a simple name like Sue.

Until one day, my third grade teacher, Joyce Hagedorn, asked us to open our new reader.  And to my surprise, there was my name in print, “Irmgard and Her Cow.” The children enjoyed the story as we read and I was delighted.  I begged my teacher to let me take the book home if my Mother would promise to return it.

Mother typed away on the old black Remington typewriter that night so I could have a copy. I promptly returned the book, this time a happier child who felt better about herself.  Thanks to that young new teacher who sensed the value of a name is very important in the self-esteem of a child.

Through the years, that yellowed brittle copy had been placed in a zip-lock bag to preserve it. As I sat and watched my Mother take "the long walk" with Alzheimers, I was proud to also bear her long name, Irmgard.