When I told a mentor about this preference for girls by adoptive parents, she quickly responded with how close boys are with their mothers in most cases. She didn’t mention fathers and maybe that’s because she was speaking to me, a single woman, but I wonder if it was partly because parenting, in some circles, is still seen as the domain of mothers.

I, myself, was mostly raised by a single mother. My father left before he made an indelible impression in my toddler brain. My step-father…well, that’s for the autobiography. Let’s just say that I didn’t have a male figure in my life that concerned himself with my physical, emotional, spiritual well-being. And I turned out okay, right.

But I see the way she looks at him. The way she hangs onto his leg. The way she tilts her head at him. The way she responds when he’s not home for her bedtime routine. I’ve had the fortune to see the father-daughter connection through several of my friends. Three of my closest friends and some children in my life are definite daddy’s girls. This doesn’t mean they don’t love their mothers, but you should see the way she looks at him, hangs onto his leg, tilts her head, and misses him when he’s gone. Just as my colleague pointed out a common mother-son bond, there is the parallel father-daughter connection.

I have a friend who has two boys and I secretly hoped that the second child would be a girl because she would be such a daddy’s girl. I say this because I know how he treats and cherishes women…and little girls need that…big girls need that, too.

It’s taken me three decades to get over my father’s abandonment and the lack of a father in my life. Now that’s me and my story; not everyone feels this way. But for me I am beginning to see the connection between this missing relationship and my walk with God.

You see, it took me the good part of a decade to know in my core that God would truly never leave me or forsake me; that nothing I could do would make Him abandon me. God as Father was foreign; I had no frame of reference…well, I did but it wasn’t accurate. Now of course, God has never done anything to make me think that He would leave me, but memory can impede progress. To the contrary, He’s treated me like the apple of His eye, with a price far above rubies. And you should see the way I look at Him, the way I hang onto His leg, the way I tilt my head toward heaven…I am finally and forever Daddy’s girl.

I was reminded that in the third grade I was hurt in school, and instead of being taken to the hospital, the principal took me home to a mother who had just given birth and had no car at her disposal. My step-father had just left for work and this was before cell phones.

So I show up at home with those brown paper towels that were in the bathrooms of public schools so many years ago soaked in blood and plastered to my left side of my head. My mother, high on hormones from just giving birth, takes off the paper towels and howls. Panicked, she paces trying to figure out what to do with a broken and bleeding child and a newborn.

Hebrews speaks about the fact that even though the world was to be subject to our dominion, everything is not under our feet, but we see Jesus, and everything is under His feet.

Jesus showed up. My step-father came back home because he’d forgotten something and I went to the hospital. I ended up with 20 stitches above my left eye. I still have a half moon shaped scar there.

I don’t remember much of the hospital visit, but I do remember my mother telling me that the doctor told her how very lucky I was. Had I been hit inches to the left, it would have hit my temple, with probably death as the outcome. Had I been hit inches to the right, I may have lost my left eye.

As a child this really didn’t have the impact that you might think. Now, watching Gabby Gifford’s amazing story and recovery (and I am in no way comparing my 20 stitches to her brain injury), I am thankful. But more than thankful, I am charged to lean in to find out as Paul states, what I have been apprehended for. I was saved, physically and spiritually, and it behooves me to lean in to God to get direction regarding this new life that I have.

Perhaps you haven’t had an instance where you are aware that God stepped in to save you physically, but we all have access to His spiritual salvation through Jesus Christ. I urge you to place this at the top of your list of things for which you are thankful this year. And in response to that gift, lean in.

So this is me. This is me because of what happened to me as a child. My parents and family (other than my grandparents) did not have the goal of ‘do no harm’ where I was concerned….well, if they did, they had a really odd way of showing it. But I had teachers, wonderful teachers who thought I was precocious, engaging, vivacious, gifted. And they made sure to do and say things to help me see these things in myself.

So why am I saddened, but not surprised? Because the world is not this way. The world does not care about children. The world’s goal is not ‘do no harm’. Now, parents, don’t get me wrong. I think you care deeply about your child and the children in your circle. But children are not cared for in our country, or our world.

If children were cared for in our country, then people would not be holding vigil outside Joe Paterno’s house, chanting, “We love Joe.” Instead, a football coach is revered.

If children were cared for in our country, then an investigation into allegations against Sandusky would have been done years ago when those allegations were first made. Instead football is king.

If children were cared for in our country, then legislation limiting starchy foods, particularly French fries, would have been passed by the Senate. Instead politicians were swayed by potato farmers and child obesity is at its highest in our country, making them the first generation to be less healthy and less likely to outlive their parents.

If children were cared for in our country, the numerous cover-ups of molestations in the Catholic Church would not have occurred. Yet time again we see musical chairs with priests who’ve been accused.

So I am not surprised when children in schools are not put first. Instead we Race to the Top, we test and track, we under-prepare teachers.

Until we stop believing that this is a zero-sum game, our goal will never to be to ‘do no harm’. (See David Labaree’s new book, Someone Has To Fail, also.)

The phrase ‘do no harm’ is a precept of medical ethics taught to all medical students. However, there are instances where this is not lived up to. Henrietta Lacks, the Tuskegee experiment, are instances where it is at minimum questionable whether the goal was to ‘do no harm.’ However, I believe the medical profession (thanks to M&M conferences, IRB) has regulated themselves and made themselves accountable to one another and outside forces in ways that attempt to corral people toward compliance. Also, higher malpractice insurance and death of the patient are likely immediate outcomes of non-compliance with do no harm, also help to force compliance in some, but not all, circumstances.

The question then is how do we, as teachers and teacher educators, hold one another accountable? The current accountability system of testing isn’t working. I am not saying to throw the baby out with the bath water, but to consider ways that teachers hold those in their building, in their district, accountable. Ways that teacher educators hold each other accountable. Ways that those who know what the constraints and conditions are in schools (not policy-makers, school board members, and critics – my favorite being those education journalists…), but current and former teachers, administrators can establish clear, assessable procedures for holding each other accountable to the goal of ‘doing no harm’ to other people’s children.

I have some answers, which space does not provide me to speak to them here. But my goal is to ‘rile you up’ and give fodder for conversations because I really do not believe that we care about doing no harm to children. And until we do, nothing we put our hands to will prosper long-term. Nothing.

This moves me from saddened to angry. I want to call it righteous indignation but that’s a really heavy term. Yet it’s what I think we all should feel about all the reasons I’ve given for why I believe that we don’t care about children. One issue is that death is not an immediate outcome of non-compliance in any of the instances I’ve mentioned above. One could argue that there isn’t a physical death…but death of potential, possibilities, and in some cases physical death in the long-term is a likely outcome. (Some project prison capacity needs using 4th grade reading scores…just saying.)

As I write, I sense Matthew 17:17-21 as having bearing,
Then Jesus answered and said, O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I suffer you? Bring him hither to me. And Jesus rebuked the devil; and he departed out of him: and the child was cured from that very hour. Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, why could not we cast him out? And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, if ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you. Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.

The answer then being 2 Chronicles 7:14,
If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.

So I turned on the television to avoid thinking about these issues, I turned to Joyce Meyer who was talking about fear. She stated that it’s not a sin to feel fear, but that what we do in response to fear demonstrates our faith/trust in God or lack thereof. This resonated with my pastor’s message two Sundays ago where he talked about Eve eating the fruit and that the act of eating the fruit wasn’t the big issue, but the fact that she didn’t trust God. Back to Joyce. She went on to say that whenever God commanded His people not to fear, the only reason He gave was because He was with them. No other reason not to fear. Not because you will get exactly what you want, or because there is no need to fear. But “Fear not, for I am with thee” (Isaiah 43:5). Joyce continues that we should move forward even in the face of fear. Easier said than done, Joyce.

However I knew that this message was timed for me. The reason I have no idea where I will be this time next year is that I will have to respond to the decisions made by others. Life is about responding to others’ moves, yet we often forget that. Marriage. Child-rearing. Driving. Conversations….at least the good ones. All these require you to respond to the decisions made by others. Yet when the implications of decisions become great, we often realize how little we control in our daily lives. When spouses decide to stray, when children decide to rebel, when drivers and speakers decide not to abide by the rules of the road or common courtesy, we realize that there is very little outside ourselves that we can control.

This is the space I inhabit currently.

Yet still, there is also very little within ourselves that we can control. I spent the morning with my endocrinologist. My immune system has decided that it doesn’t like my thyroid, and it didn’t consult me before making this call.

So I know enough (which is very little) to go to the scriptures and sit there on days like today. I sat down in Isaiah 43. Thank you, Isaiah. He reminds us of just who God is…He is the one that has redeemed us, called us by name, and we are his.

I am reminded that, “Yea, before the day was I am he; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand: I will work, and who shall let it?” (Isaiah 43:13)

When it feels as though your life is no longer in your hands, you must remember that it was never truly in your hands or it shouldn’t be. As a Christian, you were and will always be in God’s hands.

It reminded me of a comment in small group this past week, where a mother spoke of her frustration with her children’s lack of understanding the concept of time. How long things take and adjusting accordingly.

When we are ‘in charge’ of our time, we are often less obsessive, yet when others become involved, often time becomes ‘of the essence’. We become frustrated with children who are oblivious to how long it will take you to drop them off and get to work. We frown at the loquacious woman in front of us in the Starbucks line. And we whine when God doesn’t move or respond when (and how) we want Him to.

I wonder if God feels the same about us? Does He shake His head when we don’t get how things flow in sequence? Does He curl up His lips when we try to rationalize our (in)actions in prayer? Does He shoot a glance toward Jesus when we again fail to do what He’s asked in His Word?

I know He’d be justified…at least with me. I know you have it altogether and get it right the first time…but there are a few of us who are slow on the uptake.

And in His mercy toward me – the one slow on the uptake – He uses His timing to remind me that He is in control of time, and that His timing is impeccable.
And although Timing may not be everything… but it’s a lot. And God’s timing, I’m learning, is impeccable.

Last Sunday, my small group leader slid into the seat beside me, and winked at me. Offering comfort in a time when I was teetering on the edge.

This Sunday, a stranger walks up to me and invites me to join her small group right after I’d learned that my group leader would be moving to California.

Just this moment as I was thinking about timing and the unsettled issues of my life (transition at work, ending apartment lease, etc) and the upcoming big presentations I have to make about teaching and research, a colleague walks in to tell me how great a job my former students are doing as student teachers.

God in a still small voice is reminding me that He knows exactly what I need (and regardless of the brave front that I put up) and will meet that need. That He is the shade at my right hand (Psalm 121). Not only does He watch over us, preventing harm, but He also provides comfort, hope, grace, peace.

I had a conversation with a lawyer who had a teaching certification and taught high school for one year…and then ran away screaming. I asked him about his certification program (as a person who works to certify teachers) to get ideas as I try to improve our current process. He let out this long sigh, and proceeded to tell me (as if I had no idea) just how demanding and difficult teaching was and how much of his time outside of the classroom it took him to prepare lessons. Hence, he left teaching after that one year and went into law, which he said was not nearly as difficult and demanding a career. His concerns were regarding the fact that he only received one year of training to be certified as a teacher. The fact that he only got one hour of prep during the day and spent six to seven with students. And that there was little if any professional development or mentoring that met his needs as a beginning teacher.

These are all things that teacher educators would like to change, and have offered remedies for. Some have been instituted in progressive education programs and schools. However, until we all consider teaching a complex and demanding craft, the amount of time to be certified won’t increase but will continue to decrease with alternative certification programs, such as Teach For America, which allow people to teach with even less training. These are programs government-supported, even lauded and applauded. Also, teachers will continue to be paid incommensurate with the amount of work it requires to do their jobs well. (Yes, I hear you saying that there are those who don’t put in the requisite effort and don’t do the job well…My response: perhaps they needed more than one year of training, better mentoring and professional development, more support from administration, and parents. And if that doesn’t rebuff your arguments…there are also poor professors, horrible doctors, shady financial advisors…what shall we do about them?? This is not to say that we shouldn’t do a better job of training, retraining and vetting teacher candidates.)

If only the majority of the US population understood the complexities and demands of teaching. Not only understood but appreciated them and responded by fully funding education, education research, and education training…and fully supporting public school teachers.

As a new school year begins, thank a teacher. Support teachers.

Ms. Smith quotes Dr. Cornel West who defines hope in terms of action that goes beyond the current evidence, beyond the unknown concerning the outcome, action that imparts vision spurring heroic actions in spite of the odds…hoping against hope, so to speak.

As the lover of words that I am, I began to research this word, “hope.” Many like to use it and as Marilyn Chandler has so eloquently said, our misuse and overuse of words makes them insignificant, hackneyed, and impotent.

Merriam-Webster defines hope as, “to cherish with expectation of obtainment,” “to expect with confidence.” Yet the definition given by Ms. Smith quoting West more explicitly talks about action. A very different understanding than our current Western understanding of hoping…”wishing and hoping”.

The Bible speaks of hope often with several scriptures in my favorite book, Romans. Paul writes in Romans that hope is a product of tribulations, patience, and experience. It is what saves us. Here hope seems very similar to faith…both are spoken about in the Bible as things that are nullified when seen, “hope that is seen is not hope” (Romans 8:24), both lead to subsequent action on our part in response to our faith and our hope.

Hence it is again this space where God is asking us to trust (another definition given by Merriam-Webster of hope) in Him. Hope in Him. Act based on Him, not the circumstances…this isn’t being optimistic or pessimistic, but certain not in the circumstances but in Him. This hope causes us to endure tribulations…to embrace the struggle because from the struggle, from the tribulations come patience and experience and hope…..and hope maketh not ashamed.

Those last four words struck a chord because I have been avoiding writing…avoiding hoping, hoping not to be ashamed. Ashamed as a researcher, writer, scholar, teacher-educator. If my students were to do this I would make them look me straight in the eyes and tell them how capable they are, how if they work hard they will not be ashamed. I can often instruct better than I can enact…this lesson’s for me.

The Bible instructs us to hope in Him, in His Word, in His mercy…all of which tell us that we are saved by grace through faith, with Him all things are possible, and He has cleansed us of all unrighteousness….easily said, easily written, hard to act from. To act from, by this I mean, we should act from a stance of hope, from a stance of assurance and certainty in Him, in His Word, in His mercy. Not that we don’t always do this, but there are those things…where we don’t want to look the fool and we lose hope.

Don’t lose hope in what God can do. Remember what He has done, has promised and hope in what He will do. Lean into it. Embrace the struggle.

I now realize what the old folks meant when they said they wouldn’t take nothing for their journey…the journey, tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope (Romans 5:4, KJV).

I am acutely aware that I am different. Not just older, but changed. It is nothing like seeing something that has not changed to remind you of how much you have, or vice versa. I am also aware that I am not dressed for this occasion. The dress code has not changed either.

Although the place looks smaller, the people are the same…older, but the same. Ushers in white, still in the same stations as when I was eight. Choir members in the same spots in the choir box, different outfits, still matching, singing the same hymns, reciting the same chants.

Pews still covered in mahogany crush velvet, the Commandments on the wall, the Communion table in the same spot, the pulpit with the podium covered with that material with the double crosses on it. More than that, it is still a place where only the few in-crowd are allowed to walk. Not just anyone can walk up there. The pastor in his robe, minister so and so, etc.

People say that familiarity, sameness is comforting…yet it feels odd, to me, that a church feels so the same. Being grafted into the Way, the Truth, and the Life should produce growth, right? Fig trees, without figs…I think.

The service, still three hours long….ushers in white, mothers in their Sunday hats, deacons in vests and wingtips. Language and gestures related to Sunday mornings. Songs sung. Scriptures read while standing. Prayers drawn out with the requisite three, “Lord, Gods” and five “Amens”. Form intact.

“Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away. For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, Ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth ” (2 Timothy 3:5-6, KJV).

The warning rings in my ears…do we focus more on the form than the function of Sunday morning service? Do we come simply to present a form of godliness? To repent from last week, particularly Saturday night’s shenanigans? To feel okay when we ask God, again, for that new job, car, spouse, promotion, house, fill-in-the-blank? Because we’ve been doing it since vacation Bible school, or when we took the ‘right hand of fellowship’ or because we promised Nana as she passed on? To check it off our ‘to do list’?Is this why we do what we do on Sunday mornings? Do we go for form or function?

First let’s talk about this word solitary. As an only child from the union of my mother and father, I’ve felt solitude. This feeling of solitude was compounded when both my mother and father married other people and had other children. My life’s journey – having lived in five states and moved four times in the last five years – has caused me to feel solitary. Being single has added to this feeling of solitude. Also being a Christian with relatives who only go to church on holidays, and being an academic in a family where most didn’t complete college….all these things have caused me to feel as though I was the “solitary” that God would place into a family.

And He has…in His exceedingly, abundantly more than I could ask or think fashion. I have families all over this country. People with whom God has linked me so inextricably that I am sure we will be together until the end of this world.

But I am still, more or less, a solitary person. I enjoy alone time. I enjoy stillness. I enjoy quiet. All at the same time. This I realize is different from many people today who like to fill every hour with something. Life today seems to mirror the Red Queen’s race: “it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!”

I used to think my solitude was something to shake off, something to pray away. And yes, God said it is not good for Man to be alone, yet Jesus often stole away to a quiet place with God. He confined himself to solitude with God: to hear, learn, and grow as a result.

The key to these solitary confinements is that they are with God. The first moment of solitary confinement that I can remember was when I was about four years old, sitting on the steps of my great-grandfather’s barn…alone. It was after my great-grandmother’s funeral and I had slipped away from the main house and all the people. Sitting there I spoke to God. I wanted to make sure my great-grandmother would be taken care of. And God assured me that all was well with her….and with me.

Without these moments of solitary confinement with God, I would not have been able to withstand my life’s journey or become the person God is forming me into. Now, many years later, I am grateful for having always been a solitary kind of person. Yet God calls all of us to steal away, to lean in if you will, to engage in solitary confinement with Him. All He asks of us in this time is that we come to Him believing that “He is and a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6b, KJV).

Mrs. Obama brought to life Harriet Giles, Sophia Packard, and Rev. Frank Quarles using their own words, allowing them to speak to the graduates of their passion, their commitment, their sacrifice for the initial 11 students and every Spelman woman that came after. She reminded the graduates that they had been instilled with the same intensity and passion as the sisters that had gone before them.

The First Lady called the graduates “the culmination of their sacrifice”. What a charge. What a motivation. I realized the connection of this statement, of being “the culmination of their sacrifice,” to the gospel. We, as Christians, are the culmination of God’s sacrifice of His only begotten Son, of Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross, and every other Christian who’s sacrificed to spread the gospel, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and take care of the poor, orphaned, and elderly.

As the culmination of their sacrifice, we also are charged to continue to “press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” by continuing the work for which their sacrifices were made. Remembering these sacrifices should motivate us to lean in, press forward, and persevere.

Thanks to Mrs. Obama for such an inspiring speech; thanks to God for the sacrifice and the revelation.