Curing Brat-itis

"Burwell children, guess what we are doing on Saturday?"

(Blank looks.  No doubt, each one is thinking, "I hope it isn't anything where we have to spend time together.")

"We are helping with a Traveling Christmas Party!  Some church members donated a TON of toys and clothes, and we get to deliver them to families in need."

"OMG.  How boring." (says the man-child)

"How long will it take??"  (says the blonde)

"Bruh."  (says the one named after a music superstar)

"That will be fun!" (says the one who is still an angel and not a bundle of hormones--yet)

Saturday comes, and we pack the Pilot and drive to Jimmy Carter Drive.  We meet several members of Campus Church and receive our assignment:  Troy and Will are to deliver bags of food to families in extended stay motels, while the girls and I give out stockings to families who have daughters aged 5-8.  The stockings contain objects to delight any five-to-eight-year-old girl:  Barbies, coloring tablets and markers, books, hair accessories, and more!  Our stockings sit in white laundry baskets and we tailgate in the motel parking lot (with 19 other cars!) and await our Christmas "shoppers".  Oh, you should see the beautiful, joyful faces.  Each one hugs her stocking fiercely and races to her room to unpack the contents.  They are so grateful.  You know, the way we wish OUR kids were.  

What is it about living in North Fulton County?  The Burwell children observe so much wealth around them that they think WE are poor.  Explaining that we are in the top 1% of wealth in the world, as is virtually anyone who lives in any part of Johns Creek, Georgia, sounds like crazy talk to them.  Even the "good kids" often have a case of brat-itis.  What cures it?  

No doubt, at least one step towards the cure is exposing the kids to people and places where they can serve.  I find that they almost always hate it, at first.  I too am often quite UN-excited about it, if I am being honest.  But then, they get there. They personally WITNESS the needs and FEEL God using them to meet needs, and they change a little.  Just a little, but that is enough. One day at a time, right? 

On the way home, we ask the kids, "What did you think?"  Will's answer is best:  "You know, I was not at all wanting to do this, but I am so glad you made me and I am so glad we did it.  When that girl hugged me and thanked me for the gifts, that was amazing."  

Then I asked him, "How does it feel to be used by God?"  He replied, "Awesome.  Really awesome.  I think we should do that EVERY year."

I agree.

A Flat Tire in Small-town Mississippi

We are on our way to Jackson, MS, to spend our annual week with Joan, my mother in law.  (Please pronounce this Jo-Ann or you will be so sorry.). It is midday Sunday.  We have just finished listening to a beautiful sermon by Dr. Bryan Chappell (such a good name for a preacher, don't you think?!).  He challenges us to obey Psalm 100 and to be thankful in all things, no matter what is going on.  Praise the Lord!  Um, YES.   Of course.  Sign me up for that; I am in.  I mean, like Oprah says, gratitude is good for the soul.  Buy me that gratitude journal.  In fact, what is wrong with people who cannot just be thankful?!  Are you kidding?  God has given us life and health and coffee and chocolate.   And salvation and Jesus.

Right as I am questioning the grumpiness of all mankind, the "low air in tire" indicator lights up on our Honda Pilot dashboard.  No worries, we are stopping soon for a pee break and some food.  We will find an air pump and get that thing back in shape!  After all, we need to get to Jackson.  We have four crazy, loud children who are getting to the end of any intrinsic patience that they possess.  (As are their parents.). 

I will admit, the car is feeling "not quite right" as we glide into the parking space in front of Meridian's favorite ham store, The Honey Baked Ham.  I quickly open the door and peek. My spirits go as flat as the tire I am looking at.  But my husband, ever the project manager, has Plan A, B, and C before he even emerges from the car.  This will be FINE.  We will get the spare, put it on, get to Jackson and work this out!  An hour later, we finally have the spare freed from its comfortable nest under the car.  Can you imagine what YOUR family would be like at this point?  Would you like some cheese with that WHINE?!  Will is "helping" Daddy.  That is code for slinging the tire jack around as if he is holding a bat.  Rihanna is lamenting on being adopted into the wrong family, with the white people who have no idea how to change a tire.  Cate is yelling at Will,;Alana is yelling at Cate to stop yelling at Will, and I am thinking, "It is so weird how God had us hear that sermon about gratitude right before a flat tire!  It is almost as if he KNEW this was about to happen."  

Several kind Mississippians stop to try to help.  Each one seems to make the situation a little bit worse.  Bless their hearts.  Apparently, our previous lug-nut tightener had done his job with a vengeance, and his work is impossible to undo.  AAA arrives and inflates the tire enough to get us to the local Firestone, but he is doubtful that they can help us on a Sunday afternoon.  (Come again?  What was that thing he just said?) 

We get to Firestone after two stops to re-inflate the tire.  AAA guy is right.  They will not even begin the work, because it is almost closing time.  We beg.  We try a bribe.  We are not good bribers.  This car is not getting fixed today.  The family gathers in the Firestone customer area, "discussing"what to do...with many loud, and sometimes, immoral words.  There are no car rental places open.  We must spend the night.  It had never entered my mind two hours ago that we would be stuck in small-town Mississippi tonight.  I decide to check out AirBnB...maybe there is some big beautiful house down the street that we can stay in!  When life gives you lemons....well, you know.  My search produces five options!  Five!  We get to choose between five homes for the evening!  No wait...not five homes...five TENTS in Quitman, MS.  Tents, y'all.  Tents.  

(All the while, as we sit in the Firestone lobby, there is a beautiful woman watching our family meltdown unfold.  When she gets up to leave, I comment, "I bet you feel a lot better about YOUR life than you did before we came in!")

Once again, no worries.  It should be easy to find a hotel for our six family members and two chihuahuas.  (Sarcasm)  We find a "Tru Hilton". (Why must people misspell words?!) Next, how do we get there?  Uber of course!  Fun fact:  there is only one Uber driver in Meridian, Mississippi.  After some time, we locate her and she comes to our rescue.  We squeeze six humans, two dogs, and a few suitcases into her car.  Later, Will wonders aloud, "What did we do to deserve this?"  I remember the sermon that I listened to a few hours ago.  I correct Will, "The better question is, what have we done to deserve any of the good things that God has done for us?!  We do not deserve Him.  We deserve a thousand flat tires."

"Why did all of that happen?" I wonder, as I sit in Joan's comfortable, beautiful home in Jackson, MS.  I suppose it is not really any of my business to know why God does what he does.  I think about how that flat tire could have had us on the side of the road and in harm's way, but instead He got us off of I-20 and into the parking lot.  I think about the people that God sent to help us.  I think about our Angel Uber driver.  I think about the great night of sleep we all had at the Tru Hilton.  I think about how we have jobs and money to pay for flat tires and unexpected hotel stays.  

I am sending a shout out to Bryan Chappell, whose sermon prepared our hearts for this adventure.  But, be assured that we will never again listen to one of your sermons on a road trip.  

Writing to Make a Dfference

 How many middle-schoolers do you know?  

I know 450.  At least.  (Is that impressive...or horrifying?!). I teach about 150 students each year, so I am just counting my kiddos from the last few years. I adore teaching middle school, and you can skip the jokes about whether my mental faculties are in check.  They are, in fact, not.  This year I relished my return to teaching ELA (English Language Arts). 

 But I have to tell you something, my nearest and dearest.  I will just whisper it so no one else hears it.  Just me and you.  Lean in.  

They write really, really poorly.  Horribly, terribly.  Makes-me-want-to-weep-and-wail-when-I-read-their-essays bad.  

Just for fun, how about an example?  In January, I receive a writing assignment with this sentence:  i am really liking the book club i am in.  I use this misstep to remind the student that we do not write like we text, and it is not okay to use lower-cased I's in this situation.  I's must be capitalized.  She edits her work and returns it to me.  I am really lIkIng the book club I am In.  I throw her a puzzled look and she exclaims, "I capitalized ALL the I's this time, just like you said!"  True story.  Your education tax dollars at work.

Humor aside, this is a serious situation.  The short-term consequences of writing inability are low essay scores and sub-par ELA grades.  But the long-term consequences are far worse.  Failure to earn scholarships, or even admittance, to universities; unremarkable resumes; unimpressive email communications.  Bottom line:  few people want to hear the "voice" of a mediocre writer. 

Why does that matter?

Students grow up with dreams in their hearts.  Some long for racial justice, and good writers use the written word to inspire others to move toward this.  Some long for sound economic policies, and good writers use the written word to teach these.  Some long to value life, and good writers use the written word to illuminate these values.  But mediocre writers have no voice to change anything.  Their audience is small.  Their impact is smaller.  

Writing words is absolutely vital for change.  (I am going to go way out on the proverbial limb and say that I am positive that God agrees with me.  He did, after all, write a 1,000 page book for his people). Our kids miss opportunities to make a difference if they cannot write good words.  They are cut off at the knees.

I teach for many reasons.  I love kids and I enjoy helping them to know and grow.  But this idea of writing to make a difference has me extra-motivated these days.  I want the good kids to write good words to change things.  I teach to do my part to make it happen.  

Finally, shameless plug...I am working on a short curriculum for training middle schoolers in writing skills in a tutoring setting.  (I told you I was feeling extra-motivated these days!)  Reach out for more information.  I have tutored for two years now, and I notice that when kids are taught in small groups, the learning is exponentially more effective!

And a plea to my middle schoolers:  learn to write so that someday God uses you to change this messed-up world!  My goodness, we need you.

Predicting the Future

The Burwells have a hidden talent that we rarely share, but we have decided to make it known to our family and friends.  

We predict the future.

Kind of.

Every year on April 1 (our anniversary), we go out to eat somewhere fancy.  After the main course, we pull out an envelope that contains ten predictions that each of us made exactly a year ago.  We read them to see how many have come true over the past year.  We always include two that are about the nation or world, and the rest are typically about our family.  My husband is King of Predictions and has won this contest almost every year.  After we add up points to see who won, we make ten predictions about the next year and seal them up.  By the time April 1, 2023, rolls around, I can assure you that we have forgotten all of our predictions.  

Last week as we celebrated 17 years of loving being married, I was amazed at my husband...8 of his 10 predictions happened!  That is a new record.  I was like, how do you do it??  And he said, You always predict what you want to happen, but I predict what I think will actually happen.  Hmmm....good point, babe. 

Which of his predictions came true?

My tutoring business is making some good money!  (Please contact me if your child needs help with writing and reading!). I enjoy meeting with anywhere from 1 to 4 middle schoolers on Saturday mornings.  

Cate adores Chattahoochee High School.  She is about to complete her freshman year there, and just performed in "Matilda Jr." with her music theater class.

Also, Cate has made it through the year without a boyfriend.  Whew.  Dodged that bullet.  (Don't get me wrong...she will handle dating wonderfully, I have no doubt.  It is the boys that I don't trust!)

Gas is over $3 a gallon.    

Troy is still working from the basement...our favorite thing that came from Covid.  He takes the kids to the ortho, gets the oil changed on his lunch break, and makes dinner every night.  Y'all, it's like I have a wife!  

Rihanna has had a rough year at River Trail Middle School.  (We affectionately call it, "River Jail".). But this is all on her.  She thought it would bring her deep happiness to go back to our "home" school, but it has not.  So she is headed to Chattahoochee High School in the fall.  

Will played football in the fall and did a great job, even did a little quarterbacking, and the experience built his confidence.  

Babe was wrong about Alana though.  He thought that her stage-fright might keep her from being in the 5th Grade Chorus Musical, but I was right on this one...she was in her school's production of Annie, Jr. and she rocked it!  

When I wrote my 2022 predictions, I tried to say things that could actually happen, rather than what I want to happen.  Maybe this year I will be the Queen of Predictions.  Until then, if you have any questions about your future, you might just reach out to Troy Burwell!