Growing Closer to God...At Public School?! Is That Even LEGAL??

 Yes.  And Yes.

Public schools are allowed to have extracurricular clubs that relate to the faiths of the students.  At Taylor Road Middle School, we have the Jewish Club, the Muslim Club, and FCA, which is short for Fellowship of Christian Athletes.  Ironically, the most unathletic human being you know (me) is the teacher sponsor of this club.  Yes, God shows his sense of humor yet again!  

Really, if I am being honest, most of the kids who come to FCA don't even know what the acronym stands for; they just know that it is the Christian club.  A few years ago, my boss asked me to consider sponsoring this club.  I thought to myself, "You are asking me to share the love and salvation of Jesus with a host of middle school kids...twist my arm."  

Yes, people, we are talking about our Lord and Savior in room 114 of Taylor Road, two Friday mornings per month.  And we are praying.  Yep, prayer in schools.  It's ba-a-a-a-c-c-k!  

One of the values of the FCA ministry (FCA is actually an international ministry!) is raising up leaders.  Each year, I ask 8-10 of our kids to commit to being FCA leaders.  This requires two things.  One, they meet with me two Thursday mornings per month so that we can plan and pray over the Friday meetings.  Two, they serve during the Friday meetings by greeting students, welcoming new faces, leading games, and even straightening up the room when we are done.  Along with the student leaders, there are Taylor Road staff and fellow teachers that help lead the club, from set-up to coordinating breakfasts to "crowd control" during our meetings.  Thank y'all for all you do!!

Each meeting includes breakfast, games (and prizes!), and a speaker.  Our speakers come from three places mainly: the youth staff of Perimeter Church (my local church), the youth staff of North Point Community Church (the great big, Jesus-loving church just down the road from here), and fellow Christian teachers here at Taylor Road.  A shout out to these speakers who wake up way too early on a Friday morning, battle traffic and carpool, and come hang out with kids.  The speakers are the ones who bring the words of life.  They are teaching the kids about God as Creator, Provider, Listener, and Rescuer.  They are engaging, hilarious, and they work for cheap.  (Okay, free.  They work for free.  Rewards in heaven, people!)

The true and unsung FCA heroes, though, are the FCA moms!  These ladies sign up in two's to provide breakfast for the FCA meetings.  (Fun fact: the free and yummy breakfast might be the biggest reason that people of all faiths are willing to try out FCA!  Many a Jewish student has come and checked us out in hopes of scoring a Krispy Kreme or two while they are there.)  I want to give a shout-out to the FCA moms: we could not do this without you.  Having been given a budget of...wait for it...zero dollars, everything we do must be donated.  Y'all being generous means that 50-70 kids hear the gospel every other Friday with big smiles on their donut-crumb-crusted faces.  

We are at the end of our third year of FCA here at TRMS.  Thank you, Lord, for all that you have done for us.  I pray that you are changing these kids, truth by truth, so that they see the world as Yours and themselves as Yours.  Please keep doing it.  

When I first started sponsoring FCA, I thought that it was something that I was doing for God. In true God-fashion, he quickly showed me that it was something he was doing for me...giving me great joy in being able to express my faith in a public school setting, watching him work little miracles two Friday mornings per month, getting to share truth with kids during what is arguably the hardest three years of their lives thus far.  Y'all.  Can y'all believe that he lets us do fun things like this?!  He is just too good to us.

A Narrative Re-telling of My First Date--20 years ago--with the Jewish Bartender

 Me and the Jewish Bartender 

Twenty years ago, I did something that would have shocked my younger self:  I married a Jewish bartender.   It is a tale of long-awaited (and somewhat belated) true love.   

In my early 30’s, I found myself one of the only single girls my age in an ocean of married, happy, pro-creating people.  I was treading water, death-gripping a life preserver called Holding out Hope for True Love.  But sometimes it felt as if it is slipping out of my hands.  Twelve times the bridesmaid, but never the bride.   

Then one June day, a Monday lunch changed everything.   

Sauntering into Garrison’s Steak House, looking less nervous than I felt, I was there to meet a new (and adorable) acquaintance, Troy.  We had chatted here and there, and I was thrilled when he finally called and invited me to a lunch date.  We sat and unfolded our menus, and I stole a good look at that cute face and recognized--for the first time--a crooked smile.  I found out later that a childhood scar from a dog attack caused this gorgeous incongruity.  Ah, even his flaws were handsome.   

We bantered about work, family, friendships, and life in the suburbs of Atlanta.  My cheeks hurt from smiling.  In the course of conversation, I discovered that this fellow Presbyterian is Jewish by origin.  His eyes lit up as he began to share the details of his unexpected conversion.   

He began, “So... I used to be a bartender.” 

I must admit, this revelation was not what I expected from a conservative, un-tattooed, well-shaven young man.  A self-described modern prodigal son, he asked his parents for his inheritance so that he could realize his dream of opening a restaurant, then watched it all drain away in less than a year.  No more “Bar and Grill”, no more inheritance.  But what was left behind, he admitted, was even better: a desperate need for a different life.  I heard him say aloud things that I felt and believed.  Before dessert was even ordered, I was smitten.   

I did something very out of character (later in our relationship, he realized just how out of character this was), and I asked him to join me that night (yes, THAT night) for a baseball game.   

“So, the second date in one day?” he wondered aloud. 

“Yep.  I have two free tickets.  And killer seats.”  I offered. 

“Uh, let me think about it.”  He looked unsure.  “Hmm.  Well.” 

Panic gripped me for a moment.  Had I read him wrong?  Was he about to turn me down and end this amazing thing before it even geot started? 

I mentally reviewed the facts, “I am adorable, if I do say so myself, and he IS into me.  That smile says it all. Surely, surely, he likes me.”  

With renewed courage, I unabashedly spelled it out for him, “Here is the situation.  You have a cute girl who wants to spend more time with you...and free tickets to a sports event.  Are you really going to say no to her?” 

“Well, when you put it that way...” he chuckled, “You make a good point.” 

Later, on our second-date-in-one-day, the game was rain-delayed for three hours, but we barely noticed.  Providentially, those “killer seats” provided shelter from the steady downpour, so we were free to gaze into each other's eyes and share dreams and hopes and goals without distraction. 

Truly, I had to stop myself from putting my head on his shoulder and whispering, “Where have you been all my life?”   

That day—that plain Monday in June—changed, well, everything.  Soon after a wedding will be planned.  A home will be made.  A daughter, in time, will be born.  Three other children will be adopted into a loving home.  And two people have a new best friend.   

All because True Love found me and the Jewish Bartender.