Written November 29, 2010
Posted July 26, 2014
The best part of spending four days with our one-year-old grandson, Gabriel, was graduating to "favored status"! He toddled up to me while I was cooking in the kitchen and grabbed my legs, wanting up -- a miracle in itself, since we only get to see him about once a month! Seeing this, ten-month-old Eligh, not to be outdone, made a beeline for me on all fours, pulling herself up my legs and begging to be held. The cousins had a heated fracas (both verbally and physically) over "whose" Grammey I really was! After enjoying the standoff between the two tenacious toddlers for a few seconds, with a glad heart and smile on my face, I picked them BOTH up, which was an immediate panacea. Does life get any better than this?
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Ticket, Ticket! Who's Got the Ticket?
Written April 13, 2013
Posted July 26, 2014
I’ll venture to guess that no teacher has an ISAT story to tell like the one I have to tell! George (not his real name) is a good boy and a student whom I really like. Elva, the other proctor, had given George his ISAT ticket to log in. We write students’ scores on the ticket when they finish, and then we file each one’s ticket. It is CRITICAL that we get these tickets collected. Well, when it came time to collect George's ticket, he didn't have it. We looked under his table, under his keyboard, under his computer, had him check his pockets, practically turned the room (and George) upside down. NO TICKET!!! George told us with a straight face that he "didn't know what had happened to it."
Elva and I knew we were going to be in BIG trouble! We dug through the GROSS stuff in both trash cans -- YUCK! We were sweating bullets! We called George out of the classroom he had gone to and had him check his pockets once again. Still no ticket! We were as nervous and upset as two cats on a hot tin roof! Feathers (and trash) were flying! We checked with the boy on his right. The boy on his right knew nothing. The boy on George's left had already gone back to class. With earnestness, we called the office and had them locate the “boy on the left” and asked them to send him back to the testing center. After he arrived, we asked if he knew anything about that ticket.
The boy on the left, much to our RELIEF, said, "Yes, I do." (Sighs streamed in unison from Elva’s and my lips!)
"Where is it?!!!?" we cried.
"He wrapped his gum in it," said the boy, undaunted.
Back to George's classroom flew I (with the blessed stool pigeon in tow), leaving Elva with the kids who were still testing.
"Where is the ticket?" I asked George once again (just to see what he would say with the boy on the left standing next to me).
"I don't know," George answered once again.
Turning to our informant, I instructed him to tell George what he had seen him do with the ticket. The boy on the left proceeded to look George square in the eye and told him what he had seen.
George put his head down and slumped his shoulders in defeat.
"Where is the ticket, George?" (softly)
George bent down and pulled the gummed-up ticket from the inside of his shoe and handed it to me.
"Oh, George!" I whispered. “Why did you lie to us?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
I then gave the normal lecture that one would give at a time like that and told him how disappointed I was because I knew he was a good boy.
George apologized profusely.
I let him go back to class, excused the boy on the left and went to work on the ticket – opening it up, peeling the sticky, goopy, slobbery unrelenting gum off as best I could, and fashioning a new back with another piece of paper so it would not stick to the other tickets.
Mystery solved. All tickets accounted for. Elva and I would sleep well.
The next morning, while I was on bus duty, George got off the bus and headed straight toward me with an outstretched arm.
“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Snyder,” he said, as he humbly handed me two folded pieces of paper – one with my name, and one with Elva’s.
After all the students passed by, I opened the unsolicited note and read, “Dear Mrs. Snyder, I apoligize for the immaturness I showed during ISATS. I should have told the truth right away but I didn’t. I lied a lot of times. This experience taught me a big lesson, a difficult way though. The lesson this experenice taught me was to always say the truth no matter how big the proplem is because the lies don’t lead you to anything. I feel like I have disappointed you. I hope you accept my apoligy.”
I told George that I had forgiven him, and that he and I would start that day with a fresh, clean slate.
I love George.
And I love my job.
Posted July 26, 2014
I’ll venture to guess that no teacher has an ISAT story to tell like the one I have to tell! George (not his real name) is a good boy and a student whom I really like. Elva, the other proctor, had given George his ISAT ticket to log in. We write students’ scores on the ticket when they finish, and then we file each one’s ticket. It is CRITICAL that we get these tickets collected. Well, when it came time to collect George's ticket, he didn't have it. We looked under his table, under his keyboard, under his computer, had him check his pockets, practically turned the room (and George) upside down. NO TICKET!!! George told us with a straight face that he "didn't know what had happened to it."
Elva and I knew we were going to be in BIG trouble! We dug through the GROSS stuff in both trash cans -- YUCK! We were sweating bullets! We called George out of the classroom he had gone to and had him check his pockets once again. Still no ticket! We were as nervous and upset as two cats on a hot tin roof! Feathers (and trash) were flying! We checked with the boy on his right. The boy on his right knew nothing. The boy on George's left had already gone back to class. With earnestness, we called the office and had them locate the “boy on the left” and asked them to send him back to the testing center. After he arrived, we asked if he knew anything about that ticket.
The boy on the left, much to our RELIEF, said, "Yes, I do." (Sighs streamed in unison from Elva’s and my lips!)
"Where is it?!!!?" we cried.
"He wrapped his gum in it," said the boy, undaunted.
Back to George's classroom flew I (with the blessed stool pigeon in tow), leaving Elva with the kids who were still testing.
"Where is the ticket?" I asked George once again (just to see what he would say with the boy on the left standing next to me).
"I don't know," George answered once again.
Turning to our informant, I instructed him to tell George what he had seen him do with the ticket. The boy on the left proceeded to look George square in the eye and told him what he had seen.
George put his head down and slumped his shoulders in defeat.
"Where is the ticket, George?" (softly)
George bent down and pulled the gummed-up ticket from the inside of his shoe and handed it to me.
"Oh, George!" I whispered. “Why did you lie to us?”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
I then gave the normal lecture that one would give at a time like that and told him how disappointed I was because I knew he was a good boy.
George apologized profusely.
I let him go back to class, excused the boy on the left and went to work on the ticket – opening it up, peeling the sticky, goopy, slobbery unrelenting gum off as best I could, and fashioning a new back with another piece of paper so it would not stick to the other tickets.
Mystery solved. All tickets accounted for. Elva and I would sleep well.
The next morning, while I was on bus duty, George got off the bus and headed straight toward me with an outstretched arm.
“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Snyder,” he said, as he humbly handed me two folded pieces of paper – one with my name, and one with Elva’s.
After all the students passed by, I opened the unsolicited note and read, “Dear Mrs. Snyder, I apoligize for the immaturness I showed during ISATS. I should have told the truth right away but I didn’t. I lied a lot of times. This experience taught me a big lesson, a difficult way though. The lesson this experenice taught me was to always say the truth no matter how big the proplem is because the lies don’t lead you to anything. I feel like I have disappointed you. I hope you accept my apoligy.”
I told George that I had forgiven him, and that he and I would start that day with a fresh, clean slate.
I love George.
And I love my job.
Scotty
Traffic was backed up more than a mile. We knew we were going to be late. I was with my granddaughter Hayley. We had anticipated this event for months, having purchased seats on the floor, ten rows away from the stage.
We were going to be close enough to see his freckles!
They called it a "Brad Paisley" concert ...
but I wasn't there to see Brad.
I was there to see Brad's opening act -- Scotty McCreery, an unassuming boy from North Carolina with short hair and a plaid cotton shirt!
How I admired that young man, even though I had never met him!
I had noticed something special in that boy since I first laid eyes on him as he stepped before the American Idol judges a few months earlier.
Week after week, during Season 10, Scotty's deep, rich vocals deeply moved his audiences and frequently raised them to their feet in applause.
But, more than his incredible pipes ...
... this boy had humility.
That is what won my heart!
Kindness oozed from him. His eyes twinkled.
Scotty was 100% genuine...
... every single time.
As Scotty made it through one cut after the other, I teased my17-year-old granddaughter about "snagging" him as a boyfriend, amidst giggles and protests!
She was a follower of Jesus.
I was "sure" he must be a follower too.
Hayley was a country girl.
He was a country boy.
They were close to the same age.
Why not??? They were clearly a match made in heaven!
During the televised competition, I looked forward to Wednesday and Thursday nights, and was always happy with the results ...
... because Scotty always made it through!
He took the judges' criticism with a great attitude -- never becoming defensive -- which endeared me to him all the more.
What a sweet spirit! And even though he didn't speak openly about his faith, I noticed that he always wore a cross (not that that is a guarantee) ... but I "saw" Jesus in him.
He didn't appear to be over-the-top "driven" to win the title.
Rather, he seemed to have a give-it-or-take-it attitude while enjoying his season in the sun.
He was just ...
... Scotty.
When he acknowledged his grandma in the middle of one of his songs, it reduced this grandma to tears! What kind of teenager recognizes his GRANDMOTHER at a cut-throat competition on national TV???
That did it! I made it my personal ambition to help him win this thing!
Each week, I voted over the telephone and then cast my ballot over the Internet multiple times!
It worked! Scotty won! And I felt like I had singlehandedly made it happen!
Now, here I was ... caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic that was not budging ... waiting to see this wholesome country boy whom I had grown to love.
We could see the stadium from where we sat ...
...there on the road in motionless traffic.
The thought of being that close, yet missing the opening act, drummed up anguish unspeakable!
I had to restrain myself to keep from jumping out of Hayley's Bronco, leaving her behind to deal with the congestion, and making a mad dash over the fence and through the car lot to the arena!
What a tragedy to be this close to seeing Scotty, and then to be stuck with "just" Brad Paisley! (No offense, Brad!)
Well, I didn't desert my granddaughter -- that wouldn't have been nice.
What seemed like hours later, we pulled into the parking lot, found a spot, and dashed to the entrance.
When we entered the main floor, there was Scotty, as big as life, singing his heart out. We found our way to our seats and began to clap along to the beat. Electricity was zipping through the air -- other people appeared to love Scotty as much as I did!
Because of the traffic jam, and the lateness of our arrival, Hayley and I missed most of the pre-show. Scotty sang one more song after we sat down, and then it was time to be graced with Brad's presence. Brad put on a good show. The audience roared throughout his performance. Feeling somewhat despondent that I had missed most of Scotty's time, it did my heart good to see Hayley enjoying the guy whom she had gone to see.
But there was a great surprise waiting for me! Just as Brad was winding down his show, he asked us if we wanted to see Scotty again. Well, as you can imagine, I perked up! Out came Scotty! He and Brad sang a couple of duets together and really worked the crowd by trailing up and down the runway.
We were so close! Just a few seats away from the runway!
THIS is where the story gets GOOD!
Scotty and Brad outdid themselves, thrilling the audience by singing up a storm! At the end, they both took trips down the runway -- right next to where we were sitting! I couldn't believe my eyes as I saw Scotty coming right toward me with his hand out! Yes, he did! He swept his hand across the flood of hands that were outstretched, and he was heading my way! My heart began to race! I hope he touches my hand, I thought as I stuck mine way up there to ensure it would happen. The thought occurred to me that I was being ridiculous, acting way out of character, but I quickly dismissed it and stretched my hand even further, waving it into the air.
Sure enough, it happened! Scotty McCreery touched MY hand! His fingertips felt so ... well ... so HUMAN! I was momentarily delighted beyond words. But then ...
... it hit.
Wait a minute, Scotty! Come back here! I'm not like all these other people! I drove all the way to Boise not to see Brad, but to see YOU! You can't just walk away like that! I VOTED for you as many times as I could to help you win! I like you for the sweet boy you are inside -- not just because you are a good singer! I deserve more than a token touch! If you only knew!
Then, in the cacophonic din of the roaring audience, I heard a still, small, inaudible (yet very real) voice from deep within my soul.
The Voice said, "Yes, I know. It hurts, doesn't it."
What? Is that you, Lord?
"I sing over you while you sleep.
I kiss you at dawn with the rising sun.
I send angels to keep you from stumbling throughout the day.
I extend grace each time you fall short of My glory.
I adopted you and have given you an inheritance. You are my beloved daughter.
I saw you crying the other day. I lifted your head and dried your tears.
You know that delicate yellow bird that surprised you in the garden? I sent that winged friend to delight you.
Remember the tiny earring that has been missing for two years? I led you right to it the other day.
I put your messed-up life back together. Remember?
Am I not faithful to give you the exact verses you need to help navigate life when you open your Bible searching for direction?
I watch your comings and goings throughout each day with great interest. You bring me joy, precious daughter, when you aren't even 'aware' of my presence.
And I hold you close to My heart as you sleep, humming a nocturnal melody in the moonlight of your room ... for I never slumber.
Oh, my daughter, how I long for more than a 'token touch' from you!"
So there, in the midst of thousands of cheering fans, I heard God's voice ... and something changed in me.
"Grammey! Grammey! Did you see that??? Brad Paisley just touched my hand!!!" Hayley screamed enthusiastically.
"Yes, honey," I smiled, hugging her and looking past the crowd, seeing only my Savior's face. "I saw that," I whispered, as we turned and moved along with the flow of fans who were exiting the stadium.
We were going to be close enough to see his freckles!
They called it a "Brad Paisley" concert ...
but I wasn't there to see Brad.
I was there to see Brad's opening act -- Scotty McCreery, an unassuming boy from North Carolina with short hair and a plaid cotton shirt!
How I admired that young man, even though I had never met him!
I had noticed something special in that boy since I first laid eyes on him as he stepped before the American Idol judges a few months earlier.
Week after week, during Season 10, Scotty's deep, rich vocals deeply moved his audiences and frequently raised them to their feet in applause.
But, more than his incredible pipes ...
... this boy had humility.
That is what won my heart!
Kindness oozed from him. His eyes twinkled.
Scotty was 100% genuine...
... every single time.
As Scotty made it through one cut after the other, I teased my17-year-old granddaughter about "snagging" him as a boyfriend, amidst giggles and protests!
She was a follower of Jesus.
I was "sure" he must be a follower too.
Hayley was a country girl.
He was a country boy.
They were close to the same age.
Why not??? They were clearly a match made in heaven!
During the televised competition, I looked forward to Wednesday and Thursday nights, and was always happy with the results ...
... because Scotty always made it through!
He took the judges' criticism with a great attitude -- never becoming defensive -- which endeared me to him all the more.
What a sweet spirit! And even though he didn't speak openly about his faith, I noticed that he always wore a cross (not that that is a guarantee) ... but I "saw" Jesus in him.
He didn't appear to be over-the-top "driven" to win the title.
Rather, he seemed to have a give-it-or-take-it attitude while enjoying his season in the sun.
He was just ...
... Scotty.
When he acknowledged his grandma in the middle of one of his songs, it reduced this grandma to tears! What kind of teenager recognizes his GRANDMOTHER at a cut-throat competition on national TV???
That did it! I made it my personal ambition to help him win this thing!
Each week, I voted over the telephone and then cast my ballot over the Internet multiple times!
It worked! Scotty won! And I felt like I had singlehandedly made it happen!
Now, here I was ... caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic that was not budging ... waiting to see this wholesome country boy whom I had grown to love.
We could see the stadium from where we sat ...
...there on the road in motionless traffic.
The thought of being that close, yet missing the opening act, drummed up anguish unspeakable!
I had to restrain myself to keep from jumping out of Hayley's Bronco, leaving her behind to deal with the congestion, and making a mad dash over the fence and through the car lot to the arena!
What a tragedy to be this close to seeing Scotty, and then to be stuck with "just" Brad Paisley! (No offense, Brad!)
Well, I didn't desert my granddaughter -- that wouldn't have been nice.
What seemed like hours later, we pulled into the parking lot, found a spot, and dashed to the entrance.
When we entered the main floor, there was Scotty, as big as life, singing his heart out. We found our way to our seats and began to clap along to the beat. Electricity was zipping through the air -- other people appeared to love Scotty as much as I did!
Because of the traffic jam, and the lateness of our arrival, Hayley and I missed most of the pre-show. Scotty sang one more song after we sat down, and then it was time to be graced with Brad's presence. Brad put on a good show. The audience roared throughout his performance. Feeling somewhat despondent that I had missed most of Scotty's time, it did my heart good to see Hayley enjoying the guy whom she had gone to see.
But there was a great surprise waiting for me! Just as Brad was winding down his show, he asked us if we wanted to see Scotty again. Well, as you can imagine, I perked up! Out came Scotty! He and Brad sang a couple of duets together and really worked the crowd by trailing up and down the runway.
We were so close! Just a few seats away from the runway!
THIS is where the story gets GOOD!
Scotty and Brad outdid themselves, thrilling the audience by singing up a storm! At the end, they both took trips down the runway -- right next to where we were sitting! I couldn't believe my eyes as I saw Scotty coming right toward me with his hand out! Yes, he did! He swept his hand across the flood of hands that were outstretched, and he was heading my way! My heart began to race! I hope he touches my hand, I thought as I stuck mine way up there to ensure it would happen. The thought occurred to me that I was being ridiculous, acting way out of character, but I quickly dismissed it and stretched my hand even further, waving it into the air.
Sure enough, it happened! Scotty McCreery touched MY hand! His fingertips felt so ... well ... so HUMAN! I was momentarily delighted beyond words. But then ...
... it hit.
Wait a minute, Scotty! Come back here! I'm not like all these other people! I drove all the way to Boise not to see Brad, but to see YOU! You can't just walk away like that! I VOTED for you as many times as I could to help you win! I like you for the sweet boy you are inside -- not just because you are a good singer! I deserve more than a token touch! If you only knew!
Then, in the cacophonic din of the roaring audience, I heard a still, small, inaudible (yet very real) voice from deep within my soul.
The Voice said, "Yes, I know. It hurts, doesn't it."
What? Is that you, Lord?
"I sing over you while you sleep.
I kiss you at dawn with the rising sun.
I send angels to keep you from stumbling throughout the day.
I extend grace each time you fall short of My glory.
I adopted you and have given you an inheritance. You are my beloved daughter.
I saw you crying the other day. I lifted your head and dried your tears.
You know that delicate yellow bird that surprised you in the garden? I sent that winged friend to delight you.
Remember the tiny earring that has been missing for two years? I led you right to it the other day.
I put your messed-up life back together. Remember?
Am I not faithful to give you the exact verses you need to help navigate life when you open your Bible searching for direction?
I watch your comings and goings throughout each day with great interest. You bring me joy, precious daughter, when you aren't even 'aware' of my presence.
And I hold you close to My heart as you sleep, humming a nocturnal melody in the moonlight of your room ... for I never slumber.
Oh, my daughter, how I long for more than a 'token touch' from you!"
So there, in the midst of thousands of cheering fans, I heard God's voice ... and something changed in me.
"Grammey! Grammey! Did you see that??? Brad Paisley just touched my hand!!!" Hayley screamed enthusiastically.
"Yes, honey," I smiled, hugging her and looking past the crowd, seeing only my Savior's face. "I saw that," I whispered, as we turned and moved along with the flow of fans who were exiting the stadium.
Making a Beautiful World
I recently saw a video about a man who was going around "making his world beautiful" by touching the lives of others in small ways. My mother-in-law and I were
cared for by such a man tonight! She
fell in the Ridleys parking lot and caught herself halfway down. While she clutched onto the car fender, I
struggled to hold her up, but I was not much help. In fact, she urgently pled with me, “Don’t
help me! Don’t help me!” (My assistance was clearly more of a
hindrance than a help!) We were in a
fine pickle! One false move by either of
us, and she would have gone all the way down, with me landing on top of
her! Suddenly, out of NOWHERE -- I mean
that literally -- came a sweet, precious, very OBSERVANT man!
He
positioned himself beneath her and pushed her all the way up, and then he kept
her steady while she shuffled to the car door.
He helped her get into the car and closed the door. I thanked him profusely and asked God (aloud)
to BLESS him! I could tell he could not
understand a single word I said. While I
was trying to talk to him, he walked away ... but not completely away! He walked to the other side of the car and
began to unload all of my groceries from the cart into the back seat!!! I stood there stunned!
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