Good Grades

A note to my readers:  I just want to thank you for reading my blog.   Last month I started this blog  and only posted for two weeks in a row and my total page views for November were 271.  Even though this might not be much for some people, I am flattered that so many people have taken the time to read.  Thanks!

Today, as I was driving, I decided to just take in some of the views around me.  I had the radio turned off as I often do, and I was just able to see the things around me.  This is probably good, considering that I was driving.  But I'm talking about actually paying attention.  None of that zombie driving stuff. And before you judge be about the zombie driving, know this:  You've done it too and I've never been in an accident where I was driving.

Side note: The only accident that I can recall being in was when my brother rear-ended my mom's van. My mom was driving and her dog and I were passengers.  Thank God that no one seriously injured, even though I wanted to deck my brother in the face, in a loving kind of way.

Getting back to the story-  One of the things that I noticed this morning was a bumper sticker that said, "My Child is a Good Citizen at Cerbat Elementary."  My first thought was that the parent in front of me should just go ahead and pat themselves on the back.  Give yourself a cookie, because your child is well behaved.  However, as it often goes, one though led to another. And then another.  And finally, another.  The following is a chronicle of the thoughts that I had while looking at this bumper sticker.

I started remembering the bumper stickers that my siblings and I brought home when we were kids.  I think most of us kids had been given more than one bumper sticker that read something like this: "My Child is on the Honor Roll at P.T. Coe Elementary School." This was a green bumper sticker with white lettering.  No matter how many my mom already had on her car, I always felt like we should just keep adding them.  It would act as a scoreboard in a sense.  But that never flew. So the extras went on bulletin boards, filing cabinets, and I think I even put one on my bike once.

Now even though the green bumper sticker with the white lettering was something to be cherished, it was pretty much a blessing from God to come home with a white bumper sticker with green lettering.  This meant that you were on the "Principal's Honor Roll" and that you had made an A+ in every subject. I'm sure that my sister, Sarah, had several of these, but I only remember ever getting one.  It was like I had won the lottery! Like the Lord's favor just shined upon me!  I'm pretty sure that I convinced my mom to add this one on her car because it was a pretty special occasion.

I don't really know if they still give out Honor Roll stickers, because I  haven't seen one lately. It got me to thinking about something else:
Has society gotten so consumed with the fact that achievements shouldn't be rewarded?  I mean, good behavior is great, but that should be expected.  It was expected of me. I would get a good whopping if I acted up in school (which happened a lot).  Why do we think that we should be rewarded for things that are normal?

My daughter is only 3 so I haven't had much experience with the public school system, but I know what's going to happen when my daughter achieves something more than what is expected of her.  I will make my own bumper sticker telling the world that my daughter went above and beyond.  Not because I'm trying to have a contest with other parents, but because I want everyone to know that I am proud of her and give her a reason to keep going.  Of course, there are more things in life than just bumper stickers, but that's just a thing I'm going to do.

This all brought me to my final thought (for now).

How many "Christians" believe that God should reward them for good behavior?  I used to be one those people that thought that just doing good things and loving God was going to be enough.  But why should we get rewards for being good citizens? Just because we go to church once a week, or sing in the choir, or help in the nursery doesn't mean we are doing what God wants for us.  Before you get upset, remember that I am speaking to myself as well.  I want to be more than just a good Christian. It's hard, but that's what I want.  Someday I would like to hear the Lord say, "Good job, Brent.  You did more for me than what everyone else expected."  Not because I want to be better than everyone else, but because I want to fulfill the calling on my life.

I woke up with a thought in my head, and wrote it down (I think I can write a song about this). As I was praying this morning, I told God that "my purpose is to declare that You are Lord."  It's more than just existing.  What's your purpose?

Quiet Remedies - Part 2

Read Part 1 if you haven't already: http://brentingroum.blogspot.com/2011/11/quiet-remedies-part-1.html

In the words that follow I promise to divulge the reason why I cried yesterday.  But before that, I need to finish telling you about what happened between my father and I.

So there I was. Wait.  What a dumb way to start a post.  Let me try again...

I sat on the couch in my parent's living room about to tell them what I had done and about the mess that I had gotten myself into.  I wasn't there because I was in the neighborhood and just decided to stop by.  I had basically made an appointment with my parents because "I need to talk to you about something."  That, in and of itself, applies a huge pressure to any situation.  I don't know if my parents knew what was coming next or not.

Now, I'm not going to go into detail about what I had done because I'm not going to scratch at an old wound.  I'm sure there will be a day where I feel like talking to you about it but not today.  At any rate...

After I had told my parents about what had happened, I was shocked at my dad's response.  There was no hint of surprise on his face.  He was not enraged, as I thought he might be.  In the calmest form I have ever seen my dad, his exact words were as follows: "Okay. Just know that I love you."  Whoa! Wait. What happened to my father.  This was a guy who was accused of throwing scripture portion books at Bible Quiz matches. And I promise he tried to run me over in the car once (the jury was still out on this one up until the day my dad passed, and will remain unanswered until I actually make it to heaven and ask the Lord Himself about it).

I had seen a part of my dad that I can't consciously remember seeing before this point.  He was kind.  He was gentle.  And most of all, he didn't have a whole lot to say.

This is where it started.  It was my realization that I could just go and hang out with my dad. There was nothing like just going over to his house and sitting with him.  It always seemed like he knew my troubles. He knew about the stresses that I was going through and in most cases, I could tell that he had been there before.  The one thing that I loved about my dad is that he never tried to tell me how to fix my issues.  He just let me sit there and think about things.  If I had a question, he was there to answer it.  So on most days, after we had lunch, I would just go over to the house and sit on the couch. We had already had our conversation about all the things we liked to talk about. So that's what we did.  We just sat there.  It was so refreshing.

Now, getting back to yesterday:

I've been pretty stressed out about a few things, mostly having to do with Christmas, and I was looking for that place.  When I had remembered it, I started balling like a baby. I had to text a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) just to tell him that I missed my dad.  I really wasn't sure what was going on.

After a few minutes, I came back to Earth.  I started thinking about God. I feel really bad about this but it wasn't until yesterday that I realized my dad had become an amazing example of my heavenly Father.  They both knew what was going on with me.  They both understood my hurts.  And here's the most amazing part of it all:  Through the silence of my Earthy father, he had taught me to listen to the sound of my heavenly Father. Wow.

Although I miss my dad, and I miss going over to hang out with him, I have figured out that I need to find that new place of peace.  Just a place where I can simply take comfort in the silence.  The Lord is there sitting with me, and He's ready to answer my questions.  He even gives me some advice.  I can thank Mark Ingroum for teaching this to me, even though its been about a year and a half since I've seen him.  I would say that I hope to be at least half the father that he was to me, but no: I want a double portion of that blessing.  Just as Elisha said to Elijah, "Let me inherit a double portion of your spirit."

Where is that place that you like to go to hear from God?  What have your parents taught you about God with just their actions?

Until next time...