A Really Good Mentor Lives On, Even After They're Gone

About this time last year, my husband and I attended the funeral service (life celebration) of one of my mentors.

It was a picture perfect day. The sky was that intense blue dotted with bright white clouds. The sunshine was warm on my back and the breeze soft on my face. The white church sat on a hill, nestled in the trees. The doors were open and the atmosphere calming.

If a picture paints a thousand words, then this picturesque setting seemed fitting for the man we were about to grieve. And celebrate.

The man who's temperament always brought peace to my spirit.

That's how I first knew that he had the power to mentor me, without even trying. His words, body language, and actions were never intimidating. Quite the contrary. Like so many others, I wanted to be around him.

I could name those things that make a good mentor, which he was. You know, things like sound advice, integrity in his own life and an attitude of putting others before himself.

But the quality he had that others didn't, took me a while longer to learn and understand.

He was a man of surrender.

Yes, surrender.

It's such an odd concept in our culture of pursuit and accomplishments.

In fact, most of us (men or women) long to prove our worth to others. Look! See how smart I am? How capable? How good I am at this or that?

Now I'm certain he must have struggled with pride, as we all do. But more often than not, he found a way to lay his pride down for the bigger picture, the better good.

He would clearly share his position, but without insistence. He gave others room to find their way.

You see, this is the profound dichotomy I learned from this mentor of mine. The surrender he sought each day is exactly what made him bold, brave and strong. It's exactly what made him victorious in the end.

Whatever was for the good of the whole, or the glory of God, he surrendered his will. More often than not.

So there we were. Sitting in the pews, the tears streaming down my face.

Tears of a grateful heart for having learned so much from this humble man.

The service was similar to his life - simple, yet profound. The following prayer hung in his home and was his favorite. His daughter read it to us, with the same resolve her father had. And it goes like this:

The Covenant Prayer

I am no longer my own but yours.

put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;

put me to doing, put me to suffering;

let me be employed for you, or laid aside for you,

exalted for you, or brought low for you;

let me be full, let me be empty;

let me have all things, let me have nothing;

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

you are mine and I am yours.

And the covenant now made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven.

Amen.

In loving memory and tribute to the mentor who taught me surrender. Your many lessons, so unassuming, are forever with me.

Reverend Doug Fraley - born to eternal life May 25, 2016

The To Do List

She thanked me profusely for taking her along.

Errands. I was running errands.

All day.

And she was thrilled to go!

Two different grocery stores, Target, home to serve lunch and then back out to a wholesale supply store.

Alone, my list would have been knocked out in 2 ½ - 3 hours tops.  Almost seven hours later I rolled into the driveway.

I have to be honest...I didn’t really want to take her with me.

Everything takes so much longer with an elderly person and on errand day, I like to conquer.

Nobody conquers at a snail’s pace and nobody gets through a “to do” list by admiring every single thing on the store’s shelf. But none the less, there we were. 

I wrestled with my thoughts that morning.

I knew inviting her along would mean an all day excursion but I was in get it done mode, and getting her out of the house was long over due.

I felt I owed her.

After all, when the kids were little, she went on errands with me. Back then I needed someone to push the extra cart so that I could contain three toddlers. At least one or two of said toddlers would fall asleep at some point, so she’d stay in the car with them while I ran in and out of stores quickly.

And she babysat.

Made us soup when we were sick.

Gave the kids Easter baskets for years and even let them have peanuts in the shell. Oh how they loved the surprise of peanuts cradled neatly inside! 

So, I drove over to pick her up. Even the short drive was irritating.

There are railroad tracks a couple blocks from her home and I was sure that the longest train in the history of ever would be crossing just as I approached. It wasn’t. No train in sight. 

She was dressed up. Black slacks, fine knit sweater, knee high nylons and patent leather flats. 

Me? Full on errand attire. Faded jeans, long sleeved T-shirt, comfy tennies and a cross body bag.

To her it was an occasion. To me it was a chore. And I felt guilty. 

Conversation was pleasant at first. She’s always been interested in what the kids are up to and like most Moms, I love to brag about my children. 

I loved it, that is, until she asked the same question for the third or fourth time. Likewise, she shared about her granddaughter’s birthday celebration at least that many times if not more. Sometimes she wasn’t sure who the girl was, but it sure was a nice party. Agonizing!  

I wish I could wrap up this post with a warm, fuzzy ending. 

But it was a flat out irritating day. However, she is not the one with whom I am irritated. It’s me. 

Though my intentions seemed sincere, they were self-serving. Spending time with her was just another thing I could check off of my list that day. Owning that realization is not a proud moment. 

So, where’s the lesson? How can I do better? How can we all do better? 

I guess recognizing my selfish impatience is a good first step. 

Knowing that I’m not too far away from the golden years is a decent second step. 

How would I feel if someone offered to spend time with me just to check me off their list? Ouch. Not very special, I’m sure. 

It was an internal struggle. She was quite pleased with the day. She was almost embarrassingly grateful. And I genuinely hope that’s how she felt. I would not want to leave her with the stain of my indifference. 

So, I’ll try again. 

Next time I will give her my undivided attention. Fully present! And honestly, she might not be the only one I need to focus on. I mean really focus…all in. 

No errands, no clothes folding, no Instagram scrolling, no dinner making while I’m supposed to be “listening”.

In the Bible we’re taught that love is patient. The very first definition of love in First Corinthians, is patience. I suppose it’s first because it’s so important. And difficult. 

I’ve got some work to do in this area. Do you?  

Meet Levi - Approaching Life With Common Sense

I’ve always said that every life has a lesson to teach, no matter the generation. We tend to think that the learning only happens with someone older than ourselves.

Meet Levi. He’s eleven years old and a gentleman. He opened every door for me, among his other impressive manners.

We sat down for lunch recently and shared a few stories. We also talked about birth order, movies, goals, and change.

No matter the subject, what stood out to me was his attitude. There isn’t a trace of complaint or discontent in his attitude. (Talk about convicting.)

Based on our conversation, I could tell that Levi approaches most everything with the common sense of a much older soul.  And I learned.

I came home and jotted these down, courtesy of Levi:

Being a first born carries responsibility and a need for daily patience with younger siblings who always want to follow you around. (He has three younger brothers.)

Being home schooled allows the student to totally focus on their studies and accomplish more learning in less time. Levi often gets the afternoon off. That's a good gig.

Having a Dad who likes the same kind of movies that you do makes for a fun and easy way to connect.

Not having a sister is okay. They would probably get their own room.

Levi is very close to getting his black belt. He says it takes dedication and perseverance.

His karate instructor’s words of gold that have stuck with him: "When opponents compete, it’s not the rank of the belt that matters, but it’s what actually happens when you spar."

TV is overrated. History is not.

A word of gold from Levi regarding big changes: “My family recently moved. It was a lot of work. But I could do it again if I had to.”

Did I think like that in fifth grade? I'm guessing not.

But I can now.