![]() To our first graduating senior class at Furlow- I was sitting in 7th grade study skills class when I first read a TIME magazine article about AIDS. I was in 10th grade biology class when the space shuttle exploded, killing a science teacher who was adored and admired by millions of Americans. I was in Alabama, teaching English at Gadsden State Community College, when a man killed innocent Americans in the bombings in Oklahoma City. I was in Columbus, Georgia, for computer training on 9/11. Now- a virus. It is a defining moment in time that none of us will forget. The Furlow teachers and I are united in our sadness and regret for the way things should have been these last few months, but we gave you the very best we had- throughout the year and for graduation. We are united in our love for your class of 2020. Every one of you. You are our precious seniors- our first graduating class and yes, I absolutely mean precious. I hope I let you know throughout the years how very much I have always cared about you. but... I was terrified that first day at Cherokee when I walked into the room to teach you as 8th graders. TERRIFIED! I had never been on a cart before. I had never been without a classroom. I had never been without a textbook program for Spanish. I had never ever taught so many kids in a building at once. You always came to me after lunch, and for some reason that always involved drama. So we talked it out. I mixed up Miranda and Adrian’s names over and over. Zach and Eric too. I still can’t spell Tinsley’s name without double checking to make sure it is right. Tahj wanted to sleep. I thought Samiya and Makayla were scared of me. Adaja made me a beautiful coffee cup, and Nathan brought in the beautiful glass flowers for Una Rosa Blanca project. Lane made a cool map of Cherokee school that I still have. I still get nervous thinking about what you guys got away with when I wasn’t looking. The pancake…the computer…. Thank you to all the girls for making posters and banners that I continue to use with little ones. High school was a rollercoaster of promise, plans, and constantly altering dynamics. Thomas would tell me not to worry so much, but I worried anyway. I was flustered but tough. I was determined but careful. You were kind but relentless. You were compassionate but daring me to teach you. We tormented each other at times. You guys made me carefully rethink how I offered art projects to go along with Spanish activities. How many conversations did I have in the halls with you? I will miss the fiestas, cultural studies days, and chili cook-offs. I actually fell in love with the idea of service learning because I still had the opportunity to teach all of you. Seeing each of you work with the younger kids was so rewarding. I was grateful for your honesty, compassion, and respect. Your capstones reflected your unique talents and interests. You built the peace garden, created school traditions, and left a legacy for our future graduates. How many amazing things did you do for our school through service learning? I admire at the scope of your achievements. You continue to challenge boundaries, break molds, and redefine personal success. You have made history! My parting words of wisdom are… Look up whenever you feel like you are going crazy and don’t have enough answers. Look around and see who you can help because it makes waiting easier when you do. Look for the good in the world. That’s what I did this morning at graduation. I saw each of you preparing to go into this world. You are the good in our world. Thank you, seniors. For teaching me. For forgiving me of my mistakes. For validating me over and over again when you never knew it. You are loved. Years from now, I hope you look back on your graduation and say That was a great day! Mrs. Arnold
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![]() David said, Keep me safe, my God, for in you I take refuge. Psalm 16:1 I miss conversations that we never got to have. Uncle Harold, my grandfather’s big brother, passed away several years ago, and I honestly regret not taking the time to talk with him more. I don’t have many regrets. I mean true make-me-hang-my-head sorrows. Of course, there are mistakes or things I might do differently given a second chance. Sometimes regret comes with personal loss. This can easily turn into resentment if I indulge in them. I simply miss my Uncle Harold. Uncle Harold was a World War II hero who flew in one of three reserve planes for General Taylor. This Georgia soldier of the 101st Airborne, Headquarters Company, taught our family about honor that we usually read about in novels. He was courage. Quiet, humble, unassuming courage. Around 1:30 am of D-Day, Uncle Harold crossed the English Channel, parachuting behind enemy lines that clear night. He was captured and sent by train to a prisoner of war camp in Czechoslovakia. Uncle Harold worked in a mine for nine long winter months near Prague. After his liberation and return to the US, Uncle Harold embraced life, marrying and raising a beautiful family. I know he had regrets that were heavy to live with, yet he smiled. He chose to laugh and to love. Uncle Harold fought his battles and he lived the life he was given. I wish I had asked him if he felt like David seeking refuge from his enemies? How did he trust God throughout these experiences? How did he pray? I only remember him saying that the men would tell each other see you back. He never imagined that he would not return home to his family. He was a warrior. It was my grandfather who told me how Mama Powers, their mom, prayed constantly for him to safely return home. This reminds me of the power of a mother’s prayer. It also reminds me of how I have learned to pray from other warriors in my life. Mary fights all battles with beauty of flowers. She and my mom tied yellow ribbons around the trees at my new house when I first moved to Americus. I was a survivor of divorce and I was coming home. Last fall, she showed me how to arrange flowers as we prepared for my daughter’s bridesmaids’ luncheon. I am amazed at her authentic love of life. Mary’s witness taught me to pray for my future- to look up for something beautiful rather than holding my head down with loss. Johnnie fights her battles by pouring herself into the kids she teaches, leaving her tender mark on their hearts and letting them know they are loved. She cared for her husband Mike as cancer stole him from her, yet she still loves him just as strongly today as she did fifteen years ago. I laughed and cried with her on the phone last night. She has the best laugh and purest tears for those she loves. Johnnie taught me to pray for the sustaining power of His grace. My aunt Patsy simply fought for everyone and anything worth battling for in this world. She passed away at the beginning of spring, but she was a vibrant woman, living her life on fire - for her Visa and Passport Company, her travel, and her family. When I was fifteen, we went to Paris, and she showed me what was possible for my life. Patsy took me to see Les Misérables in New York City and I began to study French. If it wasn’t for her, I would not have my very embarrassing yet very true Lewis Grizzard encounter. Patsy taught me my finding prayer- a prayer of simple faith for God’s will to be done in small and big moments of searching. Liz, my dear teacher friend who up and moved to a farm in Nebraska, fights gently with the courage of her convictions. She is officially the coolest person I know. Three years ago, she faced open heart surgery with unwavering faith. She also rides motorcycles with her husband. When we taught together, we would pray out loud – with each other, over our rooms, or for our sanity. She taught me the power of intercessory prayer. At the risk of overusing the bird theme, I have to say that these precious people are warrior geese. Flying through their personal storms, they have honked loudest in the quietest of ways and got my attention. I listened to my prayer warriors. I try to pray all these prayers. I hope I live this life I am given as well as they have. It is one regret I do not wish to have. Harold Powers standing with his aunt
![]() “Bright eyes gladden the heart.” Proverbs 15:30. Emmett at Peace Out Camp with Phoebe Sumter May 13, 2020 Are you still amazed how quickly everything changed for us? Like all educators across the nation, I turned myself inside out trying to teach from home, knowing I was not doing a good job. World language educators thrive on the interaction – dialogue, songs, games, and conversations. My struggle was trying to recreate that “live and in person” energy and not overwhelm my students. I was trying to find balance. It was a tug of war, and I’m still not sure who won. I do know that I lost my purpose – professionally speaking. All the seemingly valuable things I had been working towards disappeared in face of our immediate needs. So, I began to walk- hours of exercising up and down my driveway, listening to music and podcasts, and talking with my dad on the phone. As I walked, I also prayed for direction, discernment, and help. My dog Fargo--my new best friend-- walked with me, watching over me. I asked for my weak faith to be stronger. How did God answer me? Deuteronomy 31:8 personified in the form of a coyote. Looney Tune visions of Bugs Bunny, Wile E., and Road Runner did NOT dance through my head. This coyote was the fastest thing I have ever seen in my life. The panic was real, and I cannot repeat the words that came out of my mouth. Unfortunately, it was not The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." (Deuteronomy 31:8) Y’all- The coyote showed up just as I finished walking and sat back down on my porch swing. It is the only reason I am able to write this. I am fairly sure that coyote runs faster than I can. If I had been on my driveway, I certainly would have died from the sheer panic of facing a wild animal as it raced towards me. Some people say that coyotes are scared of people. This one was not. If I prayed for direction, I realized it was time to stop walking in big loops in my yard. If I prayed for discernment, I know my dog kept me safe because he knew the coyote was there all along. If I prayed for help, I received it. My faith was restored on that porch. I got busy looking for ways to serve. My husband Bob works for Phoebe Sumter, and I knew that our hospital set up a unique childcare program to ensure that healthcare workers could still report to work to care for the people suffering from Covid-19. Phoebe Sumter watches over these kids while their parents watch over our families. Our group spent three days this week teaching Spanish and completing peace projects with the kids. At the facility, the administrators took our temperature. We all wore masks. Despite this, I felt at home with the kids that I taught 10 at a time. They still wanted to run in the halls. They still wiggled where they sat. They still watched, learned, and shared what was on their minds. It was a glimpse of teaching to come. My purpose was restored by the smiling eyes of the kids. The dynamic magic of the classroom is unchanged- with hands in the air, countless questions, and masks sometimes sideways or inside out or below the noses. All it took was a gentle redirect. They did keep their hands to themselves. A miracle. Those sweet smiling eyes shining above the masks took my breath away. Kinda like the coyote that I didn’t see coming. God blessed me with reassurance that I needed. It gladdened my heart. As an educator, I believe in the powerful blessings of service learning. This means meeting the needs of others and learning something about yourself in the process. This week with Phoebe Sumter kids was a gift of peace for me as much as for them. I just look at those smiling eyes and know God is still in my classroom- wherever that may be. In church, service learning is expressed as we love God and love people in the name of Jesus. At home, it is loving on my family while digging deep for patience and fortitude to complete the thousands of small tasks each day with grace. I also believe in gratitude for the people who encourage me. I am grateful... for my zoom prayer group of Spanish teachers across the U.S. who remind me that I am a good teacher. for Bob who works with amazing healthcare providers at Phoebe Sumter. for our daughter Ella, the child of a hospital employee, who gave up her mornings to serve. for my friends, Jeni, Laura, Marc, and Elena who teach peace with me. I guess I need to thank God for the coyote. I know I thank Him for those precious smiling eyes. This woman. Jana Powers. If I'm still a goose, then she is the one and only, Mother Goose.
My mother is my favorite teacher. My strongest ally. My reliable confidant. My loudest cheerleader. My undeniable mirror. Her enduring gifts to me are a love of reading, an intrepid nature, and a flare for the dramatic. She is the most determined woman I have ever known. When Jana Powers knows what she wants, she works to make it happen. She wanted to play golf, so she learned. She decided to fly a plane, so she and my dad bought one. She flew so well she could take a left landing strip while a Boeing 747 touched downed at the same time on 10,000 feet of parallel concrete runways. Once, she thought she might like to scuba dive, so she did- in underwater caverns. Jana has not left one stone unturned because she works well under pressure. She taught me the secret to thinking bigger and making it happen. You work for it. Her job and her identity were one. She was a warrior nurse- tough enough to handle herself in the operating room. She excelled at giving gas-- an expression for anesthesia that never ceased to embarrass me growing up. I may think I understand what it takes to work in surgery, but I only glimpse the strength of character and confidence it takes to hold another person’s life in your hands. Although she is no longer a nurse, she is still a warrior. Jana lights up, telling the most extraordinary war stories about her travels in the air, through a cavern, up a canyon, or down a mountain. These magnificent tales transport listeners from Scotland to Maine to the Virgin Island, across the U.S. and back to her beloved cabin on a pond. If you ask about food, you better be prepared to sit back and listen a while. Jana’s flying days ended but not her escapades. She has forged ahead into more intimidating stuff like retirement, weddings, grandchildren, and the best redecorating campaigns anywhere in the South. Her grandmother name is JaJa. This is not short for Jana. That is too obvious. Her name is lovingly pronounced zsa zsa- as in Zsa Zsa Gabor. And that’s her to a T- sparkling diamonds, poofy hair, and a compelling accent- even though it’s a southern one. With a chandelier in her closet, a fireplace in her bathroom, and a precious King Charles Spaniel by her side, JaJa is dressed in fabulous. She is one of the boujee-est grandmothers around. She earned the right to be boujee. Her on-call lifestyle meant she sacrificed her body’s health over and over again to help deliver babies across four counties. Mama went to the hospital on holidays and nights, and whenever the beeper went off insisting she get there stat. If the work was tough, she was tougher. Haitian people have a saying, "Live Wrecked for Jesus." This means picking up your cross and following Him. Matthew 16:24 tells us that Jesus told his disciples, “if any man will come after me, let Him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. It didn’t matter if Mama was working from midnight to dawn, she carried her cross- a kidney disease she developed in her early twenties. A cross is what hurts you most, what leaves you torn, frustrated, or empty. When this cross brings you to your knees, God is waiting with His strength. He sustained Mama as she excelled in her calling to a profession that saves others. The kidney disease silently ravages her body, but she follows Christ. She lives wrecked for Jesus. Mama taught me that sometimes I will need to carry someone else’s cross- like Simon helped Jesus. The Lord knows how she carries my cross when I am unable to bear it by myself. She surrounded me with people in Americus who love Christ and love me. Mama does not carry her cross alone because she has my dad, Sam Powers, right there with her-for her and for all the adventures! Fifteen years ago, when she became part of a research program at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, my dad was able to donate his kidney to her. Because of his gift, I celebrate both my dad and my mom on Mother’s Day. These two are quite the devoted pair- two for the road, in fact. Oops- I forgot to tell you that this Mother Goose, being the diva that she is, loves to sing her favorite 60s tune to us every chance she gets. It's Jana and Sam's song written by Henri Mancini. Two for the Road If you're feeling fancy free. Come wander through the world with me. And any place we chance to be, Will be a rendezvous. Two for the road, We'll travel through the years, Collecting precious memories Selecting souvenirs And living life the way we please. Thank you, Mama, for modeling God’s love to me- even when you do not realize it and especially when you don't feel like it. Your love for your family is a love from God- one that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Happy Mother’s Day, Mama! You are loved. #honklikeyoumeanit #itsallaboutthehonk ![]() One more spooky house, please! Then we go home! I knew if I begged enough, Mama would give in like she did earlier with my costume. I wanted to be Captain Hook for Halloween, but I have a zillion princess outfits. I told her Captain Hook wears an eye patch and has a fake hand. Princesses don’t wear eye patches- ever, so Mama gave in after a while. Mama looked sad again. Plus, she always worries- even about a new car. Yesterday, I heard her tell her friend Miss Johnnie that no man will look twice at a woman in a ugly green minivan- no matter how young, blond, or divorced she might be. When Miss Johnnie laughed, I got scared; it was like ocean waves crashing down on me. At first, I didn’t know what hit me, but I soon started to laugh too -- like when those ocean waves flip me around tickling me to shore. Now that’s a real good laugh. Tonight, Mama and me practice drove this little car with its top rolled back. Mama said she stands half a chance with this car, but I didn’t get it. A chance for what? Ok, one more, she said pulling over. I saw my friend boy Dallas walking, so I scrambled out and ran across the street. I call him boy Dallas cause there’s a girl Dallas in my class, too. Hey, boy Dallas. I like your cowboy hat. You got candy yet? I pretended not to hear my mama’s panicky screams even though she had almost caught up with me. Hey Elise. I’m bout to go to that spooky house. Where did you get that eye thing? It’s great! I smiled big at that. I explained to Mama before she could fuss, This is Dallas. He sits beside me in PreK class. He’s a cowboy and loves animals. It’s all he talks ‘bout. A really tall man with big boots and dark hair walked up to us. Dallas said, Daddy, she’s Elise and that’s her mama. They moved here from Alabama, but we don’t hold that against them, do we? Come on, Elise, let’s get more candy. Dallas ran like crazy to the house. I followed as fast as that eye patch would let me. I felt a little bad, so I sneaked a peak back at Mama. She wasn’t following me after all, and she was finally smiling. His daddy was talking to her under that big cedar tree. I published this story several years ago and thought I would share it as a follow up to Saturday's post. Some things don't get caught on film, so I don't have one of us under that big cedar tree. Actually, Bob and I didn't start dating then. That's another story involving a few special angels. The picture above is from our first Thanksgiving together. When people ask me about my family, I like to say that I have “three only children”. Each child has a unique set of needs, requiring a unique set of parenting skills. From the start, Elise and Dallas had different schedules, different expectations, and different homes to travel to on alternating weekends. Dallas had lots of family nearby. Elise left half her heart in Pell City. With so many adjustments, Bob and I endeavored to meet the essential needs of these two kids who were blameless bystanders on a new path that life set for them. Thank the Lord, I have never been a step mama in the Hollywood sense of the word. To Dallas, I was simply JoJo. When Bob and I married, I received the best advice of my life from a very wise friend, Charlene. She explained the rules of being a step mother: Tell him you love him and always give him the benefit of the doubt. Always. This advice has not failed me. Elise and Dallas accepted each other with the innocence that being four years old will bring. Elise likes to say that this whole family thing is all her fault since she introduced me and Bob on Halloween night nearly twenty years ago. From the beginning, Dallas loved me and Elise adored Bob. She even told me when she was five, “Mama, that is one good looking man!” I still agree. Elise and Dallas could not be more different. This includes everything from music and hobbies to sports teams and travels. Yet, they both have dark hair and were easily mistaken for a “real” family. I’m sure they resented each other from time to time- like a “real” brother and sister might. I do not doubt that they felt jealousy and frustration from us- like a “real” brother and sister might feel. We worked out all these twists and turns with a whole lot of prayer, a few fights, and occasional tears. Elise is lightening, filling a room with energy and purpose. Dallas is heartbeat, peaceful, steady, and strong. If Elise is challenge, then Dallas is compromise. You hear Elise and you must look for Dallas. Lightening can burn and heartbeats can change rhythm, but Elise and Dallas are perfectly unified in their love for the one who binds us all together. Ella. In fact, Ella is the best of all of us and a whole bunch of just herself. Ella can throw a kissy face, fussy face, or business face, making us laugh with unexpected joy. That girl is sassafras and lazy cats, baby cows and Broadway shows. She rolls those eyes, runs her races, and defends her friends. She is fierce. To me, these 3 kids are faith, hope, and love. Elise is faith- that God will send you what cannot imagine for yourself. Dallas is hope- that God knows your future when you do not. Ella is love, a reminder of God’s love for me. My family of three only kids represents God’s love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. A promise fulfilled. 3 John 1:4 tell us, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” If my children are walking in truth with the Lord, then I ask God to give them all He has given me. Walking in truth means my kids will be challenged. They will be stretched. They will serve others. They will make mistakes of huge and tiny proportions and they will ask for forgiveness. They will falter and need help. They will sometimes walk in darkness with their eyes trained on His light to see them through. They will travel the ends of the world or to the neighbor next door to tell others of His wonderful love. They will be brokenhearted and triumphant. They will cry, scream, laugh, sigh, or smile, but they will praise His Holy name. Ella will roll her eyes. Dallas will brace himself. Elise will protest. I pray they will always choose to seek Him, and then they will find Him when they put nothing else in front of Him. |
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JoAnna Arnold
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