Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Matthew 5:5

March 22, 2012 I slept for most of the day. My energy level was low. My legs, arms, and back are aching more each day. My stomach feels like it has a lump that becomes more prominent after I eat. My appetite is slowly beginning to change. I have a headache on and off throughout the day. And...that’s the good news.....:) Still, life is good. When my mom was in the hospital, I went to her home to check to make sure everything was alright. In her front yard, she two rose bushes that tended to like her babies. As I pulled up to the house, I did not see her rose bushes. I walked up the steps to look for them. Where the rose bushes once grew, I found stubs that had been cut back (way back) to be level with the soil. I thought, wow, is she going to be upset. When I mentioned this to her in the hospital she just smiled. I asked her what happened. She told me she did a little trimming. Absent mindedly, I said, “A little trimming??” She just smiled. Those roses meant everything to her. I guess she knew once she died there would be no one to take care of them since Tom, my brother and I lived out of state. David, our brother, had his own home to look after. I never mentioned the roses after that. One year I was teaching in a little school district outside of Austin. It was a little country school district. The district had one high school, one junior high school, and three elementary schools. The original school house for the elementary school where I taught, had been torn down. It was a one room school house. The teacher was required to have a loaded rifle in her room at all times to ward off Indian attacks. My classroom was one of several portable buildings way in the back of the school property. People affectionately referred to its locations as “The Back Forty.” On any given day it was not unusual to see cows, who had gotten out of their pasture, or horses grazing under the trees near the portables. The setting was beautiful. The children were from good country stock. I had a fourth grader who would fall asleep in class everyday. He was a sweet boy. When I would ask him to try to stay awake, he tried his hardest. Later on that year I found out why he was so tired. His family owned several acres close to the school. Every morning this little guy would wake up at 4:00a.m.so that he and his siblings could do their chores. They would milk the cows, feed the cows and other animal, and complete any other morning chores their father had for them. At 6:00a.m. they ate breakfast, took a shower, dressed, completed any homework assignments they had, then walked to the bus stop. They did this everyday, even on the weekends. I found out about this morning routine one Saturday morning when I was driving down a back country farm to market road. I loved driving this road. For miles and miles all you can see are wheat, corn, and milo fields, pastures with cows, Texas Long Horns, sheep, goats, and horses living below the beautiful blue Texas sky. As I drove with the windows down taking in the fresh country air, I noticed an old pick up truck gaining on me in my rear view mirror. I thought, “Great. Just what I need. A Texas cowboy , hillbilly with nothing better to do but ride my bumper.” As the speeding truck approached, it swerved to my left to pass me. I kept driving feeling relieved that the truck would pass me and leave me alone. The truck pulled up right beside mean and the driver began blowing the horn. I looked to my left,and what do I see? The top of the head of my little fourth grade student who slept in my class. I yelled, “ Gerry, is that you?” “Yes. It’s me Miss.” Shocked but delighted to see him, I asked him to pull over. “What are you doing driving a pick-up truck? Do your parents know where you are?” “Yes. They know where I am.” “How long have you been driving?” “For a while now. My father taught me. I help around the farm. I drive to town to pick up groceries for the family, feed for the animals, run errands for my mom. Stuff like that.” “What other jobs do you have on the farm?” He proceeded to tell me with the confidence and pride of a fully grown farmer. He was a sharp little guy. You could tell he had been working on the farm since he could walk. “So, that’s why you’re always tired?” “Yes. I try to stay awake but its hard.” As I looked at this child, I remember my mother telling me about growing up in Pennsylvania in the 1920's and 1930's. She attended a Catholic School. She and her siblings had to walk to school everyday. The distance was about 2 miles. When the weather was cold, my grandmother would bake potatoes in the morning. The potatoes were given to my mom and her siblings to put in their pockets to keep their hands warm on their walk to school. The potatoes were put on top of the coal burning stove that heated the school room, to keep them warm. At lunch time, the children would eat the potatoes. If you know anything about the winter in Pennsylvania, you know the weather gets bitterly cold. Today, children have the luxury of riding school buses and still complain! I looked at my little guy standing on that back country road on a Saturday morning when he should have been sleeping in or watching cartoons like most kids. He really felt bad about sleeping in school. Turns out he was sleeping in most of his classes. “I’ll tell you what.” I said to him. “You my friend are a hard working little man. You do more work in morning than most people do all day, and still you come to school. Maybe we can work something out for you to get some rest during the day. Maybe at recess or part of your lunch time. We’ll work something out. I’m proud of you. If you don’t finish all of the homework I gave you this weekend, don’t worry. Just try to finish the homework from your other teachers.” He smiled and said goodby. I kept driving towards Bastrop, Texas my final destination. On Monday, I visited each and every one of his teachers to tell them about his farm chores. I asked them to give him a little break. Don’t be so harsh on him. They were all surprised to hear how much responsibility he had at such a young age. The teachers agreed to work with him more. They saw him in a whole new light. He was no longer that “lazy kid “who always slept in class. Mr. Peele was a third grade teacher at this little school. He was loved by the students, faculty, and parents. He had an outgoing personality. Always had a greeting for everyone, a joke, a smile. He taught for several year at this school. One year, the school began and Mr. Peele was no where in sight. The principal announced to the faculty that over the summer, Mr. Peele had died. We were all devastated. We knew that when the students returned and did not see him, the beginning of the school years was going to be a challenge. The students wanted to have a memorial service for him at the school in the back lot with balloons, poems they wrote about him, and to plant a rose bush in his honor. Mr. Peele loved roses. After the rose bush had been planted and the balloons drifted off over the country side, one of his students from the previous year said a few words about his beloved teacher. It went something like this. Mr. Peele, We plant this rose bush in your honor. We love and will miss you. However, you will always be with us. I know that whenever I see the leaves on this rose bush blowing in the wind, that will be you waving at us. I have two rose bushes growing outside of the window where I work on my computer. This morning, I noticed two new roses and many new leaves. I thought of my mother. As the gentle wind blew the leaves, I realized my mother was saying hello to me. She has been outside that window for a while now, for years. I have a feeling that mom knew my fate long ago, after she went to heaven. Now she waits for me. I will not trim my roses. I want them to be there when the children in my neighborhood go to school. Each morning, as they pass my home and when the leaves blow, it will be me wishing them a good day at school.