Dear Family,
Have you ever read the children’s book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad
Day? As a kid, it was one of my favorites, and now as a grown-up, I am more sympathetic to
Alexander’s situation than ever before. Recently I had an Alexander kind of day, and I felt like crud. I
hate feeling worthless. Nothing was going right; the shoes had the wrong color strips, the copier went
crazy, and my cereal was priceless (all from the book). In Candy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good,
Very Bad Day, my hair would not obey, I stepped in mud (in the cute shoes), someone said something
mean to me, and I could not be on time to save my life (I like being on time). Please do not see this list
as a complaint, a rant against being a missionary, or a plea to receive pity--that is not what this is. In
my story, unlike the original, there is redemption. At the end of the night, my railroad pajamas did not
fall in the sink, I was given a gift so beautiful that I had to share it. So share I will.
It was a Monday, and on Mondays I teach an art class. I love this class. This is my favorite thing to
do. I enjoy setting up the classroom, gathering the supplies, and seeing my kids. Mondays make my
week, but this particular Monday was different. It was a bad day. I was late and pressed for time. I
had been crying, so my eyes were puffy, my make-up was running, and I had a class in ten minutes.
There is something about the first class and a new project that I have discovered--it does not always go
as smoothly as I think it should, and knowing this has led to many adjustments. My first class came in,
obeying all three of the art room rules: 1) Come in quietly; 2) Do not touch anything on the table until
you are told; 3) HAVE FUN. They entered silently, with hands to themselves and smiles on their
faces. It was beautiful. I was not in the mood to be the heavy hand, so the room was buzzing with
great music to relieve tension and provide a backdrop for working children. The class was amazing.
They followed their instructions, sharing the glue. I did not know how this was happening on this day
of all days; but here it was, a well-oiled machine of cooperation and obedience. As the kids were
creating, one of my little girls came up to me and motioned me down to her level (yes, a first grader is
shorter than I am), so I knelt down. Then, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Miss Candy, I love
you.” Now normally this would be nice and sweet; but on this Monday, it was the Lord reminding me
why I do this.
Although the day seemed rough, the Lord was there, and He sent a bright and talented first grader to
remind me that I am loved, even on the bad days. So let us pray together that God reminds us that we
are loved and that Chester seeks His face. Please lift me up as I continue to learn that life in the city is
glorious and that the Father is pleased when His children listen. Thank you for reading. There is much
love in these words for you from me.
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