Happy New Year . . . 2019?!

We had a discussion the other day about how long one could, ethically speaking, get away with wishing someone a happy New Year. Is it a once-and-done holiday like the Fourth of July or Arbor Day? Or is it a period of time like Christmas or a birthday? I feel that during the entire month of January, one safely can wish a person a happy New Year, as long as one has not yet seen the person yet since the 1st. But once February comes, the New Year becomes the Now Year, and we simply do not wish one another a happy Now Year.

Ethically speaking, then, we cannot, without violating cultural norms, wish you a Happy 2017 or Happy 2018 (or a Happy Halloween 2016 for that matter). Even though it's been that long since we've posted anything here, the statute of limitations has run out. Sorry. We'll just have to pick it all up from here and strive together for the future.

So it's been  a little while [ahem] since our last post. That's just because nothing at all has happened since then. So you're completely up to date!

Actually that's not true in the slightest.

Ginny, age 12

Ginny is now 12 and in 6th grade. That's officially middle school around here, and it comes with a locker, science fair projects, and after-school activities like guitar club and Math Olympics. She's won the Principal's Award for having the highest GPA in her class every year since 2nd grade and is a perfectionist like her Daddy and confident and social like her Mama. She loves Star Wars, any book she can get her hands on, and going WAY above and beyond on school projects.

Cora, age 9

Cora is the life of the party. (Search for the hashtag #lifewithcora on Facebook if you don't know what we mean.) She's in 3rd grade and is killing it, keeping us all laughing and doing just fine in school herself, thankyouverymuch. She loves Star Wars, the Dork Diaries books, and The Greatest Showman. 

Juliet, age 5

Juliet started Kindergarten this year, and is already starting to read the words she sees around her. She hugs just about everyone she sees and confidently tells us her opinions on just about everything. She loves unicorns, dancing, and coloring.














Perhaps the largest change has been with our job situation. In March of 2017 Greg accepted a position at the World Vision Storehouse in the Bronx. The job matched his experience and abilities far too well to not at least apply for, and he ended up getting the job. He coordinates the volunteers who come in from all over to sort donated product and stock shelves, as well as anything else they need him to do. The job involves both physical warehouse work as well as interactive computer work, which suits Greg just fine. The most stressful part of his day involves finding a place to park when he comes home. 

Bethany has carried and run with the Priority 1 torch. Prior to the World Vision job, Greg was usually the one who went around with the various groups who came to the city to serve, but now Bethany is the one who leads devotions and guides them from place to place. She has fully taken the mantle of the Assistant Director role, and in my (Greg's) opinion, is doing a better job at it than I ever did. 

We are committed to communicating with you all much better than we have. Please forgive us for that. Thank you for your prayers, for your financial support, and for your encouragement. 

Oh, and check back to this page in the coming days and weeks, as we will have more updates, news, and thoughts to share. And we'll get that header photo updated as well.

Mr. Glidden, Music Teacher

Wednesday, eight days before the beginning of school. I hand in two unsolicited resumes to the office at Manhattan Christian Academy (MCA) and tell them that both Bethany and I would like to be added to the substitute list. They are thrilled, especially when I tell them we could do middle school. Apparently it's harder to find subs for middle school.

Friday evening, 6 days before the first day of school. The assistant principal calls to tell me that the music teacher had to resign unexpectedly because her apartment building was sold and she had to vacate within the week and had decided to move back to Florida. Would I consider either being a long-term sub for the position, or even to take the full-time job?

Wait, what now?

I have a teaching degree and experience, though the experience came over a decade ago. I have general knowledge of music theory and have led worship countless times informally and for a year and a half on staff at my church. But a music teacher I am not.

My classroom, arranged for a review game

Until I was. Bethany and I prayed about it and sought counsel from a few people close to us, and I told the assistant principal Saturday night that I would long-term sub until they hired a full-time teacher. We believe that, as Andy Stanley would say, this was "the wise thing to do." More on that in a moment.

The first day I can get into the school to begin to prepare formally is Tuesday (Monday was Labor Day). I feel wholly unprepared, overwhelmed, and nauseated. Everyone we tell about it responds with encouraging, optimistic messages and prayers, for which I am extremely grateful, though they do little to help me get a full night's sleep.

I set a goal simply to get through the first two days of classes, and then to worry about the following week. The music teacher at MCA instructs every student in the school, from pre-school (3 year-olds) to 8th grade, so there are 10 different levels. There are far too many students for me to learn more than a few the first couple of days. I cover basic rules and expectations and try to implement some standard procedures. Friday afternoon arrives. I come home and collapse on the couch, exhausted.

No one knew how long this position would last. I figured it would be at a minimum two weeks, and at most it could take half the year or more. My biggest hang-up for going all-in was the two large concerts that the music teacher coordinates, one before Christmas and one in the Spring. In addition, pre-K and Kindergarten have their own concerts, also orchestrated by the music teacher. The concerts are big deals, and parents and family pack out the building each time. I really had no interest in being in charge of such large events, and the assistant principal knew of my concerns. I told her after each of the first two days to continue interviewing applicants. Many of the faculty and staff at the school expressed to me, some subtly and some less so, that they thought I should come on staff full-time. I was flattered but steadfast in my conviction.

Classes varied. Some were trickier than others (middle school is an interesting time in one's life whether you live in New York City or rural Pennsylvania), and my lessons succeeded to various degrees (that's a euphemism for "sometimes I wanted to bash my head against the wall"). Some of the kids were enthusiastic participants, some were overly talkative, a few were occasionally defiant, and many waved and yelled my name when they passed me outside of class.

The school hired a permanent music teacher before the start of the third full week of school. I was relieved.

I found this in a filing cabinet in the classroom
and put it on the bulletin board. I had to add the
glasses, but otherwise it might as well be a
photo of me.

I knew I would miss getting to know the kids at the school, though I confess to still not knowing many of their names. I enjoyed not having to worry about where our van was parked each day, because the school worked out an agreement with a nearby grocery store so we could use their lot. And I certainly enjoyed the extra paycheck. It was an enormous help. I also enjoyed being much more of a part of the works of the school, being an insider, if only for a month.

However, the challenge of managing a classroom is one I did not miss -- not even a tiny bit --  from my first days as a high school teacher. Also, lesson planning is tough for me. It always was. That's one reason it was wise for me to hand off the job to someone with a direct calling and passion for the position.

Another reason has to do with my own calling. Holding a full-time job would certainly make working for Priority 1 more difficult. Perhaps not impossible, but certainly more complex. If God leads me to a full-time job (outside of Priority 1, that is) in the future, then so be it. But it simply was not right, not wise, for me to jump into this position at this time.

I learned a lot, and it was a wonderful experience. At the very least, I know the staff at the school much better than I ever would have otherwise, and many of the kids run over to me and give me a hug when they see me. I also earned enough to cover more than a month and a half of the girls' tuition.

We continue to watch for opportunities, for open doors. We prayed for God to provide when our bank account was running lean, and He did. To Him be the glory forever, and may we never forget that He is worth trusting.

Free Bread and a Wad of Cash

During the summer, traditionally, Wednesdays are "Manna Day." Manna of Life,

The Spring BIC team, donning their hairnets 

a ministry we partner with, does an outreach every Saturday: they make soup and sandwiches, gather juice and fruit, then visit three different sites to serve both day workers and people who are homeless. Since our summer teams aren't in the city on weekends, we do the same outreach ourselves on Wednesday mornings.

The route we take is the same each time: first a gas station at Westchester Square; then the Living Room, a homeless shelter in Hunts Point; then another gas station not far away down Bruckner Boulevard. We know what time we need to start making sandwiches in the morning, what time we have to leave, and what are the best times to get to each site. We've done this many times before. That's not to say that it's always the same, but we know basically what to expect.

Today was different.

We had the youth group from The Spring BIC in Chambersburg, PA. At the first

gas station I saw a man over at the corner of the building, slumped to the ground, unkempt and disheveled, drinking a can of beer, several bags next to him. He looked pretty obviously homeless, though you can't know that for sure unless you talk to him. I grabbed one of the guys from the team and went to ask the man if he would like a couple sandwiches, some juice, and a banana.

He cautiously accepted the food, and I asked him his name. Jimmy, he told me. As soon as I got near him I noticed the dog tags around his neck, and I mentioned them to him and thanked him for his service to our country. We talked for a little while, and we were able to give him a Bible and pray for him. I also told him that there are programs specifically for homeless veterans, but that he needed to take the initiative to seek them out; they won't know he's out here unless he tells them.

This was the first time I had met a homeless person at this gas station. Normally all we encounter is a group of day workers, men who wait around for someone to drive by and offer them work for the day. Sometimes there are fewer guys there, sometimes more. When we meet only a handful of them at a given site, we hope that they're gone because they found work.

I stepped away from Jimmy and walked over to where the rest of our group was. As I did, a couple of them were saying something to the driver of a white SUV that had pulled up right in front of us. They offered the man a banana -- the items we bring are for anyone who wants them -- and I heard him ask what we were doing. We told him, and he seemed impressed, saying he thought it was great that we were doing it. He said that he doesn't go to church as much as he should, but identified himself with a church not far from there. Then he grabbed something from inside his vehicle and handed it to me: a folded wad of cash more than an inch thick. He said he wanted to bless us because we were blessing other people. I thanked him earnestly and told him that the money would go right to this, to what we were doing here. He drove off, and I don't remember if we ever got his name.

He had handed us $346 in cash. I don't know what that money was or where it came from, but I know that it will be used to meet the needs of even more people now. I don’t know all what was in that man's heart, but I believe that the Holy Spirit had moved him to do what he did.

Later in the day, at the second gas station where we fed the day workers, a white delivery van pulled up to our group. He called through his window to some of the team members, who spoke to him and then waved to me to come over. Apparently the man had extra bread. He had an order of rolls canceled at the last minute, after he had already made them, so he was driving around to different restaurants and offering the bread. He saw us and offered two good-sized boxes if we wanted them. Since we were near the end of our time, I only took one box. 

Bread from heaven!

We were able to hand out the entire box to the day workers at that gas station, offering basically as much as they wanted. It was a big blessing to be able to offer those guys more, because often we run out of things at the last gas station. Today, we had more than enough.

I told The Spring's youth group that people back home must be praying for them. We've had people donate to us before, people who have seen us around the city and applauded what we were doing (though we know and always say that the glory should go to God), but never have we gotten two out-of-the-blue contributions like these. God is good.

I could talk about the power of prayer, about how God blesses us even when we don't deserve it, about how we simply need to walk in obedience and see where God takes us, about how He will provide in remarkable ways. Instead I will simply praise God from whom all blessings flow.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." -- James 1:17

"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." --Ephesians 3:20-1