Lessons Learned

One of the hardest lessons to learn as a child is obedience. That’s because we always have an opinion and more importantly, we always think our way is best! Between that and telling the truth I’m not sure which is hardest. I watch my granddaughters struggle with those things and I’m reminded of when I was navigating those very same things.  During my elementary school days, I recall a time when, much to my chagrin, I was determined to have my way. 

To the best of my recollection (I admit it’s a tad bit faulty these days), I was in the 3rd of 4th grade.  We had what they called “assembly" every Wednesday in elementary school.  I always enjoyed that.  It was a chance to (1) not be in the classroom but in the auditorium with all the other grade levels and (2) We would enjoy different programs and/or performances sometimes by the other grades or even sometimes special music. The only requirement was that we had to wear a white blouse and a navy blue skirt and red tie for the girls, and a white shirt, navy blue pants and red tie for the boys.  Anyone who didn’t come properly dressed for assembly day, could not participate. For this one particular assembly my teacher decided that our class would put on a play for assembly. I was so excited because although I didn’t like to read, I always enjoyed reading and acting out plays. Whenever we were reading out loud in the class, if we were reading a play, I would eagerly raise my hand to participate. Maybe it’s because reading a whole book seemed so tedious and so few books held my attention, but plays, to me, are like watching TV. The scene is set, the lines are usually short and that keeps me anticipating what will happen next. 

I was fortunate enough to be picked to participate in the play. I didn’t have a major part, but nevertheless, I had a few lines to say and I was excited to be given the opportunity. I was very diligent about practicing my lines and I was confident that I would be ready on performance day!!! I can’t remember the name of the play, but I remember it had to do with clocks. The scene I was in took place in the kitchen.  The teacher solicited the class for the different props that we would use in the kitchen scene. One prop I thought of was a wooden spoon and fork that I had seen in our kitchen drawer at home. They stood out because they had pretty porcelain handles. I told my teacher I would ask my mother if I could bring them on the day of the performance. I couldn’t wait to get home. I practically ran the three blocks home, bolted up the 4 flights of stairs and the first thing I did after inside was to check the kitchen drawer to see if the fork and spoon were still there - yes, they were.  As soon as my mother got home I bombarded her with my pleas to take the utensils to school for the play.  I almost broke down in tears when she told me I couldn’t take them. 

Despite my repeated pleas, she wouldn’t relent. I would have to let the teacher know that I couldn’t bring them. I sulked up until assembly day.  I’ll tell you, sometimes you just can’t take NO for an answer.  Right then and there, I started devising a plan to have it my way. Finally the morning of the assembly came and once my mother was safely out of the door to go to work, I put the fork and spoon in my book bag to take to school. I figured that I could use them, bring them back in the afternoon and put them back in the drawer before she got home from work. She wouldn’t even know they were missing. 

I guess you know by now, that it didn’t exactly work out like that. (In fact when you think about it, willful disobedience never does; there are always consequences to be paid). The class was all on stage, waiting for the curtain to open for our scene, and I proudly strutted over to the table where the props were, picked up the fork and spoon and I guess I didn’t secure them and they both slipped out of my hand and crashed on the floor. OH MY GOODNESS! The beautiful procelium handles shattered into what seemed like a million pieces. There was no possible way I could even think about fixing them. I instantly started crying hysterically. Meanwhile they had to delay the curtain opening because my teacher couldn’t get me to stop wailing.  I just knew that I was going to get the worst beating of my life. Not only did a break one of the few nice things my mother had, but worse than that, I was disobedient!!  There wasn’t even a lie I could tell to get me out of it. The teacher assured me that it would be alright and that she would write a note to my mother. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know MY mother and that a note from some “stranger” was not going to be enough to save me. I was crying so hard I could hardly deliver my lines when it was my turn.  

Surprisingly enough, I don’t remember whether I got a beating or not, but I tell you I was cured from disobeying for at least the next 5 years! Side note: remember, I was in elementary school, maybe 8 or 9 then and honestly, I don’t know any high schooler who is 100% obedient - oh the stories I could tell 🙂. There are some lessons that you have to learn over and over again. One thing for sure, I will never forget that feeling of dread. I even considered not going home; this was probably the first of many times I considered running away. Even now, after all these years, I still remember it like it was just yesterday.  Yes, it’s hard being obedient, but I’ve learned, both then and down through the years, that obedience can add years to your life!
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“Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this right. Honor your father and mother, which is the first commandment with a promise - so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” Ephesians 6:1-2”