Archives For mom

The Typewriter

samuel kee —  August 16, 2011 — 2 Comments

Don’t be afraid to ask someone to type up your stories.

One of my favorite things to do as a young boy was sit next to my mom by the typewriter and watch her type my stories.  I would hand write all kinds of stories and poems when I was young; in fact, I can still remember the very first poem I ever wrote.  When I was in the first grade, my best friend moved away and I wrote this poem for him:

You’re going away, 
I wish you could stay;
I will miss you,
In every way.
 

My mom typed it up the night before I gave it to him.

We spent so much time by the typewriter; I can still hear her coaching me on my sentences.  “‘Once there was an ostrich named Oscar.’  Stop, put a Period there, Sammy.”  She would go on, “He was a very fast bird, Comma, able to beat all of the other animals, Period.”  She would make my passive sentences active and help me to describe my nouns with simple and clear adjectives.

When she wasn’t coaching my writing, she would read Robert Frost to me:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

I remember hearing The Road Not Taken for the first time and the anxiety I felt for the poet’s decision as he stood before the two roads; yet I also felt his triumph as Frost concluded his poem:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Eventually, I learned how to type for myself.  And for the most part, I know how to use commas and periods.  But the thought that I can’t help but linger on is this: whose dreams are you typing down on paper?  In a very real sense, my mom gave substance to my thoughts.  She transferred the elementary scribbling of a boy onto paper, bringing his dreams into reality.

Are you doing that for anyone?  Is anyone doing that for you?  It’s not just about stories and typewriters, of course, but about birthing the dreams of another.  The surest way to frustrate your dreams is to isolate yourself from people who can take you places.  The surest way to quench the life of another is to neglect to fan his or her dreams to life.

Don’t be afraid to ask someone to type up your stories; and don’t be too busy to do the same for another.

© Samuel Kee, 2011

Humiliation

samuel kee —  April 14, 2011 — Leave a comment

There’s someone else in her life that’s more important.

Imagine a mom who has to take care of her small children while her husband is away on a business trip.  As any mom knows, this is no small feat.  The children wake up, way too early, and the race begins.  The kids have to be changed, fed, dressed, and bathed, depending on how badly they needed changed.  The kids don’t want to eat, they want to watch TV.  One makes a mess of breakfast, and while mom is cleaning that up, the other kid makes another mess.  And while she is cleaning up the second mess, a third mess is made…Kids are fighting, things are breaking, it’s a wrestling match to get them changed, teeth brushed, hair combed…And before the mom knows it, it’s 11 o’clock and there’s a knock at the door.  Without thinking, she answers the door, only to greet the person with her bad breath and bed-head.  Mom hasn’t had time to brush her teeth, change out of her pajamas, comb her hair, take a shower, put on make up, and make herself presentable.  All because she was taking care of others.  She is completely embarrassed.  You might say, in this instance, she is humiliated.  And what does the person at the door think, “There’s someone else in her life that’s more important!” 

That’s what the humiliation of Jesus is all about.  In Mark 14-15, Jesus is completely humiliated.  This is especially true given the contrast with the rest of Mark’s book.  Before the scenes in 14-15, Jesus is magnified.  Right from the beginning, we’re told that Jesus is God’s Son.  Mark goes on to describe Jesus’ incredible power and authority.  Jesus has authority over every disease, as he heals the blind and deaf and makes the lame to walk.  Jesus has authority over Satan and demons, as he casts out demons from severely oppressed people.  Jesus even has all authority over nature, as he calms storms.  Jesus even has the power to walk on water.  He has complete authority and every right, as the Son of God.

So when the reader gets to 14-15, it’s a complete shock.  In these chapters, we see Jesus humiliated by Judas, by the high priest, by his best friend Peter, by Pilate, by a crowd of people, by soldiers, and by criminals on the cross.  Jesus doesn’t defend himself.  He doesn’t exert his own rights.  He is mocked, spit upon, falsely accused, beaten, maligned, and ultimately nailed to a cross.

In just one short day, his entire ministry comes crashing down.  All the glory and hype come to a screeching halt.  And the reader must wonder at such humiliation.  As the Jesus of Mark 14-15 greet the reader, we must think to ourselves, “There must be someone else in his life that’s more important!”

Unknowingly getting it right, the chief priests who put him on the cross mocked him by saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself” (15:32).  That’s exactly the point.  He cared for others, just like the mom, so he could not care for himself.

In this sense, humiliation is caring for others at the expense of yourself, in order to put them ahead.  You limit yourself.  You don’t lay hold of your own rights in order to help others succeed.  You become powerless that others might become powerful.

Maybe you need to hear that right now; maybe you’re not feeling too important.  You wish that someone cared for you.  You wish that someone might say, “He’s a very important person in my life” or “She is very important to me, so precious that I’ll sacrifice other things for her.”

“There’s someone else in Jesus’ life that’s more important than himself.”  It’s you.

If you doubt God’s love for you, consider the humiliation of his Son.

© Samuel Kee, 2011