As I read the story of high school teacher, Martha Cothren, I kept thinking …
‘I’m gonna ‘snopes’ this, because it’s too good to be true’
So, when I finished, I did snopes it, and I truthorfiction’ed it and, guess what? It is REAL!
Although some accounts get the details not quite right (that is what happens when real stories are told, over and over), the core of the story is solid, true and such a great illustrative lesson. Rather than copy and paste the stories told by others, I’ll just give you my re-telling of the various accounts that I have read.
Martha Cothren is the daughter of a man who was a WW2 prisoner of war.
She taught high school History, in Little Rock, Arkansas at Robinson High School (she still teaches History there, according to the school website). On the first day of school, he students arrived to a classroom empty of desks.
As someone who works in a school, that could be a first day of school nightmare!
Ah, but Ms. Cothren had a lesson plan in mind … one that, I bet, that her students will not forget.
According to legend, Ms. Cothren told her students that they would need to guess what they could do to earn their desks.
The students offered responses such as:
– good grades
– good behavior
They did not find the answer to unlocking the key to earning their desks.
At some point, later in the day, presumably as the students were doing their school work on the floor of the classroom, their classroom door opened.
In came their desks, each carried by a veteran.
Then, with a classroom full of desks, high school students and veterans, Ms. Cothren told her class that they did not have to earn their desks, but that they were earned for them, by men and women such as those who carried them into their classroom.
Though this is not a Canadian story, it’s truth is as applicable here as the country from which it came.
What a great lesson! What a thoughtful teacher to make the sacrifice of others real for those who benefit from that sacrifice.
It is the story of John 15:13 :
It’s the story of true sacrifice, of true bravery, of true love. Giving so that others might have what you, yourself might not ever benefit from. It is what Christ did for all, and our acceptance of the sacrifice is not necessary for us to receive the benefits earned for us.
We cannot earn what we have, it has been bought with a greater price than anything we could ever do in this life.
Martha, as you read this today, on my Remembrance Day, and your Veterans Day, please know how very thankful I was to receive your email response. We will not forget!
that what they see and hear is actually attainable reality … it is not.
There is a sense of longing that comes as I realize that I am no longer a mom to ‘babies’ or even ‘children’. Oh, I am still a mom to minors, but my minors have all reached the edge of the abyss known as adolescence. And this edge is where I say farewell to a part of my life, that has been all-consumingly present for over eighteen years. My adolescent kids have all reached the stage of not needing me.
Our youngest is almost twelve, and, although in private he will still hug me, and give and receive ‘I love you’s’, he is ‘moving on’ through the doorway to his teens, to be followed by adulthood. And, I have to say, it makes me feel a little sad, a little lonely, a lot … unneeded (and I need to feel needed).
I am getting old. I know this because when I look at magazine cover, I see youthful actresses in movies, I see lovely ladies advertise (usually their online ‘chat’ business) on television, and I turn away. And I turn away because I am past the ability to look as they do (and I do not have access to the air brushing that they do). I have come to the conclusion that even if I lost fifty (or eighty) pounds, even if my body was worked into a state of rock hard, even if I did everything possible (short of plastic surgery) I am beyond the ability to be the definition of what the world says is beautiful. Because I do not have the most important defining feature of beauty … youth.
As I am starting to get cozy with being in my forties, I am starting to see 
the world so differently. I am starting to see, and expand the definition of beauty differently.
does not walk confidently, shoulders back with her head high. There has to be something in that woman that says, ‘I am approachable’. There has to be something 
in her appearance that communicates to all around, that she is comfortable in her own skin, for those around to look at her and say, ‘she is beautiful’.
confident head held high, that she is approachable, and that she is 
comfortable in her skin and something within us says ‘she is a beauty?’
beholder, and what the discriminating beholder sees most clearly is not the passing glance beauty, but the inner qualities of grace and confidence and openness.
When one is convicted by God, it is clear … unless you feel really uncomfortable with the lesson God has for you, then the instinct to flee and forget is greatest.
Sometimes what I write is because I so desire to share what I am learning. Sometimes what I write is my attempt to put a positive spin on something that is negative, or to speak of joy in the mourning, in the pain, in the bad news or the discouraging. Much of the time what I write is because I know that if I have heard, seen, felt or experienced something, others have too.
I grew up on the east coast of Canada, with rolling hills, spectacularly colourful autumn foliage and green, lush valleys.
