I FORGIVE YOU MR. RICHMOND

When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher did some things that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. To save him embarrassment we’ll call him Mr. Richmond. He was a nice enough guy, and I liked him but, I didn’t really like his class. Mainly because he would randomly call on different students to read, and I was a terrible reader.

I could do better though if I had read it to myself first, so while someone else was reading a paragraph, I would read the next one to myself in case he called my name. As you can probably guess, I didn’t learn much in History or Reading that year.

Another reason I didn’t like his class was because of two particular incidents that happened in Reading class, and History class. In Reading, there was a story about a cat named Gato. That’s the Spanish word for CAT, if you didn’t already know. Well, when we started reading about Gato, Mr. Richmond pronounced his name wrong. He called him Gaytoe (Gay-toe). I was shy but I mustered up enough courage to tell him that the cat’s name was Gato. I knew because I had seen it on Public Television, either on Sesame Street or the Electric Company.

Well, he didn’t believe me. He said, “Well, we’ll call him Gaytoe.” I hated calling him that because I knew it was the wrong pronunciation, but when it was my turn to read, I reluctantly said, GayToe out of respect for my teacher.

Another time, we were reading a story about a native American named Sequoya in History class. Once again, I knew how to pronounce the name, and I told Mr. Richmond, but again, he didn’t believe me. He said, “Well, we’ll say Sa-Jaw-a.” Ugghhh!

I was taught to respect my elders, and people in authority, so I went along with him, and once again pronounced another name wrong in his class.

Sometime later, my grandmother bought me a brand new basketball. I don’t remember how much it cost, but I know she didn’t have much money, and that made it even more special to me. I loved it, and I was so proud of it.

Low and behold, the day came when I wanted to take my new ball to school and show it off to my friends. I wanted to write my name on it so nobody else at school could claim it, but we didn’t have magic markers at our house, so I wrote my initials on it with an ink pen. After bouncing it around at home for a while that afternoon, the ink started to wear off, even though I had made it pretty bold. I had another idea. I actually took a knife and carefully carved my initials into the ball, like carving them into a tree. The next morning, I headed to school to show off my new favorite toy to my friends.

Later that day, at break time, two older boys from a higher grade, took my ball away from me and wouldn’t let me have it back. They were bigger and taller than I was. I tried to get it away from them but they just ignored me and kept playing with it. I tried everything I could think of but there was nothing I could do to get it back. So, finally, I went inside and told my teacher, and he called them in. I told him I could prove the ball was mine by my initials carved into it. One of the boys said the ball belonged to the other guy, and the initials meant something else. Guess what? Mr. Richmond believed them, and once again, he didn’t believe me.

I was pretty mad at those two guys, but I was really, really angry with Mr. Richmond. I was angry with him for years. My school, at the time, only went to the eighth grade, so when we graduated and went on to high-school, we had to go to another school, in another town. I wasn’t seeing the teacher every day, so I didn’t think about it all that much anymore. I never forgot what had happened, but my anger toward him wasn’t as strong as it had once been. When I would see him in town I would say, “hi,” and keep walking. He never said much more than “hi” to me either. I don’t know if he even remembered me or not, but I sure remembered him.

Even after I became a Christian, those old memories were stirred up every time I would see him again. I wanted to go up to him and tell him he had made a mistake in giving my basketball to those two lying thieves. I wanted to go to him and say, “You owe me a new basketball.” I never did, though. No matter how much I wanted to, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I knew I needed to let it go. I knew Jesus said that if we don’t forgive people for wrongs they have done to us, then God won’t forgive us when we do wrong (Matthew 6:15).

My teacher was not the only one I needed to forgive. There were others I had been withholding forgiveness from. I knew I needed to forgive them, but I didn’t really think any of them deserved it. I guess I just wanted to hold on to my anger for a little while longer. Plus, I thought that by forgiving someone you were saying that what they did was okay. Some people teach that forgiving others means you have to repair the relationship and open yourself up to the possibility of being hurt again, but that’s not what the Bible says. I think this teaching is one of the reasons so many people today refuse to forgive.

Forgiveness is not really for the other person. We can actually forgive someone without them ever asking, or even knowing we have forgiven them. So often, some people are not even aware that they’ve hurt us at all. When we have something against someone, we’re the ones suffering. Most of the time, they’ve already moved on with their lives, and aren’t even thinking about us, or what they did. When we forgive, it frees us from bondage, and we can be forgiven by God for our sins.

The phrase “Forgive and Forget” sounds good, but the Bible doesn’t actually say that. When we truly forgive we may still remember what happened, but we no longer hold it against that person or bring it up to them again. When I really understood forgiveness, I was able to truly forgive all those who had hurt me, including those boys, and Mr. Richmond. What a wonderful feeling it is to be free from that burden. I probably won’t ever forget what happened, but I know Mr. Richmond did the right thing. He had two witnesses against one, and I probably would have done just what he did if I had been in his shoes. So, Mr. Richmond, I forgive you.

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FORGIVE YOURSELF

About a year ago, I posted a story about learning to forgive. It was called “I Forgive You, Mr. Richmond.” I’ll put a link to it at the end of this post. Many people misunderstand forgiveness, and what it really involves, and I was no different. I had to truly understand forgiveness before I could give it.

We know we must forgive others for God to forgive us, but sometimes it’s not that easy. What’s even harder, is forgiving yourself. We know ourselves better than any other person on earth knows us. We know all our thoughts and all our secrets. We know what kind of person we really are under all the smiles, and masks we sometimes wear.

When we do something that hurts others, or God, we’re ashamed, because we know we shouldn’t have done such a thing, but we also know that sometimes, deep down inside, we really wanted to do it. Whether it’s something mean we said to someone, or something God says to do, or don’t do, and we disobeyed. It might be anger we’re holding on to because we don’t want to forgive just yet. Sometimes we hold on to that anger like a child with a favorite toy, or like it’s a vital piece of merchandise or our most prized possession we can’t bear to part with.

It’s even worse when we’re angry, or disappointed with ourselves. When we become the focus of our own anger we are in a bad place indeed. If we could only see through our anger and shame, we would realize that we are only hurting ourselves more by holding on to those things. In Mark chapter eleven, Jesus had this to say.

Mark 11: 25-26

25 And when you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

26 But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.

Jesus said forgive if you have anything against anyone. That would include yourself. We are God’s children just like anyone else, and we should try and see ourselves through his eyes. We know he wants us to forgive his children for wrongs they have done to us, and we ask them to forgive us for things we have done to them. We need to forgive ourselves as well when we’ve done things that we shouldn’t have. It’s important to do so in order to clear our minds and start fresh, with a clean conscience.

We may know ourselves better than any other person on earth knows us, but God knows us even better than we know ourselves. We often forget that. If he can forgive us, surely we can find it in our hearts to forgive ourselves.

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For more about forgiveness, read “I Forgive You Mr. Richmond.”

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TO ALL THE DOGS I'VE LOVED BEFORE

I remember a song I heard in the early Eighties called “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before.” It was written by Hal David and Albert Hammond. It has been recorded by several artists and bands, in several different languages, but the one I remember the most is the version by Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson, from 1984. I have always loved parodies of songs and I’ve written several over the years, so when I was thinking about a name for this story about dogs I’ve loved and lost, the title “To All the Dogs I’ve Loved Before.” just jumped out at me.

I remember having several different pets, other than dogs, that I truly loved. Most of them loved to receive affection but were not that great at returning it. There’s no animal that I know of that returns affection quite like a dog. Their love seems to be unconditional.

The first dog I remember having as a friend was named Clete. I wrote about him a while back in the post titled “Our Best Friend.” I’ll put a link at the end of this post in case you missed it. Check it out to see the strange way he got his name. I don’t have a clue what breed he was, but he was a brown and white mid-sized dog. He was with us for several years before he died. He was family, and it broke our hearts when he left us.

Then, there was Bonnie. She was a mutt. Her mother was a small black Chihuahua named Pretty, but Bonnie was much bigger than her mother. She was very smart, too, but something was wrong with her. She had a litter of puppies, but they all died within a few days after birth. The same thing happened to her next litter, with one exception. As puppy after puppy died, one little black and white male kept growing. When all the others were gone, he was still going strong. I named him Sparky. He was a miracle and I loved him. I was so happy he didn’t die, but that happiness was cut short. Early one morning when I went to see him, I found that he had died during the night. I was so heartbroken.

My aunt, who was my dad’s sister, had given Bonnie to my parents, and they had let me have her. I was told my aunt wanted her back. By this time she had given birth to another litter of puppies. They all died except two. Those two had made it several months and were still going strong. I named my favorite one Dee Cee from the name of a pair of jeans I had at the time. My grandmother said I could only keep one dog so I gave Bonnie back to my aunt and later, I gave the other dog to a distant uncle. When I would come home from school DeeCee would always run out to meet me and jump up into my arms. We played together all the time. Once again, I had allowed myself to love an animal, setting myself up for another heartbreak, which did eventually come.

One day we came home and my best friend wasn’t there to meet me. I searched the neighborhood and looked everywhere for him, but hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks, and I finally realized he was gone for good. I never saw him again.

I had other dogs over the years, but I wouldn’t let myself get too attached to them, so when something happened to them, I wouldn’t be hurt so bad. Several years ago I wrote a short story called “Billy And His Strange Pet.” It was an allegory or parable about my experience with losing pets that I loved. I’ll put a link at the end of this post in case you missed that one.

I grew up and had children of my own, but I still would not allow myself to get attached to animals. Several years ago, God revealed some things to me about myself, and he began to soften my calloused heart. That healing started with a true understanding of forgiveness and continued on to include an appreciation for life, love, and family.

We need to appreciate the time we have with those we love, and when they’re no longer with us, we will have the memories of the love we shared together, whether that love is shared with humans or animals. It has been said many times that love is a universal language. The Bible says God is Love (1 John 4:8, 16) and love covers all sins (Proverbs 10:12), so everything we do should be done with love (1 Corinthians 16:14). Give love, and cherish the love you receive. In the end, it will make a world of difference, to you and everyone in your life.

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RELATED POSTS BELOW ---

Our Best Friend
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2017/05/our-best-friend.html

Billy And His Strange Pet 
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2015/07/billy-and-his-strange-pet.html

I Forgive You, Mr. Richmond
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2015/08/i-forgive-you-mr-richmond.html

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THE BASKETBALL CONNECTION

When I was in school, I loved basketball. My grandmother bought me a brand new ball to practice with at home. That’s the one I took to school and two older boys took from me and wouldn’t give it back. I’ll place a link at the end of this post so you can read that story if you haven’t already.*

I got another ball later and discovered that I was probably better off without one. We lived directly behind one of the neighborhood stores. The owner’s son was one of my friends. Sometimes he would get off the bus at the store and stay until it closed. Many times he would come and stay at my house until just before his dad locked up. One of those times, as he was leaving, he threw a rock in my direction. We had been playing with the basketball and I was about to take it into the house with me. As he threw another rock, I ran to where it was headed and let it bounce off the ball. He threw a few more and I intercepted each of them with the ball.

Then it happened. I missed, but the rock didn’t. It didn’t hit the basketball, it hit me; Right in the midsection. I dropped the ball and hobbled into the house crying so hard I could barely see. I crawled onto my grandmother’s bed and curled up in agony. I was in a lot of pain. I lay there for what seemed like forever, then I guess I finally went to sleep. When I woke up, I was better, but for a long time, I would have sporadic pains that would remind me of that day.

I believe that was the same basketball that I later used to damage myself again. I was squatted down, using a hammer for something and the basketball was nearby. For some dumb reason, I decided to hit the basketball with the hammer. When I did it bounced off the ball and the claws hit me right in the forehead. It was quick, and it was hard, and it really hurt. I still feel stupid for doing that even as I write this. Sometimes I can’t believe all the dumb stuff I did when I was young. As I look at some of the crazy things young people do today, I try to remember how dumb I was, before I condemn them.

That story reminds me of another incident that happened with one of my sisters when we were younger. It doesn’t involve a basketball, but it does have a hammer. The house we were living in belonged to my late great-uncle. It was old and drafty. At some point in the past, someone had put plastic over the windows on the outside and used roofing tacks with cardboard as washers to keep them from pulling through the plastic. The plastic was gone so I was using a claw hammer to pull the tacks out. I had to use some force, so I was swinging the hammer a bit and I wasn’t able to get the claws under the head of each nail the first time, every time.

My sister came out on the porch to brush her teeth. She bent over to spit just as I swung the hammer. It missed the tack head and hit her head. The claws made two deep holes in her skull. Here’s the funny part. She looked at me and said, “Did you hit me?” Believe it or not, we have had several laughs about it over the years.

Several years earlier, I had damaged my own head in the gym at school. The girls’ basketball team was practicing at one end of the court. Most of them were in a single line, and they were running some drills. The other end of the court was filled with kids playing whatever they wanted. The gym was full and I was being chased by a couple of girls. I ducked and dodged several people before running through the line of practicing girls. Just as I passed through the line I saw the wall, but not soon enough. I smashed into the corrugated tin which wasn’t all that solid. It was a just little too springy. I bounced off the wall quick and hard. I ended up on my back on the concrete floor. My head hit the floor so hard that it knocked me out for a few minutes. When I regained consciousness, my teacher was standing over me, calling my name and asking, “Are you alright?”

No, I wasn’t alright. There was a huge, hard knot on the back of my head and I was in a lot of pain. I remember sitting in the office as the teachers and the Principle discussed whether or not to send me home. They finally decided to contact my family and they came and took me to the doctor. They checked me out, and took some X-rays, then informed us that I had a concussion and a fractured skull. Thankfully, that’s the closest I have ever come to having a broken bone in my entire life. I went home and recovered in a few days, and soon I was back to my old self, and back in school.

I did learn some lessons from these experiences and I have applied them to my everyday life over the years. That has helped me to become more safety-minded and I’ve avoided many other accidents that could have possibly been fatal.

God wants us to apply the lessons we learn in our everyday lives to our spiritual life. Too often, we make quick decisions, without thinking like I did in these situations. Sometimes we have to make quick decisions, but usually, we have at least a few moments to think before we leap. That’s what God wants us to do. Many of my accidents could have been prevented if I had only thought about the variables. I’ve been accused of being pessimistic because I now think about what could go wrong before attempting certain new things. I don’t see it that way. I’m not expecting only bad outcomes, I’m just weighing the situation. I think it’s irresponsible to jump into anything without first thinking about it for at least a few minutes. That’s just common sense. The Bible has plenty to say about thinking before we speak, and there are many stories where people got into trouble by doing things without thinking first.

Most people would agree that we need to take time to consider our options before we make big decisions, but we need to do the same thing with everything we do. We need to stay in constant contact with God through prayer. We need a close personal relationship with Jesus, and when we have a decision to make, even a quick one, he will guide us through the Holy Spirit who lives in our minds. Life would be so much better, for all of us, if we were so close to God that we could hear him every time he tries to speak to us. That’s what I want. How about you?

*I Forgive You Mr. Richmond (Basketball Story)

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© 2017 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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