Helen Majorie Dowd shared this note. I pray it brightens your Saturday.
Psalm 32:8 “I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.”
When I started school, I did not know what was expected of me, so I would sit at my desk and cry, or chew on a pencil, an eraser, a ruler, or a crayon. I was what someone once called a "crayon eater." In other words, I began school not "understanding the rules."
But whose rules? Do you need rules to become an artist, a musician, a writer?
On my first day of school, not understanding what the teacher expected of me, I just cried, and ate the chalk. Then, as I proceeded to the higher grades, I still did not understand what it was that my "betters" required of me... In the second grade the teacher shook me because I didn't understand how to add. Well, let me tell you, Mrs. White, since becoming an adult, I have worked as a bookkeeper; and even now, as a senior, I do people's income tax.... In the fourth grade I was told I read too slowly. Too slowly for what? Did it matter Mrs. Robinson? I still can tell you exactly what grade I was in, and where I was sitting in class, when a certain piece of knowledge entered my brain. Slow to get there? Perhaps, but the knowledge was permanent.
It was in the seventh grade that the teacher told me I gave up too easily, and would never amount to anything. Thanks Mr. McKenzie! But because of a supportive husband, who will never let me give up, I have been able to prove you wrong... My grade eight teacher flung my book across the floor, after reading one of my GOOD stories, telling me that I must have cheated. That couldn't have been MY story. I wasn't bright enough to compose anything that intelligent. Well, Mrs. Jordan. If you were living, and I could find you, I would tell you that you were wrong. I have not only composed many stories, but I have written a book, and I write poetry on a regular basis.
In the tenth grade my typing teacher told me I would never make a typist. Wrong again. Not only have I worked as a secretary, I am typing now. Where are you, Mrs.Yand? In heaven, I hope.
I could go on, but the point of this essay is not to tell the world about my accomplishments: they are few. It is to encourage anyone reading this that YOU CAN DO IT. Don't let anyone discourage you from fulfilling your dreams.
When I started school, I did not know what was expected of me, so I would sit at my desk and cry, or chew on a pencil, an eraser, a ruler, or a crayon. I was what someone once called a "crayon eater." In other words, I began school not "understanding the rules."
But whose rules? Do you need rules to become an artist, a musician, a writer?
On my first day of school, not understanding what the teacher expected of me, I just cried, and ate the chalk. Then, as I proceeded to the higher grades, I still did not understand what it was that my "betters" required of me... In the second grade the teacher shook me because I didn't understand how to add. Well, let me tell you, Mrs. White, since becoming an adult, I have worked as a bookkeeper; and even now, as a senior, I do people's income tax.... In the fourth grade I was told I read too slowly. Too slowly for what? Did it matter Mrs. Robinson? I still can tell you exactly what grade I was in, and where I was sitting in class, when a certain piece of knowledge entered my brain. Slow to get there? Perhaps, but the knowledge was permanent.
It was in the seventh grade that the teacher told me I gave up too easily, and would never amount to anything. Thanks Mr. McKenzie! But because of a supportive husband, who will never let me give up, I have been able to prove you wrong... My grade eight teacher flung my book across the floor, after reading one of my GOOD stories, telling me that I must have cheated. That couldn't have been MY story. I wasn't bright enough to compose anything that intelligent. Well, Mrs. Jordan. If you were living, and I could find you, I would tell you that you were wrong. I have not only composed many stories, but I have written a book, and I write poetry on a regular basis.
In the tenth grade my typing teacher told me I would never make a typist. Wrong again. Not only have I worked as a secretary, I am typing now. Where are you, Mrs.Yand? In heaven, I hope.
I could go on, but the point of this essay is not to tell the world about my accomplishments: they are few. It is to encourage anyone reading this that YOU CAN DO IT. Don't let anyone discourage you from fulfilling your dreams.
If I CAN DO IT, So Can You!
When life throws its daggers and arrows your way,
Never stagger, nor falter, nor weakness display.
Stand up to your foe. Look him straight in the face.
Don’t let problems beat you, nor cause you disgrace.
It’s YOUR life to rule, so YOU take control.
Keep your eyes straight ahead. Don’t lose sight of your goal.
“Unto thee lift I up mine eyes. O thou that dwellest in the heavens.”
Psalm 123:1
~ Helen Marjorie Dowd ~
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