Remembering Mrs. Schmuck

It was the fall semester of 2011. As I completed my Secondary English Education Internship at Pensacola Christian Academy, I heard the news: Mrs. Sandy Schmuck had died.

Mrs. Schmuck had always been a hero in my heart—the epitome of a Christian English teacher. Her love for people, for English, and for the Lord condensed into the beautiful person that she was. As an intern under Mrs. Baker, who had been an intern to Mrs. Schmuck herself, I felt the loss very directly. I taught 11^th grade English, Mrs. Schmuck’s “baby.” The notes that I taught from, the box I used to carry papers, and the visuals I used were all inherited from her. I cried hard upon the final realization that she would never come back to teach again.

My heart weighed heavy throughout my internship. Every time I sat down to copy notes from Mrs. Schmuck's literature books, sorrow welled in me.

On the last week of my internship, I reached the last page of the literature book. The last poem--"How Did You Die?" by Edmund Cooke--read in simple but profound lines:

Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight--and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic would call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

At the very end, Mrs. Schmuck had scribbled while still in good health: “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the course!”

Feelings welled within me once more. But this time, a sense of closure and pride replaced the usual sorrow. It's not the fact that she's dead that counts, but the grace with which she had died. She had fought her fight and won her race.

I rejoice in her crown of glory.

Unqualified

I had no qualifications....but one.

The high ceiling towered over me as I walked into the grand auditorium. Four to five hundred faces turned to look at our mission team. I sported a smile as I glanced down at the program sheet in my subtly shaking hand. My lecture was first. After the vice-president of Tarlac Christian College ended her session next hour, my turn would be up.

I forced myself down the aisle, constantly nudging myself inside. As my teammates settled down on the front row, I clutched at the back of a chair as I felt my feet give way under my khaki skirt. I looked at the crowd again. No way, no way...there was absolutely no way I could do this. I had been sure before we left the States that I was ready for this lecture. I had my PowerPoint presentation, my outline, and my confidence. I was the graduating English education major from Asia. I had this under control...or so I thought.

There was no way I could do this. This was a teacher's conference in a prestigious college. These teachers, experienced teachers, each with his own classroom....why should they be listening to an inexperienced college senior from their own country? Whether by degree, experience, or age, I disqualified as a speaker.

I started to frantically mumble to all the teammates around me, "I'm scared. I'm scared. I can't do this." One by one, they prayed with me and for me. Reassuring hugs and touches kept me standing. But I was still scared.

I had only one qualification: God had asked me to do this. God has put me on this mission team to give this lecture on teaching English as a second language. That was the only qualification I had.

But as my teammate Jeremy told me later on, that was the only one I needed.

I don't know how that lecture went. I just know I spoke whatever God put in my heart to speak. I prayed for grace, and He gave plenty. All those hugs, knuckle-punches, and congratulations were extra tokens of His grace. The strength to do His will was enough of a reward.

For whatever task God gives to His servants...He qualifies them. His love overwhelms me. His grace still amazes me.

"Princess Wenslyn"--Part III

I usually hate sequels. Whether movies, books, or television shows...sequels disappoint more often than they entertain. Sequels try to forcefully continue a story that had already ended. Sequels are unoriginal and uncreative. I've collected many quotes that mock sequels. I hate sequels...

So why am I writing a sequel blog post...again? Because I realize that the story hasn't ended yet.

I've always dreamed of being a princess, and too often, I think of myself as a princess too. I thought that at some point in life, I would outgrow those fantasies. But even though the the puffy gowns, pumpkin carriages, and poisoned apples might disappear from my fancies...the main dream still lives in me.

I want to be a princess.

In my first princess post, I described how the title "Princess Wenslyn" took upon different meanings for me at different points in my life. Sometimes, I adored it and sometimes I detested it. Yet just like author Leslie Ludy said in her book Authentic Beauty, almost every single girl has always wanted to be a princess...and I am one of them. Whether or not my lips admitted the desire didn't matter...in my heart of hearts, I've still always wanted to be a princess. It's just that sometimes...I couldn't decide what being a princess really meant.

A fairytale princess has class, style, and poise. A princess has incomparable charm and beauty. A princess captures the heart of every man who meets her as she dances oh-so-gracefully. A princess is more precious than other girls. A princess is popular, kind, and sweet. A princess just sleeps and waits for the perfect prince to come wake her with a kiss.

Princess, princess, princess...fantasies tell me I should act according to these descriptions to be a princess. But experience tells me to my face that IT DOESN'T WORK.

I obviously do not have the class, style, and poise of a fairy-tale princess. I can never be the prettiest girl in a class, not to mention the world. I can never capture the heart of every man I meet. I am definitely not worth more than any other girl. I dance like a wooden puppet. I would never grow as a person if I sleep as much as sleeping beauty did, and a perfect prince doesn't just show up at one's door...because he doesn't exist.

So then...how do I become a princess? What exactly IS a princess?

It's all so confusing...until I heard someone call me in a way I haven't been called before. This time, the words I heard were not "Princess Wenslyn"....they were "my princess."

It was then that I realized...the definition of a princess is not found in the word "princess" itself...it's found in the person who has the princess. It's the "my" that defines the princess. I might not have the poise, charm, or skills of a fairty-tale princess...but that's because those princesses are defined by "fairytale." I am to be defined by my prince.

Quoting Leslie Ludy again...every girl only needs one Prince. And my Prince is Jesus Christ. When my heart follows the standards of my Prince and learns to be "His" princess...I can become a princess. And Lord willing, there will be the day when my Heavenly Prince puts my hand in the hands of an earthly prince who loves me because I am the right kind of princess. My prince will not want me because I'm a fairtytale princess...I will be his princess because I have learned to be His princess.

So the story continues...for I still want to be a princess. Not "Princess Wenslyn." No, I don't want that. I want to be a princess....His princess and his princess.

One to a Thousand

"With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day," states 2 Peter 3:8. Looking back, I understand that just like Narnian time is different from the time of this world, life does not progress at a uniform rate.

Some chapters of my life lasted for several years. I would study the same way, live the same way, dress the same way, and grow in the same direction for quite some time before changes crept in. This past year, however, has been the exact opposite. I feel that I have lived one lifetime within a year.

It is now past the middle of July...more than a year since I left the Philippines for North America, to visit some relatives and eventually enter college. I had thought that the whole plan was simple. I go, I study, I come back, I go again, I study again, I graduate, I come back. But God had so much more in store.

This past year has affected me mentally. I have learned to discipline my mind to juggle many subjects and keep at pace with classmates. I have learned to write papers instead of stories, to take do projects instead of give an oral report to mom.

This year has altered me socially and emotionally. I've had to live in a dorm with hundreds of girls who are not family, around people who could hate you and be both up front or behind your back about it. I have also met people who have changed my life forever. I have encountered friendship and love beyond anything I used to hear or say or feel...from individuals I formerly never even knew existed.

This year has impacted me spiritually. When left alone in a foreign country, almost completely free from the enormous accountability I've had as a pastor's daughter...I had to learn to follow God on my own. I had to follow God whether people saw me doing it or not; I had to learn to form my own convictions about my Christian walk.

One year. One lifetime. If I did not have God, I would not have survived. I thought I knew what to expect...but God has so, so, so much more in store.

God's is beyond all time zones, all space...beyond all limitations. He could work miracles in my life within one year, and He could do that again and again. May I never try to limit God in my mind. There will be times when a thousand years feel as slow as a day, there will be times when a day feels as life-changing as a thousand years. Either way, God's in control. His ways are higher than mine.

"Collect, Collect, Then Select"

Those are the four words that almost spelled my emotional doom since I first heard them several years ago. Collect, collect, then select..."admirers are for collecting and bragging about, guys (or girls) exist for your ego and comfort"...that is the real message behind this common quote. The idea appeals to the human heart easily, but it does nothing good in the long run.

For almost half of my life, I used to find pride in how guys would notice me and how even parents and grandparents would urge their family members to go after me. I liked the attention. In my highly social culture, I could feel the vanity factor. I enjoyed being desired and sought; I found value in the idea of being a prize to the guys, even if I never planned to give away that prize anytime soon. The more admirers, the more worth...that's what I believed.

So God started showing me things. The first guy I entertained extensively chose to be with someone else. When I thought others were being serious while I was flirting, I was informed that the other parties were merely just putting me down on the list of girls they've flirted. Someone the whole church encouraged to go after me would refuse to make a move for several years, but fell in love and became engaged within months of meeting the love of his life.

Some of these incidents hurt crazily. Some of them did not hurt at all. And yet...they all showed me one common thing.

What did I gain at all from having multiple guys seeking my attention or hand? Nothing. What purpose was there in knowing how to make a guy like me? Nothing, nothing at all.

I could groom and train myself to attract countless young men if I want to. I know what type of guy needs humor, what kind needs respect, what kind needs gentleness, and what kind needs just time. Sure, I could collect and collect and collect...but is there a point to it?

Instead of getting happiness and confidence...I got consequences.

Yes, I got to make the suitor-rejection speeches and letters that I had always rehearsed as a young girl. But they only brought me broken friendships. Yes, I got to receive gifts and attention and praises. But if even the friendships were lost, the memories were painful anyway.

Yes, I could collect the affections of multiple young men...but I could marry only one person at the end of the day. The ability to attract is not exactly a life-partner quality. When there are guys surrounding me, I might become a good prize, but I might not necessarily make a good wife. Having a range of admirers is not any kind of asset in my potential as a spouse. In fact, if the situations are handled poorly, such a background would actually make me a worse wife, a wife that is proud and attention-seeking.

I do understand that a person with many admirers (whether as a guy or a girl) probably has some reason to cause that situation. Appearances, skills, character, personality, or whatever...there must be something to attract people, and that something is the person's real asset. Assets do cause attraction...but attraction itself is not an asset.

So when I learn how to please the opposite gender, I should learn to serve my family and my future husband, not to attract potential admirers. When I work to improve myself, I should not focus on becoming the ultimate "admiree," but on becoming a godly wife, mother, teacher, or whatever God plans for me to be.

Collect, collect...collecting takes alot of time and effort. Why collect what I would never select? And if God is the One selecting for me, then it would be outright stupid of me to try to collect. My security lies with the Lover of My Soul, not with attention from the opposite gender. May my assets lie with Him and Him alone.