Charles Chandler--Parachute Maker

November 3rd in Richmond, Virginia there was a special occasion when Charles Chandler, Founder  and Leader of an organization that has helped a multitude of ministers is retiring. Ministry to Ministers is over 22 years old. Charles went through a painful church experience at age 58 and was without work. He had been successful all of his ministry. Written books, served as a Denominational leader, an author of a multitude of articles. But this organization he founded 22 years ago has helped many, many ministers going through a vocational crisis. He has helped save countless lives.

His organization would bring not more than 12 people in for a five-day retreat. All of these had suffered pain in churches. Some had been dismissed. Many had no job. The pain that them and their families endured was most difficult. In a retreat setting of five days counselors, vocational consultants, sometimes a psychiatrist helped there that come find hope and help for their difficult situations.

There was no charge for those retreats. Most had little money or resources to draw on. Some could not even afford transportation and this would be provided. Living on a shoestring--this splendid organization have sponsored over 132 Wellness Retreats. Over 1200 men and women have participated in these retreats. This does not count the phone calls, referrals and personal conferences that have reached out to help many ministers in need.

Charles Chandler was honored Thursday night for his great work to help so many.

I could not be there for the meeting--but this is the letter that I sent to be read that evening. Those of us who have known and worked with Charles Chandler have received many blessings because of his friendship and work. 

Dear Charles—

I am sorry that I cannot be with you and the group tonight for your well-deserved—er, what shall we call it: roasting, kicking you out, putting you out to pasture, surely not your funeral. All kidding aside—tonight’s tribute is the least we could do for one who has given and given to the hurting and those in need.

I remember back to 1993 or 1994 when you know knocked on my study door in Birmingham and said, “I want to talk to you.” He knew I had been through a difficult church experience just two years before. 55 years old and no church and wondering what I would do for the rest of my ministerial life. And in my office sat Charles a friend whose ties went all the way back to Birmingham and college days. He was 58 years old and had also been through a difficult church experience in Virginia. 

Anybody that knows Charles knows that when he says: “I want to talk” he means it. And so he told me about his dream of maybe beginning some kind of ministry to ministers who, like me and like himself had faced a difficult time in ministry. And so that afternoon he began to share with me his dreams about MTM. He had no idea what the future of this dream would take but he was willing to try.

And try he did. Now, looking back over 1,287 women and men in the ministry had found help and hope in these 22 years. This does not include the countless phone calls and personal conferences he had with so many. Once a woman went to talk to the great preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick. As she left she told his Secretary, “He helped put the stars back in my sky.” Men and women of a multitude of denominations have found the stars once more because of the hard work of Charles Chandler. Out there in the trenches many serving church, but not all—some maybe do not even remember Charles’ name—never mind—they remember and follow the Lord Jesus still with hope because of Charles Chandler and MTM.

William Stafford, a great American poet said, “I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.” At age 58 dear Charles began to weave a parachute out of the broken  things of his life. Not only vocation—but personal loss in a son—and the disappointments and headaches that we all face. Charles was unselfish with his parachute. He shared his pain and wisdom with so many through these years. And out there across out country so many have woven their own parachutes thanks to Charles and MTM. 

So Charles, even though I am not present with you in person I am with you and Betty in spirit. As I think back to that day in my study in Birmingham over 20 years ago I am glad you shared your dream and I am glad for the tiny part I have played in this incredible ministry of stars and parachutes. 

You have blessed us all. And we thank you for all you have done.

In gratitude,  Roger Lovette

A Prayer for our Troubled Time

photo by Jacob Lawitzki / flickr

(Last Sunday I was asked to give the Pastoral Prayer at our church. The theme was light.  The backdrop of course is a stormy election and a divided people. So I tried to lift up some of these feelings and some of the feelings of those that came to Church. I often say if you come to church and you go away not being reminded of anything going on in this troubled world--you just might not have worshipped at all.)


Light of the world—We come to you today with many things. All around us there are shadows and darkness. We are still in a war that seems to have no end. Too many of our boys and girls still come home in boxes. We fear terrorists—and cannot understand the darkness of ISIS. We cannot understand those leaders who drive out thousands and thousands of their own people. And they have no place to go. And Lord, the world looks very dark indeed.

Meanwhile we here at home are a divided people and we know about darkness. We have an election  which has further divided us—and we know about darkness. We come here on Sundays—and we bring with us the things of our lives. Children…parents…health problems…frazzled relationships…depression…the grief of  missing…missing someone who has gone on before us. Lord, we know about darkness.

But here the light shines through these windows. Here we are reminded through songs and scripture and prayers and sermons that still there is that shining light. Here we look around us at faces who have been through hard battles but are here today still smiling and are still standing—and the darkness of our lives and our time does not look so dark. Here, Lord we bring our darkness. We would love to leave it behind—but we can’t do that. It follows us everywhere on TV and newspapers and computers and phones—the darkness of the world…the darkness that sometimes seems to be everywhere.

John told us that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot put it out. Ever. There are days when we don’t believe that. When life presses down on us too hard or on those we love—we are not sure that light shines in every broken place.

But here—in the silence and the songs and in this hour—shine Jesus shine. Shine Jesus shine. Until we leave here knowing that regardless of what happens in the world or in our hearts—the light, the kindly light of God is here…leading us step by step.

Take this little light of ours, which seems so tiny and inconsequential and blow on it until it shines not only for us but for those around us. And may we know—nothing out there…or nothing in our hearts or our world can separate us from the light and love of God.

Light of the world—be our light. Light of the world. Lead us one and all. We thank you for this. 

This is why we come and this is why we are here. AMEN.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Vote...Don't Stay Home

photo by Terry Chan / flickr

I am doing some heavy thinking about our election next week. I am not alone. People all over the country are in the same boat. And people all over the world are watching us closely to see the results of what we do on November 8th.

This has been a stormy and disturbing time. The unrest across the country has seeped into our  souls. And the bitterness, the anger, and utter confusion has effected a great many of us. 

No election in our history has brought out any more division and genuine fear in so many hearts. Some have told us they will not vote. I am scared that many of our citizens feel this way. Many are going to write in names because they do not like either major candidate. Others tell us they will vote for one of the Independents that have no chance of getting elected. Any one who does not vote for one of the two major candidates may as well not vote. One of these two people will be elected on November 8th.

Benjamin Franklin was leaving Constitution Hall one day when a woman outside recognized him. She asked, “What kind of government are you giving us?” “A republic, Madam,” he said, “if you can keep it.” And every national election has faced this same challenge. Can we keep a republic and a democracy and live up to our name of United States?

We have drifted far from that word, united. And whoever we vote for should try to bring this nation back together. Keeping this republic strong is the real challenge. Leadership is about pointing us in the right direction and stoking the flames of hope. Any candidate that does not give us hope and positive guidance would be a sorry leader. 

The people of this country, Republicans and Democrats are sick and tired of where we are right now. But we need someone who will interject realism into our present condition. The last eight years have been mostly wasted because we tied the hands of the person this country elected, not once but twice. To thwart the will of the majority simply diminishes democracy. And much of this gridlock can be laid at the feet of Congressman and Senators. They have simply failed to live up the charge they was given when they were elected. The bottom line is not power or who wins but getting something done which will help us all.

Fanning the flames of fear will not work. Scaring immigrants and Muslims is unconscionable.  Pitting one group against another does harm and no good. Vice President Biden said recently that we should not question any candidate’s motivation but we should always question their actions. We are not voting for a Pope or a Rock Star but we are voting for the most important leader in the free world. 

Our agenda is large and important. We have a war that is seemingly endless which must be addressed. It has almost bankrupted our country. We must deal strongly with terrorism but not allow its dangers to blur all the other challenges we face as a country. The infrastructure of country needs attention. The public education system today demands serious work. The inequity between the the poor and the very rich is embarrassing. Liberty and justice for all cannot be shoved aside. The common good must be resurrected and worked on by the majority of us. The right leader can help us. All this anti-immigrant talk ignores  the Statue of Liberty and the promise we have made to the world. 

So we stand on Tuesday before the ballot box. We, the people should speak. And with a loud voice we should vote for America. We are not perfect. These flawed candidates are not perfect.   Yet—we are a great people. And despite all our flaws we are a great nation.

There is a powerful verse in the Old Testament that reads, “He gave them up to their request but sent leanness to their souls.” I do not want that to be the epitaph which we hang over the 2016 Presidential election. And this is why we should all vote.

(This article was printed in the Greenville News (SC) November 6, 2016 on the eve of the election.)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

 

Election Time--Unfair and Unbalanced

(Seen on the highway between Clemson and Pendleton, SC)

Are you as tired of this election as I am? Probably so. The trouble is we started much too soon...and it seems like we have been running this thing since 2013. Another problem is that it looks like social media will sink us all. So many people believe all the stuff they read on the internet and this is scary. Sorta reminds me of the time TV first became popular.  People would see something on that bland and white television and think it was true--just because it was on TV. That's what a lot of folks believe about the web. I'm glad they named it the web--because we are all tangled up in this bid-ness.

I've thought long and hard about what I want to say. We are a divided people. About as divided as I have seen in a long time. I have good friends on the Trump side and the Hillary side. Appears to me we don't have any perfect candidates this time. Also looks like we have forgotten our history. Some of our chapters in the story are downright embarrassing--but we have a selective memory. This idea of "fair and balanced" is a little crazy.

Ok. if somebody says the world is flat--are we going to give them equal time with the folk that say the earth is round. Both candidates have shaded the truth--this is part of what it means to run for office. The New York Times ran a two page fold-out the other day of all the Twitter messages Mr. Trump has sent out since this election began. Two pages. Very small type. It is nauseating to read.The lies this man has told us are really unbelievable. Just the idea that our President was not born in the United States which Mr. Trump said continually month after month is reason alone not to vote for him. Then--he stands up with a straight face and says: "I want to announce that President Obama was born in the United States." Duh. Does he think the American people are stupid?

If he is elected we are going to have to go to the cemetery and dig a hole and bury truth. For it will be four years of exaggeration and lies--and the country will drift and we will not know what to say. I'm counting on the fact that we, the people not only know better but will vote better.

I'm not exactly ready to move Hillary to sainthood--but put down the two resumes and I find she is eminently more qualified that Donald Trump. If you disagree this is the American way. But folks--fair and balanced is ridiculous. Our responsible press--and they do a fair job most days--have hooked into this fair and balanced thing and I hope they will learn their lessons. There is something besides the number of readers, the number of poll numbers and all this money they take to the bank. The word we must never lose in integrity.

One of our wisest pundits is Thomas Friedman. Of course I don't agree with some of the things he says. But--his column in Wednesday's New York Times ought to be read by everybody. Bottom line: he says the person we elect for President is a reflection of the people of the country. If we elect Donald Trump--well,  I can't even image a people in this country being so naive.

Jesus ain't running. I am not sure he would ever want to be on the ballot. But we do have to vote and we have a choice in deciding the kind of country we really want to be.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

A Sermon for A Troubled Country

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(This sermon was preached at the North Anderson Community Church in Anderson, SC October 23. On the eve of our Presidential election this was my meditation.)

We get up and put the coffee on—put cold water on our faces maybe put on a bathrobe or enough to get the morning paper. Retrieve the paper—come back in the house —pour a cup of coffee and simultaneously open the paper and turn on the TV. Bad move. It all about the Presidential race. Who said that. Who did what to who. He said what? He called her a criminal and should be locked up. You want to turn it off and yet you are hooked. Who will win and who will lose?  The temperature is climbing here in October. And wonder where all this is going. My sister-in-law says, “We’re going out just in time.” Some days I think she is right. But back to the morning and the papers and the headache. There is so much about this election that doesn’t even seem like America. Some of you remember when everybody got into a huff when Truman said: “Damn.”

Looks like it is a time for us to resurrect that word which sounds kinda mild when you think of all the other stuff we hear in this election. And what is our task—yours and mine. Just to keep saying ain’t it awful—fussing with our kinfolk over the election. You’re gonna vote for who? Countries go through some terrible things. Look at Britain and Brixit and they are in a mess. Look at all those folk who have fled Syria with just what they could carry in their hands. Or Haiti and the absolute injustice of ripping through a country that is said to be the poorest country in the world. Yep—it’s a pretty hard time and you footnote it in just about every direction you turn.

But we Christians and Jews need to remember our history. I think it was the sixth century BC when Nebuchadnezzar marched into the Northern Kingdom of Israel and dragged the best and the brightest back to Babylon. Not once but three times this happened until he had about all there talented and all the able-bodied. Seventy years they lived in exile. Far from home. In a strange land. Worry about the ones left back home—Mamas and Daddies and Grandpas and the sick and the broken. It looked like the end of the world. They kept asking what some of us are asking: “How can you sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?’ Walter Brueggemann tells us that the reason so many people are against gays has nothing to do with gays particularly. He says these people are seeing a whole different world than the one that used to be and they are taking it out on politicians and preachers and school boards and neighbors and just about everybody., There is so much anger. And folk now and singing, as they did then, “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a place like this.” Gays getting married. Transgenders. ISIS and you and me worried about Social Security and Retirement and children and grandchildren. It’s a whole different world. And in some ways we are as much in exile as those folk back in the sixth century. 

photo by Justin Kern / flickr

Prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah came and many folk just spat on them or chased them out of town. But after seventy years King Cyrus, God bless him, came on the throne and told the Israelites they could go home. Some stayed—they had gotten used to Babylon. But most packed up their paltry belonging and stumbled back through the desert. When they got home they looked around at a country broken and in disarray. Government almost nonexistent. Land that used to be fertile filled with stones from all the buildings the Babylonians had destroyed before they left Israel. No economic system. No schools. Just a whole lot of loved ones who had died while they were away. Talk about a strange land. Looking around them nothing looked familiar. This is what we dreamed of coming home to, they said.

God bless them—but Isaiah and Jeremiah and some other prophets held their hands and propped them out and pointed not to what was not but what could be. The Prophets helped them find the way back. Not to 1940 or 1952 when everything was wonderful. No. But the prophets told them to lift up their eyes beyond the mess they were in. They pointed them up to the hills where their help always came from.

And so finally—we come to our theme. I have been moved over and over by the 136 Psalm.  Scholars tell us that the Psalm sung and spoke came out of that terrible time when they got back home and everything—every thing—needed work and attention and rebuilding. And one of the things that kept them going was this Psalm. They used it in worship over and over. 26 times the same phrase recurs. So old Psalmist rubbed their noses in it. Listen. He said. Listen. It is a Thanksgiving Psalm . And in case they missed the point 26 times he tells them why they should sing the Doxology. Praise God. Praise God. Praise God. 

It begins:”O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.” For his steadfast love is said over and over—26 times. Remember the setting. They had little but what they brought back from Babylon. Some of them had died coming home. And they looked out at a very bleak time. And some Psalmist said the strangest thing. “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.

And that phrase: “His steadfast love” hooked me and I hope you too. He told them it ain’t over because the singing fat lady—but because of the steadfastness of God. This was the word God sent his troubled people. 

Two big themes: 1) The Lord is Creator; 2) The Lord is Guide and Champion of Israel from then until now.

They needed a lot of  reminders that they needed some holy, holy, holy in their lives. Fred Craddock, one of our best preachers, told that one day he went down to the hospital to see this woman who have surgery next day. And he said when he got there she had a stack of

photo by Manoj Jacob / flickr

magazines own her nightstand. People Magazine. Cosmo. . What Brad and Angelina were going to do. Talking about the Kardashians. And that weird couple with 26 kids that just split. One magazine talked about how she could lose  weight and look like the new Marilyn Monroe. There was a paperback or two. Love novels. Fifty Shades of Grey. Something just about as dreary. And Dr. Craddock said she was having serious surgery the next day—and she was reading all this stuff. And he said there was not a calorie in the whole stack. She needed some holy, holy, holy to get her through the night and the next day.

And Dancing With the Stars and The Voice and what Whoopie and Ellen are saying…not to speak of Mr.Trump and all those others. No calories. Folks—the Psalmist says that in a time of desperation we need some holy holy. We need to remember, over and over, His steadfast love endures forever. In the Psalm he'd reminds them that God started this thing. But he/she did not just sit down and let it go. God worked in his/her creation.(1-9) God delivered Israel from Egypt. (10-22) God led them through the wilderness on the way to a Promised Land. And the Psalm says: God remembered his people as they tried to settle in Canaan. (23-25) And he ended with a flourish. That steadfast love. God gives food to all flesh.(25)

He told them to go back to ancestry.com and discover how when they were hungry God provided a table in the wilderness. Do you think the Jebusites can stop that steadfast love? Or Mr. Trump. Or Hillary. Even if he is elected God is still God.They called it a touch of wonder. And this age of how much did it cost and how much is gasoline and if our kids will finally grow up and if Clemson will go all the way and if we can deal with these addictions—which we all have. Remember what God told Moses: “Take off your shoes the ground on which you stand is holy.” It has not changed folks. That steadfast love endures forever. Hang on to it and what happened to those after the exile when they had to rebuilt everything—can happen in our time too. To us.

Our fundamental response is to be thankful. Grateful to God. Oh, I know it is hard as nails some days. We read the paper and so many things in there break our hearts or scare us to death—but we Christians cannot let go of the fact that we live our lives in dependence not on ourselves but on Almighty God. 

photo by 4 WardEver Campaign  UK
flickr

Old Isaiah that helped them along put it this way. “For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”( Isaiah 54.10)

Maya Angelou who went through hell before she got on her feet. Sexually abused as a little girl. So traumatized she did not speak for two years. Pregnant at 16.  Worked as a cook, a sex worker, a nightclub dancer. And a black woman in a lily white world. She wrote in her first book a title we ought to hang on to. Now I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. And may we discover in this strange time that the caged bird in our hearts and our time can sing and sing and sing. Why? Why? Because the God we serve is still good. 

Remember that last verse of our Psalm. The Lord promised to spread a table in their wilderness. He still does that. Maybe not the silver and the best china--but we find on that table enough. Enough for what we must be and do. The steadfast love of God.

photo by Sarah / flickr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette/blogspot.com

Birthday Reverie

It all began on a cool October night. October 15, 1935. Born at home in a little four-room mill house which would be my home until way after I went away to college. Dr. Wooldridge, delivered you, my mother would say with reverence. They had waited for years years and no baby came. And I guess they had almost given up when she learned she was pregnant. No Mama could have been prouder. Not only then but her whole life long. You don't think of the wonder of that love and utter delight she showered on you until she was long gone and you look back with a lump in your throat. She and my father had so little of the world's goods--and yet she had two boys that always were her treasure.

Turning eighty-one is not such an easy thing. Forget: "Just remember the alternative". Some days I wonder where it all went. If it had not gone so fast maybe I would have spent more time looking and listening and really seeing the wonder that was all around me.

One of my favorite writers is a Nova Scotia poet I discovered a couple of years ago. He moves me like few poets do. Why? He touches those places in the heart that we all have. Places that dredge up those good, good things we should never forget.

One of his poems is entitled, "Great Things Have Happened." I won't write the whole poem for you but he said he was talking one day with someone about the great things that had happened in their lifetimes. They talked about all sorts of things--and then he said: Nah, those were not the greatest.

"The truth is the moon landing didn't mean 
one-tenth as much to me as one night in 1963 
when we lived in a three-room flat in what once had been 
the mansion of some Victorian merchant prince...
on a street where by now nobody lived 
who could afford to live anywhere else. 
That night, the three of us, Claudine, Johnnie and me, 
woke up at half-past for in the morning 
and ate cinnamon toast together.

'Is that all?' I hear somebody ask.

Oh, but we were silly with sleepiness...
everything was strange without bering threatening... 
it was like the feeling you get 
sometimes in a country you've never visited
before, when the bread doesn't taste quite the same,
the butter is a small adventure, and they put 
paprika on the table instead of pepper,
except that there was nobody in this country
except the three of us, half-tipsy with the wonder
of being alive, and wholly enveloped in love."


81 years. What were the greatest things that happened? I do not rightly know. I don't have the word-pictures of Nowland. It took years and years for me to know that growing up across from the mill with so little of the world's goods...knowing deeply the hard-living people around me--that the gifts they gave me are with me still. Or the little church with the tall white columns where I walked down the aisle terrified one night and began my faith journey.

Maybe it was the friends that made it all happen. Or the Sunday dinners where the little formica table was weighed down with all the things I called my favorites. My red-headed brother that I fought and loved. Maybe it was that First Grade teacher that I felt loved that little bare-footed boy. Or maybe later that fat journalism teacher who listed and laughed when she could have been doing more important things. Or the teen-age friends or one or two other teachers. Who knows?

Maybe it was college. A school nobody thought was important that opened the doors and windows to so much that was out there. What a glorious time. Going to the Post office week after week and opening that little envelope that held fifteen crumpled dollars from my mother that kept me going. Who knows?

Seminary. The Y where I worked with kids who came from the wrong places and could tell you the
damnedest stories. Or those Profs that helped you open the black book like it was the first time and discovering an inner world you did not know existed. Or that December 5th night when, you had your first date with you and you knew--then and now still--was the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.

That first church way out in the middle of nowhere and farmers and wives who loved us despite our city ways. Or Pooch our first dog. Or even bigger-- that red-headed little girl who came one cool October night of her own. Followed four years later by another redhead, a boy this time.

Or all those other churches little and big where they came in one by one hoping just hoping that something said or done would make a difference. But for me...the Reverend...they gave me more faith and hope and love than I could ever give them.

The rare Sundays when God really did walk down those some unlikely aisles and changed it all. The buildings we built. The prayers we prayed. The people we had to say painful words over at some cemetery. All those with AIDS we ached for. Who knows? Or those who didn't have to but came to your rescue when you were so broken and wondered if you could go on. But more--the woman who believed in you and propped you up and stood and stands by you then and how. Talk about great things.

 That night when they gave me a retirement dinner and they came out of the woodwork from every  church I had ever served. Or that next last day when Tom Corts prayed as only that gifted wordsman could pray: "Thanking God for all those people I had touched that could not even remember my name."

Kids growing up. College for them in Louisville and Chicago. Wandering from rooms to room missing them so, so much. But that summer we spent in England. Their Graduations and hurled into the world of adulthood. Teaching in Louisville...finding your way in Chicago. Or standing not once but twice at the hospital as our grand-girls were born. And watching them grow up and become young women. How did that happen? That week-end when I stood on holy ground by a fireplace and married my son to his partner. And the wonderful week-end that followed.

The great things. Work...wife...children...friends. Faith on and off and hope sometimes and a love that I still am overwhelmed by: that never lets me go. The great things. Cats and dogs and houses we wall- papered and painted and made work. Flowers. Cars that worked. The fresh-smell of grass cut and job over for another week. And books and music and sunshine and changing seasons--especially October.

This is far too long. The reverie of an old man who maybe ought to shut up. But on this day, the day of my birth I do remember some of the great things that have happened and I am grateful.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Mr. Trump and School Children

photo by Central Elementary School-77 / flickr

The Southern Poverty Law Center keeps its hand on the pulse of what is happening in the nation. Morris Dees and his staff have been keeping their fingers on the pulse of our country for a long time. They say their charge is to: "fight hate...teach tolerance...and seek justice."" Lately they have turned the spotlight on this presidential election and it's effects on the children in our classrooms.

They surveyed 2,000 K-12 teachers. They have said their survey is not scientific. They have reported that those school teacher responders are likely those who are concerned about the impact of this presidential campaign on their students and schools. This is what they have found:

• Two-thirds of the teachers reported that students--mainly immigrants, children of immigrants and Muslims--have expressed concerns or fears for what might happen to them and their families after this election.
• More than half have seen an increase in uncivil political discourse.
• More than one-third has observed an increase in anti-Muslim or anti-immigrant sentiment. 
• Forty percent of the teachers steer away from election discussion because it produces anxiety and unrest in many of their students.

Though no political candidates names were mentioned in the survey instructions--out of 5,000 comments Mr. Trump was mentioned 1,000 times. Comments stated the students were afraid. One teacher wrote: "My students are terrified of Donald Trump. They think that is he is elected, all black people will be sent back to Africa."

In state after state teachers report similar fears from minority students, One Virginia elementary teacher said students were crying in the classroom and having meltdowns at home. In North Carolina a high school teacher said that she had Latino students who carry their birth certificates and Social Security cards to school because they fear they will be deported. Many Muslim students are receiving taunts from other students. They are called terrorists, ISIS members or bombers. 

We do not know the long-term effect on these children. Neither do we know the long-term effect of this election on all of us. But we do know that, as I have said before, words matter. Read the abbreviated report for yourself or the full report of all the teachers' comments. It is worth pondering this report which is presented by the Center.

Maybe you are as tired of this subject as I am. But we must look long and hard at this election. There is too much at stake to turn away.

photo by Quinn Dombrowski / flickr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovetteblogspot.com