Wednesday Women: Edition 3

Where did this week go? There has been so much going on that I'm doing well to shower each day, let alone check email or (heaven forbid) blog. I have three or four different posts started, but nothing finished, and here it is Wednesday again. Not that anyone but my dad actually reads this (Hi, Dad), but here's hoping I can catch up a bit in the next week.

I do want to take time out to honor this week's Wednesday Woman. Since I'm doing this in chronological order, these are still childhood memories, and they are not always very clear, so bear with me.

When I was a child, I attended a private school (Knoxville Christian School). I cannot remember half of my college professors' names, but I remember my teachers' names for grades 1, 2 and 3 (mainly because the teacher for 1 and 2 was the same woman, just with a different last name because she married one of the student's fathers the summer in between...but that's another story). Today, I'd like to tell you about my third grade teacher, Mrs. Mattie Lou Robinson.

Mrs. Robinson seemed so old to me (and I think she actually was). She was tall and very thin and wore her gray hair teased into a beehive of sorts. She always wore a very sweet smile, even when she was reprimanding us, which she did frequently. One of my most vivid memories of her is the daily reminder to wash our hands after using the bathroom because if we didn't, we might as well eat poo-poo. In my mind's eye, I can see her sweet smile and the shape of her mouth as she said the word "poo-poo". Even today, I think of her nearly every time I wash my hands. But I digress...

Mrs. Robinson dedicated an entire semester to the study of the book of Acts. She told us the stories in vivid detail of the gift of the Holy Spirit and the stoning of Stephen. She made the Bible come alive for us. She made the men and women in that book tangible and easy to understand. Each day, when we opened our Bibles together, we went on an adventure. There were maps and pictures all over the classroom, and we understood the places that Paul walked to be real places that we longed to see for ourselves. From infancy, I went to church and had my own Bible. But Mrs. Robinson showed me that it was more than just a book with cool stories. It is the living, breathing word of God.

Years later, when I was at Harding University, Mrs. Robinson showed up at a recital I was scheduled to sing for. I think she was attending one of those classes for retired people. And I'm not kidding you, she looked EXACTLY the same. And she remembered me. I was honored to have the opportunity to thank her in person for the impact she'd had on my personal hygiene and, more importantly, my love of God's book.

Each year, when my children start school, I pray they will have teachers who impact their lives for Christ like Mrs. Robinson did mine. What an awesome gift to a child. And what an amazing gift to a parent, to help mentor a child like she did.

Now, I think I would be shocked to find out she is still living here on earth. If she is, I'm sure she's been on a Smucker's label on Willard Scott's weather report (which is code for REALLY old). But assuming she's passed on, I have no doubt that she's with her Father, the ultimate storyteller.

So here's to you, Mrs. Robinson (you know I couldn't resist), I imagine you're enjoying washing your hands in that heavenly sink.