Wishing you A Shay Day!

A friend of mine sent this story to me a few weeks ago. I enjoyed learning about Shay, and I know you will also...

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first! Run to first!’

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’ Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay’. Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third!

Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’ Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.


Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the ‘natural order of things. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice. Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.
-Posted in honor of my very own Shay-

A Fun Trip To The Salon

This picture by the Associated Press caught my eye recently. These are women from Saudi Arabia and they are looking at cars. They can own a car in their homeland, but they are not allowed to drive. Apparently, there are recent uprisings by the women, who feel that the clerics should take another look at the Koran. Since women in a few other Islamic countries are allowed to drive, they feel they should be allowed, too. This picture and the article picqued my curiosity because of the women I teach. One has obtained her license, bought a Lexus, and is driving all over Houston! The other one is in the process...she begins her driving instructions soon, and she can't wait.

I find their lifestyle intriguing. I'm learning that I don't like their coffee (it's more of an herbal drink - no coffee beans used). I just learned this the other day...Islamic men can not wear gold - only the women. The men wear silver. I knew that they prayed five times a day, but I didn't know that the times change a little bit everyday. The times are based on the position of the sun. One of the prayer times comes around 1:30, right in the middle of one of my classes. My student feels comfortable enough to pray while I am in the house with her. We simply stop the class, pray, and begin again. I've decided to pray at the same time. While she is praying to Allah and kneeling on the floor, I am sitting at the dining room table praying to God. They have a special clock in their home that calls them to prayer at the correct times. You would think that I would be used to the sound by now, but it always sort of startles me!

Another thing I'm learning is the importance of a woman's hair. It really is their crowning glory - so much so, that other men are not allowed to see it. This fact caused a little dilemma for me last week. My student wanted to go to the salon for a haicut and color. She hadn't been to a salon for three years, so this was a big deal! I had no idea how to find a salon where I could guarantee it would be a "man-free" environment. I did a "google" search, but came up empty handed. Then I called an Islamic bookstore and asked if they could help me. Cha-ching! They were able to point me in the right direction!

We went yesterday. What fun! We were escorted to a little room that had a door they could lock and blinds they could close. In the privacy of the room, my friend could "unwrap". After two hours, she looked like a new woman! She wanted her bangs to be cut like mine (I thought that was so cute!), but her husband would allow only a little cut off the ends. Her hair is waist-length and so very lovely! I wanted to take a picture, but she said, "No! Thank you!" I guess they have to be covered up in the pictures.

Once she was correctly wrapped up (which seemed like such a shame to me, because it looked so nice after it was blown dry and flat ironed!), we got back into the car and drove home. We had the baby, Abdullah, with us. When she got out of the car, she thanked me and then said, in very broken English, "Baby go home with you! Bye, Abdullah!" I'm glad we can have so much fun together, despite the fact that most of the time we don't understand each other!

Father's Day Tribute

Tomorrow is Father's Day. It brings back many memories of my father. It's hard to believe that he has been in heaven for ten years. In honor of Father's Day, I would like to share just a few of the things that make me smile when I recall my dad and his life.

I tried to scan some pictures. I didn't do a very good job. Someone is going to have to teach me how to do this so that it looks nicer. Anyway, I'll share the pictures with you, along with a few of my memories.

These are pictures from the early 20's, when my dad was just just a little guy. The bottom one is his birth announcement. I have the envelope that it was mailed in, complete with a 2 cent stamp! I love the picture with his mother. My dad was her first son, and he was named "Albert", after his father. While growing up, he was called "Junior". I always thought he was "Albert Rodenhouse", but my father ALWAYS wrote his full name as "Albert M. Rodenhouse". I learned this the hard way when I made out my wedding invitations and left the all-important "M" out of his name. His response when I showed him my invitations? "They look nice, but you spelled my name wrong!"

I like these pictures because they remind me of how much he loved his family. When David was a baby, we traveled to Florida. That's a picture of my dad just being relaxed and being a good grandpa as he feeds David a bottle. The rest of the family spent the day at Disney, but he stayed home and took care of his grandson. I also love the fact that he is in his "jumpsuit". For some reason, my dad went through a long phase in his life when he wore jumpsuits! It was kind of a strange "phenomonon" that he went through because my dad was know for being quite a stylish dresser.The next picture was taken at our home in Biloxi. We lived about 14 hours from his place in Florida, but he always went out of his way to drive over to our home on the way to Florida and again on the way back to Michigan. In this picture he is celebrating with Laura on her 16th birthday. The bottom picture was taken at the Marco Island Country Club. It was Dad's 75th birthday and he treated us to a wonderful dinner at the club where he loved to golf.

I like these pictures because they remind me of dad's love for stories and people. An example of this would be the stories dad liked to tell about his uncle. My dad's uncle lived a fascinating life. Uncle Gerrit not only attended the famed Julliard School of Music, but he also managed to marry the governor's daughter from the Island of St. Maarten. In 1993, my dad and his brother visited the island and toured the family home. This is a picture of him with Emilio, one of the people that worked for Uncle Gerrit. Emilio was able to share many new stories with my dad. Seeing him with Emilio reminds me of my dad's love for people of all ethnicities and backgrounds. A great memory I have is of the times he spent with Mr. Waites at our cottage. I guess today most people would call Mr. Waites "African-American". I loved to see those two together. I often was with my dad at the cottage when he and Mr. Waites would work together in getting the cottage ready to "open up" for the summer. There were always so many leaves to rake and twigs to pick up and flowers to plant! In the middle of the day, they would take a break for lunch. Dad told me that Mr. Waites was pretty surprised the first time dad invited him inside to have lunch together. I also like this saying that he learned from Mr. Waites: It's not a matter of skin, but a matter of sin. It's not a matter of race, but a matter of grace. They loved to talk about the things of God with each other. I especially loved it when I got to have lunch with them and dad would ask Mr. Waites to say the blessing. That man could pray! But so could my dad. In fact, the family joke has always been my mom reminding my dad not to pray so long before a Sunday dinner...she didn't want the food to get cold!

My dad was a man of many interests. He loved collecting cars and coins and glassware. Whatever he collected, he went after the best! His cars often won the trophy for "Best of Show". He became so knowledgeable about glassware that he was asked to speak at conventions! I love the story about the day he saw an ad in the paper for a specific car that he always wanted to add to his collection. I think it belonged to the Kellogg family.(Or some really well-known, wealthy family.) Anyway, he drove many hours to see the car. When he arrived at the "mansion", the groundskeeper told dad that Mrs. Kellogg could not be disturbed because she was having devotions. My dad asked if he could see the car. He was escorted to a huge warehouse/garage that housed all the cars ever owned by the family! They were all on blocks and in pristine condition. Finally, my dad got to meet Mrs. Kellogg. My dad shared with her that he also began everyday with devotions. This was the beginning of quite a lengthy conversation. Finally my dad was able to bet around to asking about the car, only to have her say, Oh, the car is not for sale. I was only curious if it would generate any interest. If I do ever sell the car, however, I want it to go to a man of your caliber. Several years later he received a call that the car was his if he was still interested. Once again he drove the distance and thought for certain he would have another visit with Mrs. Kellogg. He was told that she was too emotionally upset about the car leaving, so he proceeded to get the car into the trailer. As he pulled away, he saw her looking out of the window. I didn't do the story justice. If my dad told it, you would have been mesmerized!

I learned many things from my dad. Because of him, I love to write. My dad wrote a lot. Especially Bible studies and sermons. He also wrote many, many letters to me over the years...especially when I was in college. I remember one of the very first letters he wrote to me in college was all about not "gulping at life". He advised me to savor the seconds and not to be in such a rush.

He loved a good story, a good joke, and a good quote. when I was in high school, he had this quote from David Livingston written in the front of his Bible: Lord, send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. Sever any ties but the ties that bind me to your service and to your heart.

From him I received my love for public speaking. My dad spoke a lot. He even used to preach! It always made me very proud to see my dad in front of an audience.

My dad instilled in me at a very early age my love for God and a desire to bring honor and glory to Him. That's really what my dad was all about. And while he loved his family and the things of this earth, it was evident to all that heaven was his home. He had a close relationship with his heavenly Father. I love the fact that the last word I ever heard my dad say was, "Amen". He was confined to a hospital bed for the last weeks of his life. The last few days of his life he spent in what looked like a "sleep state". His eyes were closed and he no longer spoke. Our pastor came to visit maybe a day or two before dad's death. He read the Bible and prayed. At the end of the prayer, dad raised his hands and said, "Amen!". We were all surprised to hear him say anything!

It brings me great comfort to know that my dad is with the Lord. I know he is enjoying heaven. I know he is enjoying the music of heaven and I know he is enjoying being in the presence of the One he lived for!

My dad left me a great legacy. I'm thankful that he was my dad. Thanks for letting me share just a few of my memories.