I’m on my way home…and Karen’s bringing you the last of the guest bloggers for a little while… tomorrow, I hope to get back in my normal routine of blogging… but i may have to sleep. Or clean. Or unpack. Or do laundry. Regardless, enjoy Karen’s post and go pay her a visit…

When I was in 9^th grade, I took Typing 101 from Mr. Hunt. He was our small-town high school’s assistant coach and resident funny man. On rainy days, he’d wear tan incredibly bright yellow 3-piece polyester suit straight out of the 70’s, with an even brighter grin on his face.

He was good-natured and could take it just as well as he could dish it out. That probably had something to do with the fact that he was a coach, because he was partial to ribbing the athletes, of which I was one.

His class was the highlight of my day and I truly looked forward to 5^th period every day. Of course, that had nothing to do with my typing skills, because I was prone to resorting to the old hunt and peck method for timed tests. But I still looked forward to his lessons and I could not fathom being able to type as fast as he told us we would, much less type whole words or sentences.

Sometime around the end of basketball season, I broke my thumb doing backpedals. My hand in a cast, I had a horribly painful time keeping up his class and actually fell behind on speed tests. My right hand just could not force itself into the painful configuration necessary for typing speed, and so I failed more tests than I passed during that time.

In addition to being my typing teacher, Mr. Hunt was also my coach - because of my height, I had made the Varsity girl’s basketball team and this injury had knocked me out of season playoffs. It was a double whammy for me and he could see it. I’m sure that he was conflicted about how to handle my situation in class, because I was failing miserably.

One day after class, he asked me to stay for a moment and we had ourselves a little heart to heart right there at my typing desk. I was halfway hoping he’d go easy on me, but there was no such luck. He started by sharing with me that sometimes God gives us trials to make us stronger, to refine us as human beings.  He said that with adversity comes an advantage and an opportunity. I could either give up and use my broken hand as an excuse or I could use it as a reason to get better. If I gave up, he wasn’t going to fail me, but he promised me a “D” in the class. He didn’t play favorites when it came to his class and even though we had a good relationship, he said that he couldn’t live with himself if he gave me more than what I deserved.

I didn’t have to think about it very long because I loved my coach and looked up to him. I knew that he wanted the very best for me and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down, so I purposed in my heart to be an overcomer right then and there. For two weeks, with his permission, I came to class during lunch and practiced getting my typing speed up to where it should be. I passed the year, not with a D, but with a solid “B”, because I’d earned it. I had really wanted an “A”, but I knew that the 4 weeks I’d been lazy had been the reason he couldn’t give me one. I felt good about my accomplishment, but even more so the fact that I had pushed myself past what I thought I was capable of and had achieved something I thought was impossible.

I think about this exchange often when I am tempted to let my kids off the hook because it’s easier for me. I think about the long term effects of every decision I make and how it’s going to echo in the lives of my children, shaping and molding them to raise their own. And today, I thought about Mr. Hunt, who had no children of his own, except those he coached and mentored. Twenty three years later, I still see him in my mind’s eye and wish I could thank him for some very valuable lessons learned.

Karen Lewis is the owner of Simply Amusing Designs and blogs at Simply a Musing Blog.

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