This morning, my mom and I got to talking about math and education.  It was sort of related to this student I’ve been tutoring in mathematics- this student is so smart, but her experiences have shown me a very negative side of the math education world.

But it also got me to thinking about some of my own teachers and professors over the years.  Mom and I got to talking about Dr. Vince Edmondson, a phenomenal mathematics professor who taught my college algebra class when I was a freshman in college.  Dr. Edmondson pulled me aside after class one day and told me that he saw in me the potential to be a math major.  I was too shy to tell him this at the time, but he will never know what those words meant.  See, if you know me and you know my history, I wasn’t supposed to be a math major.  I was in a car accident and had a brain injury at the age of 17, and after that brain injury, a lot of people didn’t think I would ever be “smart” like that again.  Some of those people were doctors or therapists, but some of them were teachers.  Fighting back from that brain injury is among the hardest things I’ve ever done.  Dr. Edmondson validated that battle in a way few others could.

With him on the mind, I googled his name to see if I could track him down.  I was so sorry to discover that Dr. Edmondson passed away just a couple of years after I had him as a teacher.

I can’t think about my exploits in mathematics without also thinking of another professor, Dr. Jennifer Snyder.  Dr. Snyder taught a physics class that I had surrounding the time of my brain injury.  I have lost track of her over the years, a fact which I regret with all my heart.  Dr. Snyder believed in me at a time when few others did.  I certainly could not have finished that physics class without her.  And what I wouldn’t give to tell her how much she changed my life.

I googled her name too, and I found a bio for a man who I think might be her husband.  It’s a long shot, but I emailed him- I let Dr. Edmondson slip away without ever telling him how much he changed my life, and I don’t want to lose Dr. Snyder the same way.

When I think of them, I wish I had studied mathematics or science.  I could have done it, but at the time I was not strong enough to do it on my own.  If it did not cost so much, I would go back to school.  I would study math or science, or apply for a DVM program, or maybe just study for the sake of studying.  But it does cost money, and I am not in a place where I can afford that, financially.

It brings tears to my eyes, to remember how strongly those professors believed in me.  Such passion- if only every teacher had such a strong belief in their students, we could change the world!  It was that belief that made me want to study harder and do more.  It is the memory of  people like them that makes me even consider going back to school.  It is people like them who make a better world.

I heard this on the radio, and I’m sorry that I can’t find a transcription of this clip, because it is just so powerful.  This “Melinda Paraphrase” will have to do.

A gentleman came up to Luis Palau and asked him, why does he spend so much time traveling to third world nations and teaching them about Jesus?  Shouldn’t he be teaching them about more practical things, like getting food and medical care and such?

Luis Palau responded, there is nothing more practical than Jesus.  Jesus changes people.  Changed people change the world.

He continued, all the problems in our world today, and specifically all the problems of third world nations, were created by man, not by Jesus.

Listen, Booth, I would do anything for you.  I would die for you (and) I would kill for you.

-Seeley Booth, from “Bones”

Are you TRYING to drive me crazy, Booth?

I’m going to make a confession that is VERY non-politically-correct.

I want to get married.

The feminist movement wants me to say that I don’t need a man and I shouldn’t want a man.  And you know what?  They are half-right- I do not need a man.  I am an educated woman and I am perfectly capable of providing for my own needs.  I operate websites, I write books, I market things- if I never get married, I will be okay.  But in spite of what “they” say, I want to get married.  And perhaps the most non-politically-correct part is why.

It’s not sex.

I’ve never had sex- from what I’ve heard, it is a very enjoyable activity and I’m sure it would be a nice advantage to being married.  But it is not why I want to get married.

The world is a scary place.  I think very few people would disagree with that.  All you have to do is watch the news and you see it- war and crime, raging from simple property theft to murder and everything in between.  Add to that the potential for emotional pain.  And even scarier is the thought of facing those things alone.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the power of touch lately.  You can ridicule me if you want, but my “experience” in the romance department is virtually nonexistant.  Some might call this a disadvantage, but I believe this gives me a unique advantage as a woman.

You see, on the few occasions in my life when I have been physically close to a man, on every instance I reminded of the powerful emotions that go with physical closeness.  I’m not talking about being close to a man in a romantic/sexual sense- I have never been close to a man in that sense.  I’m talking about hugs of friendship and trust.

When a man- a friend- is close to me like that, there is a powerful electricity.  In that moment, that is when a male friend is drawing close and saying, “I am your friend and I will protect you”.  That is phenomenally reassuring.

When I sleep, I am definitely a dreamer.  Most of my nighttime dreams are of the nonsense variety- strange dreams that don’t make a lot of sense.  But I have had just a handful of dreams in my life that were intense and unforgettable.  One of those dreams reminded me of the power of touch.

In this dream, there was some kind of crime, a la primetime crime dramas, and I was beaten quite badly.  The criminals had left and I was laying on the floor of a large room.  Two police officers, one man and one woman, entered, with their guns drawn.  The male officer holstered his gun and approached me.  He placed his hand on my neck to check my pulse, announced that he felt a pulse, and then gathered me into his arms.

As can only happen in dreams, my eyes were closed but I could still see everything happening around me.  When the police officer picked me, I was overwhelmed by the desire to open my eyes, as well as the desire to keep my eyes closed for fear that this would disappear.

I was overwhelmed by the knowledge that, in that moment, as I was held in the arms of this police officer, everything was going to be okay.  It was not because I was romantically attracted to this man or because there was any kind of sexual feelings going on.  It was because I knew, in that moment, that this man had chosen to protect me.  In that moment, he was telling me- not with words but with a much deeper communication- that he would protect me from anything that might attack us.

It reminded me, of course, of the moment when I became a Christian.  It was a tangible representation of what happened in that moment.  In that moment, I had been brutally attacked by sin and was entirely helpless.  Jesus walked in, to rescue me, to protect me, and to tell me that everything would be okay.

Plumb sang a song that was written as a parent to child, but which I believe perfectly explains the message of Jesus:

Clouds will rage
And storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

Clouds will rage
And storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms