The Timberline Letter

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Written By: Beverly Oxley

Narrated By: Kara Lea Kennedy

When I walked into Mrs. Sauer’s classroom midway through 5th grade, it was the third one I had attended so far that year. I didn’t expect to stay long, so I didn’t even try to make new friends.

Because I entered so many schools, I was the perpetual “new kid.” Adapting quickly was essential. As the merry-go-round spun, I had to just run in, grab the bar, and hang on.

I hated being watched and judged as I entered each new classroom. But within a couple of days, I could usually spot the kids who might join me at lunch or for jacks at recess. I was pretty good at jacks, though sometimes I’d lose just to win a new friend. Reading the social landscape accurately was crucial in a new school.

Mrs. Sauer was a petite, professional woman who saw beyond outward appearances. When she looked at me, I don’t think she saw a transient or even a lanky child. She saw someone in need of care. She seemed to look deep into my soul. I began to feel she saw my potential. That’s what dream makers do—they look past the surface and imagine a new future for certain ones in their paths. Through her words of inspiration, Mrs. Sauer changed the course of my life.

My father was a true dreamer; he seized job opportunities that required rapid relocation. My siblings and I learned to stash our keepsakes in a cardboard box, always prepared to move at a moment’s notice.

Dreamers are rarely dream makers. They get so caught up in their own dreams that they cannot see the budding dreams in those around them, even their own children.

In A Muppet Christmas Carol, Jim Henson gives us a glimpse into Ebenezer Scrooge’s childhood schoolteacher. He saw potential in him. As it turned out, Ebenezer was a math prodigy, bound for success in the world of finance. He could become wealthy if he played his cards right. Ebenezer bought into the dream, staying in at recess to get ahead instead of playing with the other kids.

Years later, Scrooge faced his fiancée, Belle. He had postponed their marriage for five years as he pursued his dream of amassing more and more wealth. Belle sings a mournful, heartbreaking song as she breaks off the engagement, “The Love is Gone.” Scrooge chose money over love. The dream planted by his teacher came at a cost. The love of money was more precious to Scrooge than the love of a woman.

When Mrs. Sauer looked inside me, she saw a rudderless child in need of hope and purpose. So, she planted two dreams. First, she saw potential for modeling. She often kept me in at recess, teaching me posture, poise, and confidence—strengths that would build my self-assurance and contribute to my direction. I learned to walk in a straight line with a book on my head.

Before summer break, Mrs. Sauer gave me another dream: she told me I could go to college. That seed, though possibly shared with every student she taught, was transformative for me. No one in my family had ever attended college; her words took root in my heart. From that moment on, I held onto the dream of higher education, quietly believing it was possible for me. That’s when I began to hear a future calling me.

When the time was right, as a high school senior, I shared my college aspirations with my mother. Naturally, her response was practical: “You’ll have to find a way to pay for it.” But the financial uncertainty and other challenges could not extinguish the dream Mrs. Sauer lit in me.

Now, years later, when I look back over my career as a special education teacher, college professor, and psychologist, I see I was able to influence the younger generation. I try to approach that responsibility thoughtfully, taking time to understand each student’s motivations and abilities before offering words that inspire a vision for a productive future.

Every one of us holds the power to be a dream maker or dream breaker. Our words can linger for a lifetime, either inspiring confidence or creating barriers that block pathways. By choosing to encourage and boost young dreamers, we may even help them make choices they won’t live to regret.

Words can create encouragement or discouragement. That’s why speaking or writing words that heal, lift, and bless represent a high calling.

Perhaps my father needed a dream maker in his life.

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This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

Written By: Marianne Paulus

Narrated By: Kara Lea Kennedy

As I do every year, I recently decorated our home for Christmas. I’ve always done so with great anticipation of our lovely house after I am finished. But this year, nostalgia and sadness also came over me in the process.

In years past, Christmas decorating was a family affair. My husband, Bob, would help me get the tree set up and untangle the web of Christmas lights (as he still does). But then the three boys and I would decorate the tree while listening to the same vinyl records that recalled and celebrated the Christmas story each year in our home. The task also included hot chocolate, laughter, and tripping over one another as we did what needed to be done.

But seasons change. Sons grow up, leave, and buy homes of their own to decorate. So, the job of decorating falls on Bob and me. And we now have a “decorator” tree instead of the cherished collection of homemade ornaments, craft fair treasures and other assorted Christmas baubles. Some of the same songs wash over me, but now they come from Pandora. When I’m done, it still looks beautiful, but then I have to shake off the tinge of melancholy from remembering Christmases past.

One recent morning, I read Isaiah 43:18-19:

“Do not call to mind the former things. Or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new. Now it will spring forth: Will you not be aware of it?”

As I read that passage, I wondered if looking back through the lens of loss caused me to miss out on the new thing. Was I overlooking the joy and the richness of the present because I was so locked into the memories of what was? Could I perhaps create and broaden new circles of Christmas celebration and fellowship? Could we enjoy the delight of beautiful new things?

These questions brought new levels of gratitude for the now of my life, but also caused me to look for the new—in relationships, opportunities, and other new things that could be added to it. Perhaps by letting go of the former things, I can enjoy each moment that comes to our home from the new things.

Marianne Paulus is the mother of three sons and grandmother to nine. She has two college degrees she has never been paid to use. You can read about that story and others in her memoir, Intersections: Stories of Faith When God Intersected a Life. She and her husband Bob work together with their church’s marriage and family ministry from their home in Bedford, Texas.

The Timberline Letter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit timberlineletter.substack.com/subscribe