I am so excited about today.
It's Sunday and so many good things are before me. We are making a huge breakfast--breakfast burritos--and then sending Jace off to a Pathfinder outing regarding Derby races with homemade cars.
And then? Roy and I are going on a bonafide DATE! Ah. I love going on dates.
We're going to see a movie (though we aren't sure yet which one) and if the weather cooperates, we may throw in a motorcycle ride. And that's all good stuff. But last night I was talking to a young girl and she is going through something that is painful--that hurts her heart. It all has to do with dreams and plans and hopes...and then helplessly watching them crash down. When you're in the midst of all of that drama, it is excruciating.
It hurts to breathe.
We've all been there a time or two--those moments where you're just not sure how you're going to put one foot in front of the other. Those moments when you doubt yourself and wonder if you're destined for a life of misery. Those moments where you wonder if you're worthy of love.
But this girl? She is flat-out amazing. I wish she could see what I see, or what I know others see, when they look at her. She is filled with self-doubt which, in my opinion, is comical. What's there to doubt? I know that, if she just keeps moving forward, life will fall into place for her in astounding ways.
Yesterday Jace and I went to SonRise kitchen and helped out. SonRise kitchen is a nonprofit organization established by some people in our church that feeds the homeless every Saturday morning. It's quite an impressive venture as they don't serve the homeless in a typical line up and get your food then sit down at a table type fashion. Rather, people serve as waiters and take the orders of the patrons--then serve them. Other volunteers bring juice and coffee so that these people who are used to being treated as the dregs of society have a few moments of living like the rest of us. More than once I held back the tears as I watched these sweet people, so gracious and thankful, say thank you. I'm not used to being waited on.
But one particular guy was overcome with a grateful heart. Every morning when SonRise opens, Tricia, one of the founding people, reads a devotion from Jesus Lives. Initially she read it for the volunteers but eventually it turned into a devotion for everybody who happened to be in the room at the time--and now the regulars look forward to it. So this one particular guy (who is not a regular, I might add) took the book out of Tricia's hands and began to read over the microphone. And then he talked about a God who has his back. He talked about how we don't need to worry where we're going to lay our heads at night; we don't need to worry if we're going to have another meal.
He talked from experience about blessings he enjoys each day and the peace of knowing that his life is in the hands of a Being much greater and bigger than he is.
And as he talked, I shook my head in wonder. Because when I look at this guy, I feel so sad for him. Clearly he doesn't have clean clothes or the bounties of life that I experience. His life is my greatest nightmare. And yet...he finds beauty.
So as I considered his words, I was reminded of a conversation Darian and I had recently about who God is. I don't know how to make sense of so much havoc that is endured in this world. Why are some of us born into middle class America while others are born into starvation and poverty? Why are young girls and boys allowed to be sold into prostitution at the tender age of 12...and sometimes younger? Why are helpless babies allowed to suffer unspeakable acts? The list goes on--horrors that, if we allowed them to, would keep us up at night. We like to think we have the answers to these questions as I too have been involved in discussions where we blame a sinful world for the atrocities that others suffer.
But sometimes that's not enough. When it becomes personal? It's not enough.
And so...Darian and I were discussing recently how God's job is to always move us forward. It seems apparent that He doesn't control where we are born or all of the circumstances of our lives. But somehow, despite where we are in life, there are subtle shifts in guidance. Hope remains. Hope keeps us moving one step at a time...
And that hope? That's God.
All of us can look back at our lives and remember heartaches that we cursed at the time. We wished for something different, we begged for relief. But when we manage to climb that brutal mountain and get on the other side, we look back and realize that the pain we experienced gave us depth. It gave us wisdom and compassion. It gave us understanding.
And so, sweet girl who I know is hurting today, you just hold on. Because I promise you that...
the sun will keep rising and setting.
Life will change in shades and ...
someday you'll look back and smile at this momentary heartbreak.
And you will know in the depths of your heart that God was just --
moving you forward,
in subtle shifts,
day by day,
until...
finally--
you are free...
basking in the life of your dreams.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
The Beauty of Old
My curtains came in yesterday. I didn't realize it until we pulled into the driveway after eating out with the gymnastics team at Papa's & Beer. But there they were in a small brown box, leaning against the garage door. Roy said, "What is that box?"
I peered out the window to read the large print on the box and finally, after squinting and cocking my head a bit because I am 47 and my eyesight isn't what it used to be without a whole lot of help, saw the letters K-O-H-L-S. "My curtains!"
And so, even though it was almost 8:00 and I had yet to step foot in the front door since leaving it at 8:45 that morning, I ripped open the box, pulled out the curtains, and started changing up my living room. Of course, the decorative rod hasn't arrived yet so...it was a bit of a waste as they are just going to have to come down again when the rods get in. But oh well...it was so much fun. I took down the old curtains, windexed the windows and surrounding woodwork (that was embarrassing), used a screw driver and took down all the blinds, vaccuumed, hung the new curtains, moved the furniture around, and then stood back and admired my work.
The entire time I was working, Jace was in his room playing. But about the time I finished, he came out to ask me a question. As his eyes realized that the living was room completely different, he stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, Mom! It's a whole new house!" And then he plopped down on the couch and just looked around, in awe.
"Jace, you need to get ready for bed."
"I don't ever want to leave, Mom. I love new."
Of course, I love "new" too. I mean, what's not to love? New curtains. New cars. New homes. New clothes. New books to read. New big screen tvs. New shoes. New iPads. New furniture. I could go forever. "New" brings with it a whole element of excitement and anticipation and so many good things (especially when "new" is paid for).
But earlier yesterday, Tammy and I had lunch together at our new favorite hangout, Atlanta Bread, and we were discussing the beauty of "old". We've both moved enough in our lifetimes to recognize the reality that it takes a minimum of two years to adjust to a new place. When your home changes color, you are faced with new friends, a new doctor, a new hair stylist, a new church, a new address, a new grocery store, a new school for the kids, new everything.
And suddenly, the fascination with new flies right out the window. Every time I move I go through a period of anguish, missing the old. I second-guess our decision, longing for yesterday. But not Roy. He is straight ahead, plowing through, never looking back. I admire that.
Since we;ve moved here, we have struggled financially for the longest period of time in our married life than I can remember. It's been difficult having two kids in academy or college and one in elementary school and yet my salary is a pittance. When we took the job, it was with the understanding that something would work out for me soon though certainly no promises were made. But four years later, here we are: I am still part-time. And so, I asked Roy if he ever regretted moving here as if we had stayed in Missouri, we would be flying financially.
"I refuse to go there," he said. "It never crosses my mind. I just don't think that way." And it's true. For our 26 years of marriage, I have yet to hear him bemoan a major life decision we've made. And that's a good thing.
For two years, I struggled after we moved here. I missed so many things about Missouri and my life there. But now? I am content. I love North Carolina. I love my friends, my doctor, my dentist, my home. I love walking outside and gazing up at the mountains that display their majesty twelve months out of the year. I love the milder temperatures of summers and winters. I love the track that is less than a minute from my driveway. I love teaching sabbath school a few times each quarter--just enough to stay involved. I love playing on my iPad in the mancave while Roy watches tv. I love lunch dates with friends that were once "new" but have become "old".
I love new. It's fresh, exciting. But I thrive in old. Old brings comfort and security like a warm blanket on a winter's eve. Old gives you somewhere to hang your hat and kick up your feet.
Old is a beautiful thing.
I peered out the window to read the large print on the box and finally, after squinting and cocking my head a bit because I am 47 and my eyesight isn't what it used to be without a whole lot of help, saw the letters K-O-H-L-S. "My curtains!"
And so, even though it was almost 8:00 and I had yet to step foot in the front door since leaving it at 8:45 that morning, I ripped open the box, pulled out the curtains, and started changing up my living room. Of course, the decorative rod hasn't arrived yet so...it was a bit of a waste as they are just going to have to come down again when the rods get in. But oh well...it was so much fun. I took down the old curtains, windexed the windows and surrounding woodwork (that was embarrassing), used a screw driver and took down all the blinds, vaccuumed, hung the new curtains, moved the furniture around, and then stood back and admired my work.
The entire time I was working, Jace was in his room playing. But about the time I finished, he came out to ask me a question. As his eyes realized that the living was room completely different, he stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, Mom! It's a whole new house!" And then he plopped down on the couch and just looked around, in awe.
"Jace, you need to get ready for bed."
"I don't ever want to leave, Mom. I love new."
Of course, I love "new" too. I mean, what's not to love? New curtains. New cars. New homes. New clothes. New books to read. New big screen tvs. New shoes. New iPads. New furniture. I could go forever. "New" brings with it a whole element of excitement and anticipation and so many good things (especially when "new" is paid for).
But earlier yesterday, Tammy and I had lunch together at our new favorite hangout, Atlanta Bread, and we were discussing the beauty of "old". We've both moved enough in our lifetimes to recognize the reality that it takes a minimum of two years to adjust to a new place. When your home changes color, you are faced with new friends, a new doctor, a new hair stylist, a new church, a new address, a new grocery store, a new school for the kids, new everything.
And suddenly, the fascination with new flies right out the window. Every time I move I go through a period of anguish, missing the old. I second-guess our decision, longing for yesterday. But not Roy. He is straight ahead, plowing through, never looking back. I admire that.
Since we;ve moved here, we have struggled financially for the longest period of time in our married life than I can remember. It's been difficult having two kids in academy or college and one in elementary school and yet my salary is a pittance. When we took the job, it was with the understanding that something would work out for me soon though certainly no promises were made. But four years later, here we are: I am still part-time. And so, I asked Roy if he ever regretted moving here as if we had stayed in Missouri, we would be flying financially.
"I refuse to go there," he said. "It never crosses my mind. I just don't think that way." And it's true. For our 26 years of marriage, I have yet to hear him bemoan a major life decision we've made. And that's a good thing.
For two years, I struggled after we moved here. I missed so many things about Missouri and my life there. But now? I am content. I love North Carolina. I love my friends, my doctor, my dentist, my home. I love walking outside and gazing up at the mountains that display their majesty twelve months out of the year. I love the milder temperatures of summers and winters. I love the track that is less than a minute from my driveway. I love teaching sabbath school a few times each quarter--just enough to stay involved. I love playing on my iPad in the mancave while Roy watches tv. I love lunch dates with friends that were once "new" but have become "old".
I love new. It's fresh, exciting. But I thrive in old. Old brings comfort and security like a warm blanket on a winter's eve. Old gives you somewhere to hang your hat and kick up your feet.
Old is a beautiful thing.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
I've Lost My Head
Not even kidding: It's snowing this morning. APCS has a two hour delay.
It's a few days from being April 1.
Yesterday was beautiful outside, the sun brilliant. I would never have guessed that I would wake up to a snowy world of white. But that's okay...I'm not going to complain. Today is going to be a good day.
Lately I've become really forgetful. It's embarrassing. I feel like that Shel Silverstein poem where the headless character is proclaiming that he's lost his head and doesn't know where to find it. And so, he decides, he will just sit on this rock and rest awhile. The rock, of course, is his head.
That's me.
Yesterday was Pathfinders. For some reason, I have the absolutely worst time remembering Pathfinders every evening. I would like to be able to depend on Jace to remember...but that is clearly never going to happen. He has missed so many meetings simply because we don't remember to take him. In fact, a couple of weeks ago he missed the meeting because we forgot and was banned from a weekend trip to Nosoca. (It's a requirement that, to attend a trip, you must attend the meeting prior to the trip.) And so, Jace and I determined that we would make a diligent effort to remember every meeting from then on.
So yesterday morning we talked about it. Hey, Mom! Don't forget I have Pathfinders this evening! I told him I remembered too! Go us!!
And then my day turned into overdrive. Savana was supposed to leave for Southern at 6:30 that morning and so when I went into her room to check on her, she lay on the floor in front of her open suitcase, surrounded by folded clothes and other items that were waiting for her to pack them. She was miserable. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't talk; she could barely open her eyes. So I got her some hot tea, gave her motrin and Mucinex, and we waited it out. I called her professor at Southern to explain that this girl was so sick--definitely too sick to drive. Two hours later she was still absolutely miserable.
About the time I needed to teach my freshmen, we decided to take her to Urgent Care and so I spent the afternoon at a doctor's office. After the diagnosis of a throat infection (who gets a throat infection??), we headed to Rite Aid for antibiotic and then home where I practically shoved her out the door while we rounded the corner so I could go into Asheville and get a professional outfit for work. (That's another story for another day. But suffice it to say...I didn't have a choice.)
So by the time I was finally home, my mind was whirling from the day's activities: I hope Savana doesn't have pneumonia afterall; poor Kathy--I hope she survived teaching my freshmen; I wonder if that suit I bought actually looks good--why don't I have a fashion sense!; I should be helping Tammy and Beth and Amy fix up the alumni room--ggrr; ...and on and on and on.
At 7:00, Tammy pulled up and I whisked out the door to walk three miles with her and Macy, her gorgeous golden retriever (honestly the most beautiful retriever in the whole wide world). I am so happy that we can resume this daily treat when the weather is nice. We cover all topics as we zoom around the track and I always come home feeling refreshed in more ways than one.
And so, a little before 8:00, she dropped me off at the house and I waved goodbye as she drove away, all smiles. See you tomorrow! Thanks for that--so much fun!!
And then? I saw Jace.
Mom! We forgot again! We forgot about Pathfinders!
Kill. Me. Now.
All feelings of happiness flew right outta my head. What is wrong with me??
I'm not exactly sure how to solve this dilemma. I tried creating an event on my phone calendar but that has yet to work effectively (another long story). Clearly remembering in the morning isn't good enough: I need to remember in the evening!
And so, here is to another week. Here's to remembering every single day that Pathfinders is on Monday evenings...here's to figuring out what I can do to jog my memory at the right time; here's to a new start; here's to a dilemma I am absolutely going to conquer. Here's to good friends that are there when you need them. (Hey, Tammy? Could you remind me from now on that I need to get Jace to Pathfinders on Monday evenings?)
Cheers!
It's a few days from being April 1.
Yesterday was beautiful outside, the sun brilliant. I would never have guessed that I would wake up to a snowy world of white. But that's okay...I'm not going to complain. Today is going to be a good day.
Lately I've become really forgetful. It's embarrassing. I feel like that Shel Silverstein poem where the headless character is proclaiming that he's lost his head and doesn't know where to find it. And so, he decides, he will just sit on this rock and rest awhile. The rock, of course, is his head.
That's me.
Yesterday was Pathfinders. For some reason, I have the absolutely worst time remembering Pathfinders every evening. I would like to be able to depend on Jace to remember...but that is clearly never going to happen. He has missed so many meetings simply because we don't remember to take him. In fact, a couple of weeks ago he missed the meeting because we forgot and was banned from a weekend trip to Nosoca. (It's a requirement that, to attend a trip, you must attend the meeting prior to the trip.) And so, Jace and I determined that we would make a diligent effort to remember every meeting from then on.
So yesterday morning we talked about it. Hey, Mom! Don't forget I have Pathfinders this evening! I told him I remembered too! Go us!!
And then my day turned into overdrive. Savana was supposed to leave for Southern at 6:30 that morning and so when I went into her room to check on her, she lay on the floor in front of her open suitcase, surrounded by folded clothes and other items that were waiting for her to pack them. She was miserable. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't talk; she could barely open her eyes. So I got her some hot tea, gave her motrin and Mucinex, and we waited it out. I called her professor at Southern to explain that this girl was so sick--definitely too sick to drive. Two hours later she was still absolutely miserable.
About the time I needed to teach my freshmen, we decided to take her to Urgent Care and so I spent the afternoon at a doctor's office. After the diagnosis of a throat infection (who gets a throat infection??), we headed to Rite Aid for antibiotic and then home where I practically shoved her out the door while we rounded the corner so I could go into Asheville and get a professional outfit for work. (That's another story for another day. But suffice it to say...I didn't have a choice.)
So by the time I was finally home, my mind was whirling from the day's activities: I hope Savana doesn't have pneumonia afterall; poor Kathy--I hope she survived teaching my freshmen; I wonder if that suit I bought actually looks good--why don't I have a fashion sense!; I should be helping Tammy and Beth and Amy fix up the alumni room--ggrr; ...and on and on and on.
At 7:00, Tammy pulled up and I whisked out the door to walk three miles with her and Macy, her gorgeous golden retriever (honestly the most beautiful retriever in the whole wide world). I am so happy that we can resume this daily treat when the weather is nice. We cover all topics as we zoom around the track and I always come home feeling refreshed in more ways than one.
And so, a little before 8:00, she dropped me off at the house and I waved goodbye as she drove away, all smiles. See you tomorrow! Thanks for that--so much fun!!
And then? I saw Jace.
Mom! We forgot again! We forgot about Pathfinders!
Kill. Me. Now.
All feelings of happiness flew right outta my head. What is wrong with me??
I'm not exactly sure how to solve this dilemma. I tried creating an event on my phone calendar but that has yet to work effectively (another long story). Clearly remembering in the morning isn't good enough: I need to remember in the evening!
And so, here is to another week. Here's to remembering every single day that Pathfinders is on Monday evenings...here's to figuring out what I can do to jog my memory at the right time; here's to a new start; here's to a dilemma I am absolutely going to conquer. Here's to good friends that are there when you need them. (Hey, Tammy? Could you remind me from now on that I need to get Jace to Pathfinders on Monday evenings?)
Cheers!
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Embracing You
I am going to redo my living room. I'm so excited to get started as it is in big need of a makeover. I checked out televisions yesterday at Sam's Club and found a 42" at a reasonable price. New blinds, new curtains, new pillows coming in; the big entertainment center going out. I am hoping Roy will build a mantle for the "hearth" (not sure what to call it) that is simply bricks currently. And last of all, I want to replace the gas stove that hasn't worked since we moved in with an electric stove of some sort that will create a homey ambiance.
I am ready to do it today.
That's the way I operate. I put things on the back burner for an eternity...and then suddenly I wake up and have zero tolerance for enduring any longer. For example, I hate shopping for clothes. It's rare for me to go to the mall or spend a day browsing through little shops. As a result, my wardrobe gets rather bleak. I have lofty dreams of buying a little here, a little there: a cute scarf one week, a whimsical blouse the next. But I don't. And then? One day I wake up and realize I look like I walked out of the '80's! And so off I go on a shopping spree, trying desperately to purchase a wardrobe rather than simply an item or two.
It is this sort of thinking that drives me a little crazy about myself but...I'm learning to accept those quirky things that make us unique, I suppose. I used to fight it, wish to be different. But now? I'm trying to simply embrace who I am and let all those expectations to be a different way...go.
Of course, that doesn't mean that I should forget trying to improve. This whole clothes-buying thing wreaks havoc on the budget...which is why I procrastinate far beyond a reasonable amount of time. (And I'm pretty much there now--I have practically nothing to wear.) But I'm wrestling with the idea of simply accepting that I don't like the mall. I'm not a shopper so why pretend.
But there are other things that make me sigh where I am concerned. Recently, Laurie Worth taught me how to knit a bag. It's a really cute little bag that can be used for a variety of things. And so I picked out a pastel solid green yarn. But when I got to Laurie's house, she happened to have the matching yarn that has a blend of pastel colors, and she offered for me to use it for the sides of the bag to bring it some variety. I readily took her up on her generous offer. So yesterday, Savana so the bag and said, "That looks like you" (...meaning the color choice). My first thought was to be taken back, as though that was an insult and she didn't like my color choice. It is a little too pastel--almost like a baby blanket. I toyed with the idea of being offended for just a split second and then? I thought...Actually, it does look like me...and that's okay.
Before, I would have wrestled with ...I should have chosen a different color. Or Why didn't I get someone to help me choose the right color for this bag? But I have been reading a lot lately about how we need to figure out who we are, what makes us tick, what we love...and then embrace it.
And so...I'm trying that on for size. I'm trying to simply accept that I don't like ruffles. I prefer quiet evenings at home with my iPad to parties. I crave stillness over activity.
I remember when I was in high school--a senior--that I had to go to the grocery store and pick up my friend Pam from work and bring her back to my house as she was living with us at the time. When she got in the car, she laughed uproariously. "What are you listening to?" she asked, quickly reaching over and changing the channel. Because...I was listening to classical music. It soothed my 18 year old soul.
I was embarrassed. And so when she traded in my station for a station that played rock, I said nothing. I didn't stand up for my preference even though it was my car. I mean seriously. What 18 year old kid listens to classical? In my day, it was unheard of within my group of friends. And so, when she laughed at me, I felt embarrassed, ashamed even. And so I said nothing but wondered on the inside why I had to be so weird.
A have a temporary part-time job these days working in an office at Foster church for a nonprofit organization organizing a 5K that is happening on April 6. About three weeks ago, my coworker, Sherri, resigned out of the blue. I really like Sherri. She is so sweet, so kind, so easy to talk to. And so when she told me that Monday that this was going to be her last week, I was taken back. How will I handle coming into an empty office each day? I'm going to cave with loneliness! And when I hugged her goodbye that Friday, I turned my face to hide the tears.
And then I went to work the next week, knowing it would just be me...and I came alive. I worked tirelessly the entire day, getting more accomplished than I ever had when Sherri was there. And suddenly I realized: I love working by myself.
Who knew?
I never realized that about myself! I have always been surrounded by kids and other teachers in the workplace. I've never had the opportunity to work in a quiet office where the only noise is the hum of the heater and the occasional horn from traffic outside my window. It's blissful actually. It's just my style.
And so...I am going to redo my living room. I am going to find some wispy curtains that hang to the floor. I am going to peruse Pinterest for ideas that reflect what I like. I am going to take my time and relish creating a room that reflects who I am as a person; we we are as a family.
And I am going to move forward with confidence, embracing.
I am ready to do it today.
That's the way I operate. I put things on the back burner for an eternity...and then suddenly I wake up and have zero tolerance for enduring any longer. For example, I hate shopping for clothes. It's rare for me to go to the mall or spend a day browsing through little shops. As a result, my wardrobe gets rather bleak. I have lofty dreams of buying a little here, a little there: a cute scarf one week, a whimsical blouse the next. But I don't. And then? One day I wake up and realize I look like I walked out of the '80's! And so off I go on a shopping spree, trying desperately to purchase a wardrobe rather than simply an item or two.
It is this sort of thinking that drives me a little crazy about myself but...I'm learning to accept those quirky things that make us unique, I suppose. I used to fight it, wish to be different. But now? I'm trying to simply embrace who I am and let all those expectations to be a different way...go.
Of course, that doesn't mean that I should forget trying to improve. This whole clothes-buying thing wreaks havoc on the budget...which is why I procrastinate far beyond a reasonable amount of time. (And I'm pretty much there now--I have practically nothing to wear.) But I'm wrestling with the idea of simply accepting that I don't like the mall. I'm not a shopper so why pretend.
But there are other things that make me sigh where I am concerned. Recently, Laurie Worth taught me how to knit a bag. It's a really cute little bag that can be used for a variety of things. And so I picked out a pastel solid green yarn. But when I got to Laurie's house, she happened to have the matching yarn that has a blend of pastel colors, and she offered for me to use it for the sides of the bag to bring it some variety. I readily took her up on her generous offer. So yesterday, Savana so the bag and said, "That looks like you" (...meaning the color choice). My first thought was to be taken back, as though that was an insult and she didn't like my color choice. It is a little too pastel--almost like a baby blanket. I toyed with the idea of being offended for just a split second and then? I thought...Actually, it does look like me...and that's okay.
Before, I would have wrestled with ...I should have chosen a different color. Or Why didn't I get someone to help me choose the right color for this bag? But I have been reading a lot lately about how we need to figure out who we are, what makes us tick, what we love...and then embrace it.
And so...I'm trying that on for size. I'm trying to simply accept that I don't like ruffles. I prefer quiet evenings at home with my iPad to parties. I crave stillness over activity.
I remember when I was in high school--a senior--that I had to go to the grocery store and pick up my friend Pam from work and bring her back to my house as she was living with us at the time. When she got in the car, she laughed uproariously. "What are you listening to?" she asked, quickly reaching over and changing the channel. Because...I was listening to classical music. It soothed my 18 year old soul.
I was embarrassed. And so when she traded in my station for a station that played rock, I said nothing. I didn't stand up for my preference even though it was my car. I mean seriously. What 18 year old kid listens to classical? In my day, it was unheard of within my group of friends. And so, when she laughed at me, I felt embarrassed, ashamed even. And so I said nothing but wondered on the inside why I had to be so weird.
A have a temporary part-time job these days working in an office at Foster church for a nonprofit organization organizing a 5K that is happening on April 6. About three weeks ago, my coworker, Sherri, resigned out of the blue. I really like Sherri. She is so sweet, so kind, so easy to talk to. And so when she told me that Monday that this was going to be her last week, I was taken back. How will I handle coming into an empty office each day? I'm going to cave with loneliness! And when I hugged her goodbye that Friday, I turned my face to hide the tears.
And then I went to work the next week, knowing it would just be me...and I came alive. I worked tirelessly the entire day, getting more accomplished than I ever had when Sherri was there. And suddenly I realized: I love working by myself.
Who knew?
I never realized that about myself! I have always been surrounded by kids and other teachers in the workplace. I've never had the opportunity to work in a quiet office where the only noise is the hum of the heater and the occasional horn from traffic outside my window. It's blissful actually. It's just my style.
And so...I am going to redo my living room. I am going to find some wispy curtains that hang to the floor. I am going to peruse Pinterest for ideas that reflect what I like. I am going to take my time and relish creating a room that reflects who I am as a person; we we are as a family.
And I am going to move forward with confidence, embracing.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
When No One is Watching
Yesterday I gave my students about thirty minutes to work on assignments that are due Friday. Typically I don't give a lot of time for that in class, but I was feeling generous and so...I did. And while they all worked so studiously, I pulled a desk from out of place in the row where it belonged so that I was facing them and that's how I spent the last thirty minutes of the class period--sitting in my out of place desk, reading and grading and such. And then, when class was over, I picked up my piles of stuff and started to head out of the classroom. And then I realized...I hadn't put the desk back where it belonged.
I stopped for a second, debating. Should I put everything down? Move it back? And then I shrugged: eh. Somebody else will move it. It's not that big of a deal.
We share classrooms and so two other teachers occupy the room before I do each day. And really...what's one desk? I would have to put everything down in order to move it...and I had to go to the bathroom! (I always have to go to the bathroom.)
So, as I was leaving the classroom, I realized that one of my precious cherub students left a mangled pen on his desk. As I said before, my hands were full with my iPad, notebook that I use for teaching, graded quizzes and the like, and so, thinking of our poor cleaning lady who works tirelessly to keep the ad building clean, I quickly put everything down in order to pick up the pen and throw it away. But then, as I grabbed the pen, I realized that he had torn the plastic off of the pen and strewn it all over the floor. And so, I bent down and picked up the little red plastic pieces as well, muttering to myself about how irresponsible and careless some students are. Genuinely annoyed.
Once again, I picked up my piles of stuff and took a quick glance around the classroom...and once again noticed that out of place desk.
And it struck me: I'm no different.
And so once again I dropped all of my stuff and moved the desk back where it belonged.
It's funny to me how the very things we criticize in others we are guilty of ourselves. We are reading in Freshman English a book called A Thousand Shall Fall about an Adventist family during WWII in Hungary (I think it's Hungary, anyway). The thing that strikes me about this book is how this little family lived with such principle. They strove to do right no matter the cost--even in the little things. The wife refused to lie to the Gestapo, endangering the lives of her children and herself. They were true to their convictions and counted living for principle worth the cost.
I'm inspired.
As we discuss this book, my students and I, they, too, are struck with how amazing this family is. Most of them readily admit they wouldn't stand firm--some even stating that if they were offered food and a vacation for joining the Nazi party, they'd sign up without a second thought.
Of course, one never knows how one would respond under such circumstances until faced with them. But I can't help but wonder...how all the conveniences of our modern culture made us lazy with principle? Are we all victims of a careless attitude?
One of the stories in the book is how a schoolteacher wouldn't allow the children to stop going to school on Saturday. The mom prayed fervently about this as she knew this choice could mean death for all of them. But out of the blue the teacher was called to join the army and he was sent to the front lines where he was killed. I asked the students: Did God answer the prayer by letting the teacher be killed? This started a riot in both classes as there were two camps, and both camps were adamant their side was correct.
Again, I stood amazed. Who is this God that some of us serve?
It seems our lives are the product of our concepts. We live out our belief system. Our carelessness reflects our dedication to principle; the way we treat others reflects our story of who God is. It's a sobering thought and leaves me wondering...where do I stand? Have I become so consumed with the busy-ness of my own life that I've lost sight of who you are when no one is watching is who you really are...?
My concept of God is certainly not up for debate. I'm not worried about that in this blog (that's fodder for another blog). But yesterday? I was inspired to care more about the little things, to live my life with more principle...especially when no one is watching.
I stopped for a second, debating. Should I put everything down? Move it back? And then I shrugged: eh. Somebody else will move it. It's not that big of a deal.
We share classrooms and so two other teachers occupy the room before I do each day. And really...what's one desk? I would have to put everything down in order to move it...and I had to go to the bathroom! (I always have to go to the bathroom.)
So, as I was leaving the classroom, I realized that one of my precious cherub students left a mangled pen on his desk. As I said before, my hands were full with my iPad, notebook that I use for teaching, graded quizzes and the like, and so, thinking of our poor cleaning lady who works tirelessly to keep the ad building clean, I quickly put everything down in order to pick up the pen and throw it away. But then, as I grabbed the pen, I realized that he had torn the plastic off of the pen and strewn it all over the floor. And so, I bent down and picked up the little red plastic pieces as well, muttering to myself about how irresponsible and careless some students are. Genuinely annoyed.
Once again, I picked up my piles of stuff and took a quick glance around the classroom...and once again noticed that out of place desk.
And it struck me: I'm no different.
And so once again I dropped all of my stuff and moved the desk back where it belonged.
It's funny to me how the very things we criticize in others we are guilty of ourselves. We are reading in Freshman English a book called A Thousand Shall Fall about an Adventist family during WWII in Hungary (I think it's Hungary, anyway). The thing that strikes me about this book is how this little family lived with such principle. They strove to do right no matter the cost--even in the little things. The wife refused to lie to the Gestapo, endangering the lives of her children and herself. They were true to their convictions and counted living for principle worth the cost.
I'm inspired.
As we discuss this book, my students and I, they, too, are struck with how amazing this family is. Most of them readily admit they wouldn't stand firm--some even stating that if they were offered food and a vacation for joining the Nazi party, they'd sign up without a second thought.
Of course, one never knows how one would respond under such circumstances until faced with them. But I can't help but wonder...how all the conveniences of our modern culture made us lazy with principle? Are we all victims of a careless attitude?
One of the stories in the book is how a schoolteacher wouldn't allow the children to stop going to school on Saturday. The mom prayed fervently about this as she knew this choice could mean death for all of them. But out of the blue the teacher was called to join the army and he was sent to the front lines where he was killed. I asked the students: Did God answer the prayer by letting the teacher be killed? This started a riot in both classes as there were two camps, and both camps were adamant their side was correct.
Again, I stood amazed. Who is this God that some of us serve?
It seems our lives are the product of our concepts. We live out our belief system. Our carelessness reflects our dedication to principle; the way we treat others reflects our story of who God is. It's a sobering thought and leaves me wondering...where do I stand? Have I become so consumed with the busy-ness of my own life that I've lost sight of who you are when no one is watching is who you really are...?
My concept of God is certainly not up for debate. I'm not worried about that in this blog (that's fodder for another blog). But yesterday? I was inspired to care more about the little things, to live my life with more principle...especially when no one is watching.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Ready for a New Day
It is snowing outside. I'm not even kidding. Big fat flakes are falling from a perfectly dark sky.
It's the middle of March in North Carolina.
Jace's school has a two hour delay even though the roads are perfectly clear. But that's okay. It means I will have an easy morning--no rushing to make Jace breakfast or scramble out the door, racing the car up the hill because it's 8:14 and we're almost late (even though we live less than two blocks away).
Maybe by this afternoon spring time will remember that it is, in fact, time for spring and the sun will pop out once again. Maybe, just maybe, we can bask in warmer temperatures by noon time. Apparently, North Carolina weather is bi-polar. Yesterday morning was warm and sunny: No need to wear a jacket to school, Jace! It feels amazing outside! But by the time I got home from school yesterday afternoon, the wind was biting. A bit later, we could have lit a fire in the fireplace (if we had one).
And yet...as I walked outside to head to the cafeteria for supper (Roy has supper duty on Wednesdays), I glanced up at the two trees in our yard and realized for the first time that they have buds on them. They are those trees that burst with pink for a few short days before blooming into leaves. They are stunning. They make me...stop. It doesn't matter what I'm stressed about or thinking about...every time I step out into my yard, I stop in wonder.
And so, I am hopeful that this burst of winter we are currently experiencing will be a mere flirtation. But frankly, I'm not interested. Winter has had its day and now? It's time to move on.
Just the other day, Roy and I were talking about how life is made up of mountains and valleys. This year, in some respects, has been a valley. I can honestly say it's been one of our most difficult years in academy--for reasons that I won't proclaim on a public blog. And maybe it's just us. Maybe it's just growing pains. But... regardless, there have been times we've struggled to see sunlight.
But yesterday, for the first time in months, we both felt relief. We have so many blessings to relish. Savana has been accepted into Western Carolina's Masters program for this coming fall--a competitive program that is offered at a reasonable cost. Darian will most likely be heading to Door County to work with a girl whom we dearly love--Candace--where she will make exceptionally good money. Jace is thriving and loving his life and friends. I am enjoying my jobs and staying busy, feeling productive. And Roy has new goals for next year that bring vision to his program.
All good things.
And so, we are both ready for some sunlight, brighter days. We are both ready to look forward and view life from the mountaintop.
It has stopped snowing now and it appears to be still outside. Jace is hanging beside me as Piper sleeps next to him. I can hear Roy upstairs as he prepares for his day. Life has begun. Spring is in the air...and we are all ready for a brand new day.
It's the middle of March in North Carolina.
Jace's school has a two hour delay even though the roads are perfectly clear. But that's okay. It means I will have an easy morning--no rushing to make Jace breakfast or scramble out the door, racing the car up the hill because it's 8:14 and we're almost late (even though we live less than two blocks away).
Maybe by this afternoon spring time will remember that it is, in fact, time for spring and the sun will pop out once again. Maybe, just maybe, we can bask in warmer temperatures by noon time. Apparently, North Carolina weather is bi-polar. Yesterday morning was warm and sunny: No need to wear a jacket to school, Jace! It feels amazing outside! But by the time I got home from school yesterday afternoon, the wind was biting. A bit later, we could have lit a fire in the fireplace (if we had one).
And yet...as I walked outside to head to the cafeteria for supper (Roy has supper duty on Wednesdays), I glanced up at the two trees in our yard and realized for the first time that they have buds on them. They are those trees that burst with pink for a few short days before blooming into leaves. They are stunning. They make me...stop. It doesn't matter what I'm stressed about or thinking about...every time I step out into my yard, I stop in wonder.
And so, I am hopeful that this burst of winter we are currently experiencing will be a mere flirtation. But frankly, I'm not interested. Winter has had its day and now? It's time to move on.
Just the other day, Roy and I were talking about how life is made up of mountains and valleys. This year, in some respects, has been a valley. I can honestly say it's been one of our most difficult years in academy--for reasons that I won't proclaim on a public blog. And maybe it's just us. Maybe it's just growing pains. But... regardless, there have been times we've struggled to see sunlight.
But yesterday, for the first time in months, we both felt relief. We have so many blessings to relish. Savana has been accepted into Western Carolina's Masters program for this coming fall--a competitive program that is offered at a reasonable cost. Darian will most likely be heading to Door County to work with a girl whom we dearly love--Candace--where she will make exceptionally good money. Jace is thriving and loving his life and friends. I am enjoying my jobs and staying busy, feeling productive. And Roy has new goals for next year that bring vision to his program.
All good things.
And so, we are both ready for some sunlight, brighter days. We are both ready to look forward and view life from the mountaintop.
It has stopped snowing now and it appears to be still outside. Jace is hanging beside me as Piper sleeps next to him. I can hear Roy upstairs as he prepares for his day. Life has begun. Spring is in the air...and we are all ready for a brand new day.
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