The New Proverbs 31 Woman...

So…yeah, I don’t love the Proverbs 31 woman.  Here’s my beef with her: 

I don’t measure up.

Not even close.  Not even a little bit. Not even at all (yes, that should be read like Julia Stiles from 10 Things I Hate About You). 

So naturally, instead of trying to better myself and make goals to be more like her, I did what any stubborn, insecure girl would do- I resented her.  

My sour attitude stems from numerous superficial readings of this chapter and from overused motivational phrases often heard at Christian women conferences and Bible studies.  And  because I had not made concerted effort to understand the history or context of this chapter, I had missed a key element in understanding her.  Instead, I had built the Proverbs 31 woman up to be a cruel to-do list, an unkind reminder that I am not as good as I think I am, and that I don’t in fact, have it all together. 

Round #1:

Her: “She gets up while it is still dark; she provides food for her family and portions for her serving girls” (Proverbs 31:15)

Me: I do wake before Katie, but not by choice.  My job demands it.  I have yet to make her breakfast, and I doubt that it’s in her near future.  I think I may have folded her laundry once, but my motive was entirely selfish.  I needed the dryer.  I was not going to be “that girl” who just dumps someone’s laundry on the floor.  I mean, I’m not heartless, just a little selfish.  

Winner:  Proverbs 31 woman

Round #2:

Her: "She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard." (31:16) In other words, she is a financial powerhouse. 

Me:  I don’t understand money.  Don’t ask me about my retirement plan or the interest rate on my house or even how much money I have in my bank account.  Your guess is as good as mine.

Winner: Proverbs 31 woman.

Round #3:

Her:  “Her arms are strong for her tasks” (31:17)

Me:  I can’t do a pull-up to save my life, and I struggle with downward dog during yoga.  I even cringe to think that I may have contracted what has plagued teachers for generations- the dreadful “teacher arms.”  You know exactly what I’m talking about, those pesky, flabby things that jiggle when teachers write on white boards.  Gag.

Winner:   Do I even need to say it? 

But here’s what dawned on me yesterday:  I was missing the boat.  The woman I had fabricated in my mind was not the Proverbs 31 woman.  I had dissected her so much that I made her into something fake, something plastic, something false. I had turned her into the unattainable, flawless woman on the cover of a magazine, rather than into what she was intended to be, a woman full of grace, love, and humility. 

But yesterday, I learned something that rocked my world:

The original Proverbs 31 was offered as a Jewish poem given by a husband to his a wife to offer her praises in the ordinary.  It was a love song, not a critique.  It was an attempt to praise women as the beautiful, incredible creatures that God created them to be, not to belittle them for their shortcomings.

Well, hey, that’s something I can get on-board with.

So I did. I began examining the amazing women God has put before me and was amazed to find a slew of Proverbs 31 women in my life. 

To me, the Proverbs 31 woman:

• is the woman who walks in the frigid cold on a murky street in Pasadena to accompany her tender hearted niece back to a trailer. She is also the woman who continues to stand outside in the cold as the aforementioned niece pours her heart out, seeking affirmation and wisdom.
• is the woman who signs up for a 5k at the young age of 63 to better her health and her life and to make her daughter incredibly proud.
• is the one who answers the phone when her neurotic friend calls in a helpless mess.  She offers grace and insight, sprinkled with a little humor and sarcasm to aid in her friend’s distress.
• is the one who sends the text, “I can’t promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won’t have to face them alone,” at a time when her friend has a big life decision to make.
• is the one who tells her mildly unhygienic and self-conscious cousin that she’s beautiful, even though the greasy hair and grungy sweatshirt would suggest otherwise.

These women aren’t curing cancer, or running multi-million dollar philanthropies, or contributing to Martha Stewart’s magazine.  They aren’t on the cover of Forbes or featured on a Dateline NBC special.  No, they are ordinary women who exude valor.  And they are all showing me that God’s grace and love makes them beautiful and lovely inside and out.

So, instead of turning the Proverbs 31 woman into another mirror to reflect our inadequacies, I chose to see her many facets in the captivating women that surround me.  And maybe, just maybe, I’ll even begin to see those facets in myself.

Winner:  ?

A Lesson from a Horse

I really struggle with this word.

A close examination of my past mistakes and the subsequent hurts would affirm that extending and receiving trust is a challenge for me.  Instead, I closely guard my heart, locking it tightly away, terrified to let the world see what I have to offer.  It's safer this way.  It's cautious.  It's also completely paralyzing.

Yesterday, my uncle and cousins, who I might add are some of the most selfless, trusting people I ever met, took me horseback riding on the Californian coast.  Go ahead.  Let the pangs of jealousy subside.  I am fully aware of how ethereal and perfect yesterday was, and it's not often I'm graced with days like that.

The poetic nature of my day was made complete with the crisp air enveloping me as I climbed aboard Tahoe, my mildly ornery partner for the afternoon.  The halter (yes, I looked up this term), was bothering her, and it was obvious that she didn't enjoy me controlling her direction or speed.

And then it hit me.

I am Tahoe.  Giving someone the reins to my life, trusting that their master plan is better than my own, is just too hard.  I want to choose whether I turn right and run straight into the breakers, diving head first into the icy water, or turn left and head to the highest sand dune.  I want to choose my speed, dictating when and where I'll end up.

But it's not up to me.

I do not hold the reins.  It's not why I was created.  I was created with the ultimate purpose to hand over the reins of my life and my heart to my Father, who loves me beyond measure.  God, not limited by time or distance, sees the scope of my life.  His knowledge and His promise to "prosper me, not harm me," has me going in directions and speeds that make me uncomfortable.

Like Tahoe, sometimes I need a swift kick in the side to get me going.  Whether it's a sudden heart break, a a job change, or a sharp comment by a friend, these life events shift my perspective, changing my course all together.  I think God uses these to not so gentle reminders to point out that my life IS NOT ABOUT ME.

Like Tahoe, sometimes God has to say "whoa," prompting me to slow down.  Sometimes my exuberance exceeds me, causing me to be rash and compulsive.  God often needs to remind me that a slow trot is what He desires for my life pace.  His gentle reminder is, "You'll get there soon, Sweetie. Don't rush."

Like Tahoe, when I trust the one holding the reins, I get to see and experience life to the fullest measure. She and I took a little detour through the sand dunes, following a small path that previous riders had mapped out.  And because I trusted that the windy path would eventually bring me back to the ocean's shore, I was granted with the most poetic scenery, spurring a restful reprieve from the chaos of my world.  The hills, the sand, the protruding bushes, the picturesque cloud cover were enough to make me feel like I was living in a movie.  To say it simply, it was a writer's dream.

When we finally circled back, the ocean waves growing more pronounced with every step, I was overwhelmed at God's creation and His plan for me to experience it.

I had trusted and was not disappointed.

Joshua 21:45 says, "Not one of the good promises which the LORD had made to the house of Israel failed; all came to pass."

So while, I will likely continue to struggle with trust issues, trusting the one who holds the reins to my life, and more importantly my heart, should not be so challenging.

New Definition of Working Late

It's 4 am on a Friday evening, and I am still at work.  

Some would call that crazy, but I call it perfect.  I am not droning over a stark white computer screen or answering phone calls from around the globe.  I am not working late on a report to meet an unreasonable deadline.  For any of that, being at work until 4 am would be crazy.

No, I am still at work staring out into the sea of brightly colored blankets that conceal 40 sleeping middle school girls.

Like I said, perfect. 

Most of the inspiration for my writing comes when my heart is heavy, when my emotions have become so overwhelming that I feel I'm on the verge of collapsing.  Fortunately, this is not one of those blog posts. 

No, tonight I am overwhelmed with gratefulness that I'm still at school at this ghastly hour.   In fact, there is no where in the world I would rather be than sitting here, loving the girls in front of me.

With the help of some of the greatest friends I could ask for, I was blessed to serve 44 middle school girls by offering them a night away from the chaos and the disappointment in their lives.  For one night, these girls could trade make-up, drama, and boys for laughter, whimsy, and musical chairs.  They traded their too-tight shirts and eye rolls for pajama bottoms and giggles.  We laughed over my awkward attempts at Zumba, the 6 inch tear in my pants, and my off-key singing to One Direction.  And these girls made gingerbread houses.  Can I just tell you, only a handful of them had ever made one before.  Only a handful. 

***

I am so incredibly humbled that God would call me to "bump" into these young women.  Really? Me? Why?  It's so hard for me to grasp and accept the thought that when He created me, He knew I would one day run into each of these ladies to play a role only He could have designed.  

I wish with my whole being that these girls would see themselves the way I see them- as captivating and remarkable.  I wish they knew how much my heart swells with pride when I see them invite a girl with special needs to play hide and seek or when they give up their seat in musical chairs to let their friend continue playing.  These girls have no idea how much they are capable of or how they are impacting the people around them, namely me. 

And that's when it hit me.  They way I look at these girls is only a glimmer of how God sees me.  He sees my mess ups.  He sees when I roll my eyes or make a snide comment under my breath.  He sees that deep down, I am just an insecure middle girl desperate to belong.  

And yet, He still loves me.  

And because He loved me, the next time an 8th grade girl lies to me or disappoints me, I will continue to love on them.  

Tonight, or I guess this morning, I realize how blessed I am.  God has trusted me with these girls' hearts, and in serving them, I have found so much joy and peace about where my life is heading.  

Again, tonight has been perfect.

Making the Deposits that Matter

This evening, my dear friend prayed that God would "work on detachment with me."

Detachment? Detachment from what? 

I asked her to explain, and with love, she responded that perhaps God was using my current circumstances to reveal my attachment to material things.  

Wait, what?!? My attachment to material things? I'm a teacher.  I'm not exactly living a life of splendor.  I drive a 2001 Honda Civic...or rather, I did up until about 11:30am today.  I'll let you connect the dots as to why today is not my favorite. 

In fact, describing my day as "not my favorite" is an understatement.  

Here's a more accurate description of my day:  Today, I was a tiny dinghy, being pushed and sloshed around like a limp rag doll in the middle of an unforgiving sea.  Today was a day that had me gasping for air, reaching for a life vest that seemed just an inch out of reach, pleading for the peace Paul describes in Phillipians 4:6, the "peace of God, which transcends all understanding."   

And now, my dear friend, a woman I admire and respect, who is constantly challenging me to be more Christ-like, is telling me that she is praying for me to be "detached".  Uh....ok?

Well, truthfully, it didn't take much time or reflection or hours spent staring at my ceiling pondering over this idea, for me to realize that she was absolutely correct.  And with that, I rolled out of bed, put my contacts back in, and began writing.  

Today's debilitating blow is actually not debilitating at all.  In fact, it's liberating and refreshing.  Yes, it's not ideal and will require humility and sacrifice, but it's actually a blessing in disguise.  Today showed me another area I need to give over to God-- my money.

Before today, I hadn't realized that despite my modest salary, I was still falling victim to something that entraps so many of us.  I had been searching for my security and my worth in my bank statements, rather than in my relationship with Jesus.  I had begun to see my life has a series of deposits and withdrawls, instead of as a safe, filled with riches that can't be measured. 

I have a God who loves me.  He doesn't see my financial shortcomings.  Instead, He sees His little girl that He wants to take care of, that He wants to protect. Priceless.

I have a mom who loves me.  She doesn't see my perceived failures.  Instead, she sees her little girl, impacting lives, being used by God to talk about His truth and grace.  She looks at me, with pride in her eyes, at the woman I currently am and the woman I desire to be.  Priceless.

I have deep, lasting friendships that will span decades.  These people don't see what I'm wearing or driving, nor do they care.  Instead, they see my heart, my loyalty, my desire to do good in this world.  They love me exactly the way I am.  Priceless.

***

Today, DID NOT go the way I had planned.

And I am so incredibly thankful for that.  

And... because I'm all about paying it forward, I pray that God will work on detachment with you too.  It's scary.  It's emotional.  But, I promise, it's worth it.

So...You Slipped Up With God? Yeah, Me Too...

This week, my prayer to God was simple. God, can you just show up? Please and thanks. 

Did you catch on that I was detached and annoyed?  Because I was. 

The perfectionist in me, the one who is terrified of being "found" out as a phony, is embarrassed, worried even, to admit that those words were uttered from my mouth only a few short days ago.  

But I post openly about my shortcomings as a follower of Jesus for a reason.  I am realizing  that my exasperated prayer and my vulnerability about sharing it can be used by God for good.    

Romans 8:28 says this, "And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them."

Before I explain the relevance of this verse, let me back up and be painfully transparent about where this prayer came from. 

***

I've been in a rut, probably dated back to when I left Controlled Chaos.  This past year was a whirlwind.  In the past 14 months, I have learned more about God's love for the broken than any 8 week church series could teach.  I took more leaps of faith than I can count, and for a girl who HATES failing and therefore doesn't readily try new things, that was HUGE.  

God and I had never been closer. I had finally figured out this whole "God-thing" I had heard so much about. 

But like an exhausted runner after a marathon, when my time with CC came to a close, I stopped running all together.  I left my community.  I left my girls.  And unintentionally, I left God as well.  

Soon, I became the frustrated, resentful, exhausted person that makes me cringe with disgust.  I had dropped my Jesus ball, and now life was hard.

How had I gone from such a high to such a low...again? Hadn't I learned that I couldn't do life alone?

Guilt and shame from losing touch with God began manifesting themselves on my already weakened heart. 

That is where my desperate prayer came from. It was my last ditch effort to get myself out of the nasty spin cycle I had been having with God. 

***

On Tuesday, I was at Bible study with one of my dearest friends.  I shared vocally, for the first time, that I was struggling with God.  She is one of my closest friends and has seen me through some pretty rough life stages.  She has always stuck around, so I had no reason to think this day would be any different. Yet, admitting to her that God and I were on the down-and-outs, seemed wrong.  

She lovingly received me and my confession and shared that she too, was desperately trying to rectify her relationship with God.

As the week progressed, I heard even more stories about others who felt that God had become distant.

I wasn't alone.  Other people were struggling with their walks with God.  

Why was this news to me? 

Because we're all so terrified of judgment, critique, of being found out as phonies, that we hide the inner-most struggles of our hearts.  Quite frankly, it's absurd!  The one we should be striving to impress already knows the inner-most workings of our hearts.  We can't hide from Him.  He created each of us and knows exactly when and why we'll slip up. And He loves us anyway.    

He doesn't love me because of anything I've done or haven't done, not because I'm amazing or great.  He loves me because He is amazing and great.  

So back to Romans 8:28.  How is God using my slip-up for His good?

Well, so far, I believe two good things have come from it.

First, I needed to reach my valley to realize God's unconditional love for me. Whether I grand slam this life thing or more likely strike out, His love remains. He never gives up on me.  

Second, I realized that God has put people into my life to walk me through the mountains and the valleys.  I can't keep pretending that everything is good, that I'm the girl who has it all figured out.  

Instead, it's imperative that I "own" my laundry list of faults with the people and relationships he has has blessed me with.  After all, it's great practice for confessing my heart to God, inviting Him in to fix  the things only He can.

So yeah... I am admitting I.am.not.perfect.

Instead, I'm perfectly imperfect. 

Where Has All the Joy Gone?

"Joy" has always been one of my favorite words; my affinity towards it being rooted back to my childhood.  One of my best friends in elementary school was named Joy.  Her infectious laughter, her willingness to attempt my careless stunts, her natural athleticism and ease on the soccer field, made her the measuring stick I compared myself to.  Her golden hair, nearly perfect smile, and the fact that all the boys thought she was "the pretty one," didn't hurt either.  Ever since I was eight, I've liked the name, and now more recently, I've loved the word itself.

So this morning, I spent some time in Philippians studying Paul's stance on finding joy in this life.  I was curious to what my Google had to say about joy and, spoiler alert- I was disappointed, albeit not shocked.  Merriam-Webster's definition of "joy" said this:

"Joy is the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires."

:Insert stomach churning noises here: 

I am bothered by this definition for a couple of reasons. I will strategically lay them out in list form for easy reading. You're welcome. 

1) "Joy is the emotion evoked" 

The first part of this definition casts joy as another temporary and fleeting emotion, like anger or frustration.  According to this definition, joy is short-lived.  Furthermore, the word "evoked" implies that I have absolute control on bringing joy into my life, that if I want it hard enough, I can will it into existence.  I am troubled that anyone can rein in joy because I don't want to love a word that seems so circumstantial, so definite in time and scope.  I think the word is too beautiful to be in the same category as the other "feeling nouns". 

2)  "by well-being, success, or good fortune"

This part was difficult to swallow.  It's also why I am so quick to reject this definition of joy.  The joy described here can only be found when life is good, when all the little ducks are lining up nicely.  So what happens when the job falls through? When your life partner suddenly decides you're too hard and walks out?  When your whole world falls apart?  Basically, according to Merriam and Webster, along with financial, relational, and/or emotional stability, you can kiss joy goodbye too.  

Tough to swallow, huh?  

Instead of accepting Merriam-Webster's definition, here's my position on joy, which in all truthfulness, isn't my position at all.  

In Philippians, Paul lovingly thanks the Philippians for their gifts and prayers... all from behind prison walls.  Throughout these four short chapters, his tone is encouraging, loving, and above all else- gracious.  He feels genuinely blessed by the relationships he has cultivated with these people, praising God for their presence in his life.  

There it is... "praising God for their presence."  If we are to celebrate God everyday, we should be celebrating the people he has purposefully placed in our lives.  I believe this mindful appreciation for the people, not the things in our lives, will lead us to this enduring joy we are desperately seeking.  After all, the new iPhone will be replaced, the Uggs will get scuffed, the granite kitchen tile will get chipped (true story).  Joy rooted in things is bound to disappoint or fade.  But finding joy in an 8th grader's smile, or in a coffee date with your very-pregnant friend, or in a perfect goodnight kiss from someone special, well, that joy is not circumstantial.  That joy is lasting and comes from appreciating the people God has blessed you with. 

So why do we, and of course, I'm clearly talking about me, allow the negativity of this world to rob us from finding joy? 

Because it is all around us.  All the time.  Negativity permeates every inch of our lives, making it nearly, and I say "nearly" with intention, impossible to ignore.  Negativity wants to infiltrate the thing that brings us true, unadulterated joy- praising God for His blessings. Joy comes from praising God for the people He has strategically placed in our lives.  It comes from praising Him for loving us enough to send His son to trade our mess for His perfection, for making us pure and beautiful in His eyes.    

Reveling in God's grace and goodness is the key to finding joy. 

If Paul can find joy from behind prison walls, I can surely find joy in my life. 

So, there it is: even after finding my disappointing internet definition of joy, I am still fervently in love with the word.

  

Goodbye Controlled Chaos

It's not a secret, or at least not a well kept one, that I need nudging.  I need to be encouraged to make decisions, and my God strategically placed strong-willed, Type A personalities in my life for that very purpose.  I don't believe in coincidences, so I'm not surprised that the people who have played the biggest roles in my life all have this innate ability to call me out on my crap.

They "see me."  They see the good, the bad, and the ugly.  They know my heart, my ambitious, good intentions.  They see that I'm sensitive, and that I love people almost to a fault.  They recognize that the reason I over-commit and spread myself too thin is because I care about the people in my life and want to make time for them all.  And these wonderful people, who I know are shaking their heads in loving disagreement, know that my previous statement is a little misleading.  The other reason I over-commit is because I have a paralyzing fear of failure, including failing at my relationships.  Instead of being intentional about the relationships I'm cultivating, I earnestly try to develop deep, meaningful relationships with everyone.  Yes, I recognize this is unrealistic, selfish even.  But I'm a perfectionist, and as such, I want to believe I can do anything and everything I put my mind to, including being the best friend, daughter, teacher, and youth group leader I can.  I'm not arrogant enough to think I am succeeding at it, but I certainly try.

The people God purposefully placed in my life "get me". And for reasons I'll never understand, they love me anyway.  

God has used these people to hold me accountable for my decisions and to uplift me when I inevitably make the wrong ones. They remind me that nothing I say or do will separate me from God.  They tell me that they love me even when I'm failing.

And with that, my mom recently told me I was "failing at loving people well."  Ouch. Again, for a self-proclaimed perfectionist who HATES disappointing people, this was brutal to hear. 

But it was true.  I was failing the relationships God had blessed me with.  I was so busy that I didn't have time or energy to pour into the relationships God had truly called me to invest in.  And 5Hour energies and frequent stops at Starbucks were ceasing to have the same impact that they once did. 

My strong-willed, opinionated mother nudged me to take a step back and be more intentional with my time. 

So... it is with a broken heart and an even stronger conviction that I am taking a step back from something that has brought me the greatest joy and passion I have ever known.  

This year with student ministries has shaped me more than any other life event.  Because of Controlled Chaos and the people I have had the privilege to meet there, I know the limitless love of my God.  I am learning to see people the way Jesus sees them, and I'm learning to trust God's plan over mine.  He used this past year to call me back to Him, and for that, I am so grateful.  How is it possible that my broken heart can also be swelling with such joy?   

I said earlier that I need nudging. God is nudging me, nudging me to trust that He has it all figured out.  I'm trusting that when He asked me to step down from youth group, a place that quickly became my home, my family, that He has something even better in store. 

To my beautiful 6th grade girls (although, I guess technically you're in 7th now)-  I love you.  I love your hearts, your energy, your screaming.  I love your smiles, your enthusiasm, your sense of adventure.  I just love you.

But as much as I love you, God loves you even more.  He has such a beautiful plan for each of your lives.  Seek Him. Trust Him. Love Him.  His plan for your life is far better than anything you could imagine for yourself. 

Letter to My 8th Graders...

Here's my feeble attempt to say thank you to the young men and women who unknowingly changed my heart forever- my 8th graders. 

I treasure you.  

I treasure your hearts, your convictions, your sense of self.  I treasure your beauty, your vulnerability, your sense of adventure.  I treasure how you readily opened your hearts to me, inviting me to see the joy, the pain, and the wonder you have from our world.  What I see before me is truly captivating.  

I treasure you.

To my ladies:

Before me, I see a group of young ladies that have affirmed my belief that young women today are growing up strong, confident, and smart.  I look at you, ladies, and see a zest for life that permeates every inch of your being, and I can't help but wish I had known you when I was in 8th grade.  Maybe if I had, your vibrancy would have rubbed off on me, and I wouldn't have felt so insecure with who I was.  Ladies, you have captured my heart.  Don't let anyone tell you that you're not good enough.  You are.  You are valued and loved.  You are beautiful and smart.  I sit here with eager anticipation, waiting to see the women you will become, and yet, I am also content with knowing you just as you are this very moment. 

There are ladies in this room who break my heart, not for anything you have done, but for what the world has done to you.  The world has lied to you.  It has told you that you aren't pretty enough, skinny enough, or valuable enough.  And you believed it.  You swallowed the harsh and bitter lies as truth, and the ramifications are devastating.  I see you making choices that you aren't ready to make.  I see the paths you are taking, the mistakes you are making, and it breaks my heart.  How do you not see what I see? How do you not look in the mirror and see the beauty and wisdom I see?  When I look at the young women you have become, I see tender hearts behind sullen eyes.  I know those eyes. I used to see them in my reflection too.  To you, dear ladies, I reiterate- you are beautiful.  You are captivating.  You are worth it. 

To my gentlemen:

Then, there are my ridiculously hilarious and often inappropriate gentlemen that have unreservedly welcomed me to do life with them the past four years.  I have seen you, gentlemen, transition from young boys, bustling with exuberance and untamed energy, into reflective young men who own your shortcomings and promise to do right the next time.  Some days, you are mature for your years; others, you are still the young boys I knew not long ago.  The only difference is now you look down at me, instead of the other way around.  You, boys, have an unparalleled sense of humor.  I laugh endlessly, all while wishing I could match your humor and wit.  I can't. You are funnier than me.  

You are unashamed of nerding out, you shuffle with the best of them, you let me teach you about crop dusting (potential teacher fail...).  You understand when I am being hard on you, and why I need to pull you into the hallway for "a talk".  You don't like it, I know, but you listen, usually head hung low, and you apologize.  You, gentlemen, have reaffirmed my hope in young men.  I believe wholeheartedly that you will become responsible, wise men that will make this place better.  Actually, I take that back. You already are responsible, wise men making this place better.  Please don't stop.  I anxiously await the day when I get to see you become the honorable husbands, fathers, and leaders our country so desperately needs.

8th Graders: the past four years have been such a privilege for me, an unearned gift, that has forever changed my reality and perception of teaching.  Yes, I teach synonyms and proper spelling and how to find writing topics. Yes, I have taught you to analyze a character's motives, recognize figurative language in texts, and applauded you when you actually finished a book in my class (*cough, Jesus*).  But you have taught me so much more about my profession than any college class or professional development could.  You have taught me to see the students in my class as people first, students second.  You have stories, lives, and pasts that matter.  You have inside jokes with your friends, bad hair days that ruin everything, fights with your best friends that leave you feeling lonely.  You are people, and me trying to teach you a comma rule or the meaning of a hard poem is futile if I don't "see" you first.  Because of you, I am a better teacher and a better person. Words cannot express my gratitude for this.

Never in my life will I get a class like yours, a group of students that I get to travel with for five years straight.  I don't know what it's like to teach and not see your faces looking back at me.  The thought alone make my heart swell with bitter anticipation of next April, when you leave.  I don't know what it's like to start class every August and have to learn 30 new names.  I have always had the pleasure of seeing my favorite faces every August, my kids who are so eager to share their summer stories with me, that not having that is foreign and uncomfortable.

Ladies and Gentlemen, you have set the bar high.  I feel sorry for the next group of kids who must fill your shoes, the shoes that have made a lasting imprint on my heart. 

I Am Who I Am...On His Purpose

Sometimes working in a low-income, urban school district makes me feel like I'm emptying the ocean with an eye dropper.  And just when I feel like I am making gains, filling my cup slowly one drop at a time, someone comes and knocks it over.

I am left staring at my spilled cup and the vast ocean of hurting kids in front of me wondering, What's the point?


Today, God graciously and probably humorously answered me.

The point is, He loves these kids.  And I was purposely created to love them too.  Despite all of their flaws, their energy, their incessant back-talking, the eye rolling, the held-back tears, and eventually their crumbling walls, I am called to love them because He loves them.

I believe I was created BY His purpose, FOR His purpose, meaning my behavioral quirks, personality, physical appearance, background, and life experiences make me uniquely talented and fitted for the work He demands of me.

Here's what I mean.  Get ready! You're going to learn more about me than you'd probably care to know. Sorry.... except I'm really not.

• For YEARS, I was the awkwardly cliche middle school girl. I was uncomfortable in my own skin, jealous of the "pretty" girls, too shy to put myself out there.  The introvert in me kept my heart closed, hiding my anxiety and unhappiness from the world.  I, like every other girl on the planet, suffered from body image issues.  I was the poster child for "Middle School is the Worst Three Years of Your Life."  Unfortunately for me, my awkward followed me years after I left 8th grade.
• I was raised by a strong-willed, confident, single mother.  I don't know my dad, apart from a name on a birth certificate and a handful of sporadic memories that make me grimace.  I was the typical "day-care kid," who felt more comfortable around childcare providers than my own extended family.  I resented my friends who had dads and even to this day, I feel a pang of hurt when I see a Father-Daughter Dance at a wedding.
• I am sarcastic. Almost to a fault.  I love making people laugh, and sometimes I'm even good at it (not according to this blog, however. This blog is 100% stoic. All.The.Time).
• I am young-ish.  I am old enough to see the repercussions of the mistakes I made in my early 20's, and I am young enough to understand when the next generation makes the same ones.  I look younger than I am. I vividly remember meeting my students' parents the first couple of years teaching. I felt their eyes scanning me up and down, wondering "Is she even old enough to be a teacher?"

Now...why would a self-proclaimed introvert who guards her heart fiercely be so vulnerable today (aside from this is her blog and she can)?  It's because I realized this: I am the way I am on purpose.  Don't get me wrong. I am flawed. Seriously flawed.  Some days I even try working at it.  But I realized that God is using me EXACTLY the way I am to serve His purpose.


I speak fluent middle school. I know how to get my troublesome 7th and 8th graders to care.  Believe me, I'm not gloating.  I have no idea what the magic formula is for getting through to these kids, but something is working.  My kids know they can come to me. They know I've invested my everything into their success. After 4 years of pouring into their lives, I've finally started to see a transformation in them.  Their walls are beginning to fall. 


I attribute this all to God.  He has fully and graciously equipped a very flawed person like myself to handle the daily battles of working with hormonal middle school kids. 

So here's where I leave off.  Luke 12:48 says, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked."

I have been given my life for a purpose.  I have been given my personality, every strength and vice, every inappropriate sarcastic comment or thought, for a reason.

And because of this, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Eyes Wide... Closed

I recently read this quote by Norman Douglas, "To find a friend, one must close one eye.  To keep him...two."

It took me a few reads to truly appreciate the beauty of this idea.  Douglas is suggesting that finding community takes a certain act of faith, as well as an extension of grace.  We must have faith that the person we "see" before us is who they say they are, and we must extend them grace when perhaps that's not the case.  We don't enter relationships blindly, but once we're knee-deep in them, we are called to love and accept our friends where they are.

Recently, I was over-whelmed with life. Yes, yes, I know, this is a common theme when I blog. I'm working on it.  I write when I'm stressed. I write when I'm emotional.  I am neither of these today.  Be shocked.

Instead, I just felt like sharing a story as my act of gratitude towards a dear friend.

A couple of weeks ago, I was failing at life.  One of the first things that seems to go when I lose control of life is the orderliness of my house. It was bad.  I needed help.

My best friend and I had made plans to spend time in community with one another, but I texted her the morning of asking for a rain check.  I wanted to clean my house.  I assumed she'd happily comply.  But hours passed, and I heard nothing from her.  She called me after school and said she would not extend me my rain check, but instead would come help me clean.  Ouch.  She was a better person than me.  My best friend, who I've canceled on countless times, was coming to help me clean my house...while pregnant.  Yeah, it wasn't my proudest moment.

She was so gracious and perky, asking "What now?" and "Let's tackle this area next."  I was humbled and guilt-stricken for her act of service.  As she cleaned my upstairs bathroom, I sat on my kitchen floor and cried.  She doesn't know this, well, not until now, at least.

I had let my life get so crazy, so busy, that I had hurt the people around me.  My circle was wide, but it certainly was not deep.  I cried because I realized that I had failed at keeping up much more than just my house.

1 John 4:20 says, "If someone says, 'I love God,' but hates a Christian brother or sister, that person is a liar; for if we don't love people we can see, how can we love God, whom we cannot see?"

She was loving me when I certainly hadn't earned it.

I hope she knows how much I love her heart. She loves me unconditionally, but still holds me accountable for my lousy decisions.  She extends me grace when I need it and challenges me to do the same.  I said at her wedding that she was a woman that I looked to for advice and for approval, someone who so clearly embodied a strong woman of Christ.  Everything I said about her character and her heart is still true today.

She has a been a friend who has kept both eyes closed with me. And for that, I am grateful.

With your loved ones, are your eyes open or closed?

 

House Arrest

It's not a secret- I over-commit. I have trouble saying no.  My life is a constant series of appointments and to- do lists. I frequently double book, hoping it will all work itself out. I'm the typical, busy, twenty something.

But it wasn't always this way.  There was once a time when my weekends were free. I watched a thing called television, and I could even provide you with a synopsis of all the latest episodes of the hit shows.  I read books...and actually had time to finish them.  I even reveled in the fact that when an engagement came up, I got to pull out my calendar, and actually use it.  Back then, I wasn't busy.  I hated it.  Being lazy wasn't how I wanted to live.

So I changed it. 

This past year, I went from one extreme to the other. Lethargy is not a word I'd use to characterize my life now.  Every weekend, I find myself struggling to balance all of the people and commitments I've made.  I drive. A lot.  I use more gas now, than I'd care to admit.  I miss sleep, and I'm often left out of conversations regarding what's on television.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm just summarizing what life looks like now.  It's strikingly different than a year ago.  And I feel blessed by it all.

But I found enough down time to blog. Shock. I had to cancel three sets of plans today, Memorial Day, the day when everyone, even the hermits of the world have plans, because I'm under House Arrest.  

I'm not allowed to leave my house, or really even get up off the couch, per Dr. Kendra's and Dr. Shannon's orders.  I had surgery on my foot on Friday. Very painful bone surgery.  I say this because I underestimated how much it would hurt, and how much I would have to scale my life back.  Yesterday, only two days after my surgery, I attempted to "get my life back." Church, friends, bible study- a typical Sunday.

Only it wasn't typical.  I was too drugged up to hear the message at church. I struggled to get up and down the stairs, providing comic relief to my friends.  I threw up several times, while my beloved friend and chauffeur held back any patronizing comments about being right. I even laid sprawled out on her bathroom floor because I was too weak to get up. Yesterday wrecked me.

And here I am- smiling.  I'm sitting on my patio, loving that I'm not allowed to do anything today.  I was forced to take a day off, and I'm so thankful that I have friends who tell me when enough is enough. God strategically placed strong-willed friends and family in my life who make me take care of myself. 

So to those wonderful ladies, I say thank you.  Thank you for loving me enough to yell at me when I'm being stupid. Thank you for being strong enough to make hard decisions for me.  Thank you for challenging my stubbornness.  

I need days like today. And I need you to remind me of that. 

What Are We Teaching Kids?

Kids are great reflectors.

Yes, I realize that statement isn't rocket science.  In fact, there are a number of websites exploring the relationship between adolescent brain development and environment.  No seriously.  I Googled it (side note- the English teacher in me loves the fact that we took a proper noun and made it into a verb).  Anyhow, there are over 27,000,000 sites about this idea.  Add my blog post, and now we have 27,000,001 sites examining why middle schoolers act they way they do.  Neat.

Kids are products of their environments.  Spend even a small amount of time with a middle school student, and within minutes, you can deduct whether or not their parents are present or absent in their lives.  You can ascertain whether the father figure is honorable or cowardly.  You can even tell if a kid is feeling the pressure of financial stress, or if they're being raised to naively believe that the money supply is infinite.  To those kids, I chuckle.  Infinite money supply. Haha, yeah, good luck, buddy. 

Anyhow, I'm realizing that middle school students reflect their upbringing in how they think and how they behave.  And this goes for ALL kids, not just the gems sitting in front of me in English class.

Exhibit A:  I have a 7th grade student.  We'll call him Isaac*.  From the moment Isaac stepped foot into our school, he has struggled.  Fighting, bullying, incessant eye rolling.  He has perfected it all.  He was immediately labeled a "real middle school kid," and I'm going to be honest, my first thoughts about him were, Ugh, really? Which, of course, was followed by my own eye roll.
       Isaac has been suspended countless times, is behind in every academic area, and speaks openly about how he hates his life.
       Enter his parents.  

       Earlier this semester, I had to sit in on a meeting about Isaac with all of his teachers, my principal, Isaac, and his mother.  His mother openly said, "I've given up on him.  I'm waiting for the police to come and take him away."  Yup, right in front of her son.  Heart breaking, right?
       I realized that day that Isaac's behavior, lack of self-control, and overall demeanor was not his fault.  Up until that point, he had no one, myself included, telling him that he was valuable, that he was uniquely created for a purpose bigger than I or anyone else could see.  He mattered.  He just didn't know it.
       From that point on, my colleagues and I took him on as our "project".  We vowed that we would not give up on him.  He WILL graduate from high school.  He WILL get out of his destructive home environment.
      Well, a few weeks ago, he stole a master key to our school.  Yeah, if that's not a kick to the stomach, I don't know what is.  After weeks of "working on him" and extending him grace, he pulled this. Really, Isaac? Really?!?
       Of course, we had no proof that he stole it, except for other students' testimonies.  He continually denied it, frustrating us even further.  Finally, after several conversations telling him that if "it just shows up," he wouldn't get into any trouble, he proudly returned the key on Monday.
       Later on in the day, he went up to the main office.  He asked my principal, "Um...are you proud of me for turning it in?"
       She responded, "Isaac, yes.  You did the right thing, but I'm very hurt and disappointed that you lied to us and stole the key in the first place."
       His head lowered, feeling ashamed.  And then softly, he said again, "But I did the right thing, right?  You're proud of me?"
       Hearing this broke my heart.  He was crying out to be validated and praised.  He desperately wants to be told he is good, that he has so much to offer this world.
     
      And yet, the people who really get to shape him into the man he needs to be aren't stepping up.

      Kids reflect the instability, chaos, and pain that encompasses their world.  But they also reflect the good, the love, and the respect they see.  It's a scale.  Show a kid that they matter, and they will start to believe it and act that way.  Show a kid dysfunction, and they become dysfunctional.  It's that simple.

     So God, today I ask, please grant me patience to deal with my students who act out.  Help me extend them grace when they mess up.  Let my words and actions show them they matter.  

Reading Should Change You

If my 6th and 7th graders learn only one thing while in my English class, I hope it's this: Reading should change you.  Yes, I would be relieved if they could learn the difference between your and you're or that 'cuz isn't a word, much less a reason. If after our eight months together, they can spell definitely or does correctly, I would be happy, and I think the world would thank me. But this is not why I teach.  It's not why I love reading and writing.

I love being an English teacher because I get to show 100 angst-ridden, hormonal 6th and 7th graders that there is a world outside of text messaging, Facebook posts, and YouTube clips.  Like teenagers everywhere, my students are consumed with drama.  Their friendships and romantic relationships are short-lived and not fulfilling.  They hate their parents one minute, love and admire them the next.  They don't know who they are, or what they want.  They simply can't see beyond themselves to appreciate the life they have been given. I'm not criticizing them.  I went through this stage.  It is why I'm not too worried about them.  They'll grow out of it, eventually.

However, when I am granted a small window of opportunity to get them to be moved by literature, I get to go home, hang my "teacher" coat up, and breathe a sigh of relief.  I did it.  They were affected.  Someone else's story caused them to see themselves and the world differently.

I had such a moment on Friday.

My 7th graders are in the midst of a Holocaust unit.  It's been the hardest and most rewarding unit I have ever taught.  I can unabashedly say they have learned more the last four weeks than they have this whole year.

Don't tell my district, but gasp, I read aloud to them.  A whole book.  Everyday.  Together, we read Yellow Star, a true account of a little girl who survived in the Lodz, Poland ghetto.  She was one of 12 children to walk out on Liberation Day.  270,000 Jews were forced to live in this ghetto over a six year time period, and only 800 people survived.  Of that, 12 were children. 12.

There were several times while reading this book that I got goosebumps or teary- eyed.  Again, I'm admittedly a tender-heart who loves reading.  You shouldn't be shocked that this book would affect me.

But the real thing to be celebrated is that I had 50 7th graders along for the ride.  When we finished the story on Friday, silence filled my classroom.  Eyes stared down at the tables.  One student had to quickly find the tissue box.  Words were unnecessary.  I knew what their silence meant- they had been moved.  Reading had affected them.

I had them write personal responses anonymously just so I could see what they were thinking. Here are some that validate that I am exactly where God needs me to be:

-"I take things for granted. I know I should value everything because they had nothing and they were just content with family." 
-"Through it all, they had hope.  They had each other and that was enough."
-"To be honest, I thought the Holocaust was just a tough part in history, but I realize that it was much more than a rough patch in someone's life.  It was real." 
-"Horrifying.  The feelings, thoughts of this unspeakable madness.  It made sorrow rise up from my aching heart.  Tears of respect flow down from my soul." 
-"I think many of us take life for granted.  I got chills throughout this book.  If we think our life is hard, just imagine being in the shoes of a Holocaust victim."
-"Jews went through so much pain seeing the Nazis kill their loved ones, but they still managed to hold onto hope. "


This is why I teach.

He is Why

Crossroads.  Junctions.  Intersections.

Call it what you will, but each is referencing those big life moments where "from this point on, things were never the same."

Our current series at church titled,"Changed Life...Changed Community...Changed World," is exploring these turning-point moments, most notably Jesus's triumph over death and how it literally changed everything.  When he conquered death, he paved a way for every person to have an intimate, personal relationship with his father.  His ultimate sacrifice allows me to sit here on my patio smiling because I know a freedom that is rooted entirely in grace and mercy.  My Father loves me, has always loved me, and will always love me.  My limited human experience will never fully appreciate or understand the gravity of that statement.  And I don't have to.  I just know it's true.

Jesus describes in Matthew 16:13-19 how nothing will be able to stop his church, his mission in having every person know the freedom that comes with God's grace and love.  In Acts 1:8, he describes how his church will spread first to "Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."  2000 years later, and his promise hold true.  His church has spread to the ends of the earth.  I am living proof of that.

Today's service talked about Stephen, a preacher who accused the Jews of persecuting Jesus.  He is ultimately stoned to death for his sermon.  Upon seeing this, believers scattered. To where?  Judea and Samaria, ultimately fulfilling Jesus's own promise about how his church will spread.

Our God is so masterful.  He equipped Stephen to be exactly who He needed him to be.  Eloquence, intelligence, and position- all used so that one day, he could deliver this pivotal, life- changing sermon.  Stephen's death was for His purpose of spreading the great news of Jesus.

So here I am, thinking about God's purpose for each of us.  I am reminded of a quote that states, "The purpose of my life is far greater than my own personal fulfillment, peace of mind, or even my happiness.  It is far greater than my own family, career, or wildest dreams.  I was born BY His purpose FOR His purpose" (Beth Moore).

Stephen was wonderfully and intricately crafted by God to be used by God.

And I'm realizing, so am I.  He has entrusted me with this small amount of time on earth to live abundantly, fearlessly, and effectively.  My geographical location in the world, my passions, my disposition, my career choice- are all a part of God's plan. So it is with this in mind that I ask, "God...what do you want to do today? And how can I be a part of it?"

Goodnight, Dear Lily

Note: I wrote this from a point of sheer emotional and physical exhaustion.  It is what it is. 

So after a wonderfully relaxing spring break with my mom, I walked into my house, ready for the week to come, ready to end this year on a strong note.  I was ready to be an adult again.

My respite came to a jarring halt as soon as I walked upstairs to check on my dog, Lily.  My roommate had been watching her this week, so I was not alarmed when silence greeted me as I opened my bedroom door.  She was sleeping.  I quietly peered over the baby gate, watching her sleep peacefully under my vanity.  I knew calling her would be pointless- she had lost her hearing long ago. So I slowly climbed over the gate and bent down to her. Still, she did not move.  I put my hand on her head, and instead of startling her to her feet which was my usual greeting, she slowly, groggily lifted her head. She saw me, and almost anti-climatically, put her head back down.

To save you the graphic details, I have spent the entire day laying in my bed holding her. Where there was once a spark of life, now there is only a vacant stare.  Her eyes tell all- she is leaving me. She is tired.  She is ready.

This little dog has been a constant in my life for the past 15 years.  She has been exactly who I needed her to be when I needed it.  She was the one who listened to all of my middle school secrets- the drama, the boys, the teachers who "hated me."  She was the one who cuddled with me as I cried at the news of my mom's upcoming marriage and move to Indiana.  She was the one who licked my hand and nuzzled close when I experienced my first heartbreak.  She was there when I slept alone in my house for the first time.  Even though her small stature and measly four pounds would barely startle an intruder much less protect me, her mere presence brought me peace that first night.  She has been there for me through it all.

And now it seems I'll have to do this part alone. For her. Because she has done so much for me.

Sweet Dreams, Little One.

March 30, 2012

A Quiet Break from It All

"Life is rough.  It's also beautiful, but if we can't get some respite from its cruelty, we will never have the healthy vision to savor its tender beauty." (Beth Moore)


My restful reprieve after a very turbulent week and arguably an exhausting few months, came in the form of an afternoon wrapped in my grandmother's knitted blanket, listening to the harmonic blend of instrumental music, children laughing in a neighboring backyard, and lawn mowers and weed trimmers.  Yes, this simplistic day has renewed my spirit.  It was the "respite from [life's] cruelty" that Beth Moore describes. 


My life over the past few months can be characterized by a lack of sleep, an endless series of commitments and obligations, and a feeling of utter exhaustion.  All of this culminated with me sitting in my classroom on a Friday afternoon before break, crying.  I was crying for the hurting kids I am blessed to know and do life with.  I was crying at my own feelings of futility at not being able to do more for them.  I was crying because I am unreservedly sensitive, a tender-heart who struggles with the pain of others.  In fact, I blogged about it all on Friday afternoon, but for the purpose of self-preservation, I have decided not to post it. 


Life was getting me down.  


So my peaceful corner in this world- the enclosed porch of my parents' house on our lake in Indiana, was God's gift of peace and respite.  Psalm 29:11 states, "The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses His people with peace." I am thankful for a God who loves me enough to gift me with a day like today.  He knew how I desperately I needed it. 


The calm of a good book and a cup of coffee have rejuvenated my spirit.  It is in this time of quiet that I feel most connected to God.  It is so easy to get wrapped up in the appointments, the to-do lists of the day-to-day, that sometimes, God inadvertently takes a backseat.  As much as I try to keep Him centered in everything I do, if I were to be honest, when I get overwhelmed with my schedule, He becomes another thing to check off of my "master list." Guilt-ridden from missing the boat yet again, I fervently try even harder to make Him my ultimate priority.  I do well for a day or so, but life eventually gets busier, and my quiet time with God becomes sporadic.  I end up feeling even more disappointed in myself.


But, this day has been a simple reminder that God loves me.  My earnest and childish attempts to "do better" make Him laugh.  He loves me so completely, so entirely, that while I know He loves spending time with me on these quiet afternoons, He also loves me on my busy, stress-filled days, the days when a simple, "I need You," is all I can mutter.  He is walking with me through it all.  Days like today should be cherished and remembered because I know that my life will inevitably get crazy again. Life will get rough.  But God is there, loving me through it all. 


So Lord, thank you for this break from the hurting, the exhaustion, and the tears.  It is with new vision that I am savoring the beauty of this life. 

A Blog Post about a Race...creative, right?

I have heard, "Chase after Jesus" or "Set your sights on Jesus," more times than I can count.  These bumper sticker slogans are tossed around so often in the Christian community, that to be honest, I've never really thought much about them.  I mean obviously, if we claim to be Christ's followers, we should be chasing after him.  It's a given.  Done.  Moving on.

But a string of events this weekend has made me think twice about these cliche phrases.  Life is a marathon race.  Ok, I admit it, this is not a profound analogy. It's not original, and I'd even venture to say, it's just as trite as the previously mentioned slogans.  In fact, you're probably sitting there thinking...Great, another blog about how someone has "figured" out life.  Haha, nope. I have not figured out anything.  But this weekend has left me so emotionally drained, and I need to process.  So I blog.  Feel free, of course, to stop reading this and switch to a blog with creative recipes that use olive oil and ricotta cheese instead of butter (it's possible...Google it). 

Anyhow, my late night rant presses on.

I believe that God is good and His promises are true.  I also know that He has me on an incredible journey that will be undoubtedly hard and relentlessly frustrating, but the reward at the end is going to make all the tears and sweat worth it. 

And here's where my ridiculously cliche analogy stems from:

Tonight, one of my dearest and closest friends, who I should mention started running my race with me over 15 years ago, told me some incredible, life-changing news.  My heart leaped out of my chest for her.  I have been running life with her for so long that her celebrations are my celebrations, and equally, her failures and disappointments are my own.  I have seen her fall.  I have seen her quit.  I have seen her literally sit down, pouting that she wouldn't take one more step forward.  But I have also seen her press on, fully living in a peace and joy only explained by God's grace and love for her.  So her news is something that I feel blessed to get to share with her.

But it also struck a painful chord in me, a chord I didn't know I had.  Tonight, I realized that she is at a different mile marker than I am.  Her road blocks and speed bumps are no longer ones I will be able to relate to.  She is so far ahead of me that our struggles are not comparable anymore.  I realized tonight that a friend I had started running with so long ago had paced herself very differently than I had, and as a result, our races are no longer the same.

So, confused by my sudden change in emotional state, I called another dear friend of mine.  She and I have only been running side by side for a little less than a year, but her friendship is no less important to me.  She told me that when running a marathon, "Someone will always show up at mile 24 to encourage you to keep going."  She is my mile 24 pep talk.  Her words made me laugh.  They made me feel normal again.  She told me I wasn't crazy and that it was possible, expected even, to feel such juxtaposing emotions.  I stopped crying. Win. 

But here's what I really learned.  God is using my running buddies for His purpose.  He is using my old friend to show me where I ultimately want to go in my life, that if I keep running after Jesus the way she has, then eventually, I'll be on the same path as her again (*fingers crossed).  And He's also using my mile 24 friend (who I confidently know will not be a small blip on my "life radar." She is stuck with me. Sorry, Friend), to show me I'm not alone. There are people running right beside me, encouraging me not to quit, not to stop hoping.

I believe God has a great road ahead of me.  And with Jesus as my coach, I know I'll reach the end.  I might just have a ridiculously slower pace than everyone else.

There Are Some Decent Ones Left...

There are some days in a teacher's career where when the final bell rings and students scurry home, or in my case, to the local park to engage in delinquent behavior (Aurora- enough said), that a teacher will question the very reason she entered this profession.  These days leave us exhausted, frustrated, bitter, or worse yet, indifferent.  Unfortunately, I admit that this profession has left me a little jaded.  


Apathetic and broken students, who are just trying to survive life, much less, learn standard English conventions, break my heart.  I know the future that awaits them if they continue on their path. It's pretty bleak. 


Coworkers, who seemingly hate kids, break students' confidence, love for learning, and willingness to work on their issues.  They negate any strides I could have made with the students mentioned above.  


Then, there are parents- parents who have done nothing for their child, except set them up for imminent failure.  Unexcused absences, no accountability, selfishness- whatever the reason, they single-handedly shatter their child's self-esteem and ability to succeed.  It is these parents that make my heart hurt.  These people are supposed to be their child's advocate.  Instead of cheering their child on, I am seeing more and more parents who are simply failing them.  


But today is a day of celebration, not frustration.


Today restored my faith in parents, specifically fathers.  I have a student, we'll call him John*, who moved here from another state.  He was living with his mother in a severely unstable home.  His wrap sheet from his previous school was a mile long, and truthfully, my first thought when I saw my "New Student Email" was pure terror.  This kid is going to be tough.  As a last ditch effort to help John, the courts sent him to live with his father here in Aurora.  He had not seen his father in about 10 years.  Nervously willing, Bill* agreed to take custody of his troubled son.  


It's been tough.  Real tough. On all of us.  


But today, as John, his teachers, his principal, and his father sat conferencing about his recent infraction, tears began to well inside.  As I watched Bill sternly talk to his son, I realized This father was a real man.  Yes, he's been absent from John's life for 10 years.  Yes, he should have been there all along.  And yes, he carries some of the responsibility in John being the way he is, but man, has this father stepped up to the plate now.  He is leading his son in the right direction.  He is not backing down when John challenges him.  He is loving his son, despite his temper and aggression.  He is single-handedly giving his son a chance to make-it.  I do what I can, and I'm not belittling what I or any other teacher do, but he, this father, recognized his own legacy on his son and as a result, is changing the course of history.  Now, with utmost confidence and conviction, I know John is going to make-it.   


Today, I am proud to be a teacher and get to work alongside fathers, and mothers, and any other adult who steps up and advocates for a child.  They are challenging my jadedness with this profession.  


As Bill walked out of the principal's office, his son in tote, I said a silent prayer.  


God- Give him and every other parent who is doing it the right way, the strength and wisdom to lead their kids.  Bless them, Father. 

My Interest with Pinterest

So I've recently jumped on the Pinterest Bandwagon, partly because I can't avoid pop culture phenomena and partly because I liked the photography pins some of my friends were posting.  Anyhow, I'm amazed at how one of my boards appropriately titled, "Life Needs More Laughter," is creating a pretty expansive following.  Most of the people who watch this board only exist in an online community, and I'll likely never meet them face to face.  Is this the new age of blogging?  Are people not even taking the time to write out their thoughts? Instead, they can easily convey their moods, personality, and interests by clicking the Pin It button below their toolbar. You can learn a lot about someone based on their Pinterest boards.

For example, one of my friends has a Wedding Board and a Baby Board.  Interestingly enough, she's been married for over a year now, long before she got on board with Pinterest, and as far as I know, a little baby Schumann is not in the works yet.  But, she is the do-er, the Type-A person, who loves event planning.  She loves decorating, crafts, creating ambiance with correct lighting and candles.  Of course she would have two boards like that. I'd expect nothing less from her.

A culinary enthusiast friend pins recipes she'd like to try, cakes so beautiful and intricate that they couldn't possibly be edible, and exercise ideas, obviously to help curb any additional poundage from her aforementioned two boards.  Food is her life.

So what do my boards say about me?  I'd say a couple of things.  First, I have a "Beauty in the Ordinary" board where I pin simplistically beautiful photos.  I do this in an effort to remind myself that even in the most common and small places, there is beauty.  Whether it be the design made in the foam of a cappuccino, or an auburn leaf grasping to hold onto its branch for a moment longer, or two young people unabashedly loving one another.  All beautiful. All simple.  Maybe we'd all be a little bit happier if we searched for beauty in the ordinary.

Another board I have is "Stylish."  I am by no way claiming I am stylish. Far from it.  I just have high aspirations that one day I'll know which shoes to wear with which jeans, which colors compliment each other so as not to rely too heavily on my black cardigan as my only accessory, and to know that one day, I might actually be able to pull of hats with an outfit.  My "stylish" board could also be appropriately titled, "Not Likely for Nicole."

Last and the inspiration for this blog post, my board, "Life Needs More Laughter."  This board has followers- real people who care to see the things I find humorous.  Yes, I agree life is funny and several of my pins still get me laughing out loud, but I can't help but wonder, why is this one so popular?  I think many of us are so frustrated, exhausted, or beat down with life that a simple card joking about internet stalking makes us laugh.  We are all desperate to find joy in our lives, that sometimes the only uplifting thing we have is a pin it making fun of Neville from Harry Potter.  It's kind of sad, really.  Life shouldn't be doing that to us.