Easter 2013
A prayer
Lord, focus my heart and help me to reflect on your Grace, not just just by cultural protocol but by sincerity. It was I who nailed you to the tree. It was I who hated you, who so quickly cried out "Hosanna!" when you were comfortable to me and shining and clothed in white and when everyone else was cheering, too. But it was also I who turned you in and denied you in a quest to save my own neck. You were scorned physically by the world and by me and separated spritually by your father, encountering wrath that I'll never know.
You know what injustice is.
I scorn you in the times when I think that certain choices have no bearing on me. I scorn you when I mock my neighbor. I scorn you when I try to amplify my ego. I scorn you in trying to be known when all the people of this world really need to see is you. These disastrous qualities alone would be enough to turn anyone else away.
Today, though, we remember that you rise. You bore hell, a complete separation from God, and yet you rise.
So I'm going to wear white and maybe a little blue, and I'm going to go on with my simple life eating cadburry eggs and then ham for dinner. Maybe I'll go for a walk, too, or more likely play a few games on my iPad.
But today and in the days following I want to reflect on your Grace. It is all-encompassing. And if it wasn't enough, Lord, like you say to David, you would have given even more. I deserve misery, but you have given me Grace, and for that my petty words are few, but my heart is yours.
Amen.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Sister
By now I hope I have clarified that I miss my sister.
Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking deciding to move away from her and her family. She has been a constant friend, one in whom I can confide, and I could search for a many years and not find the love and respect that we have shown each other.
She is a forever friend.
Here I come, sister. Thanks for preparing me a room :)
Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking deciding to move away from her and her family. She has been a constant friend, one in whom I can confide, and I could search for a many years and not find the love and respect that we have shown each other.
She is a forever friend.
Here I come, sister. Thanks for preparing me a room :)
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Teens and twenty-something's, just curious
What is going to happen when your kids someday become even more savvy than you at using the Internet, and discover that you had 1000+ tweets and were highly followed
What is going to happen when they figure out your Facebook password because you haven't changed it in 19 years and use the same password for everything else too...and then they search your inbox and discover tell-all messages you sent to your college friends during Spring Break 2013
What is going to happen when they realize that through Yahoo you were andymuffin09 and trolled hundreds of other commenters and YouTube videos
What is going to happen when they scroll so far back in your Instagram that they can't unsee photos of their dad with a fohawk making out with their mom who wore too much eye shadow and headbands only to discover about 100 pictures further back that he was doing this very same thing with the girlfriend before Mom
What stink-eye face will they make when they uncover hundreds of duck face and selfies
What will be their reaction when they see 81 likes and 15 comments about the first time they went potty
What are they going to say when they discover your blog
And how will your parental authority override their abundance of knowledge about you?
Just curious.
What is going to happen when they figure out your Facebook password because you haven't changed it in 19 years and use the same password for everything else too...and then they search your inbox and discover tell-all messages you sent to your college friends during Spring Break 2013
What is going to happen when they realize that through Yahoo you were andymuffin09 and trolled hundreds of other commenters and YouTube videos
What is going to happen when they scroll so far back in your Instagram that they can't unsee photos of their dad with a fohawk making out with their mom who wore too much eye shadow and headbands only to discover about 100 pictures further back that he was doing this very same thing with the girlfriend before Mom
What stink-eye face will they make when they uncover hundreds of duck face and selfies
What will be their reaction when they see 81 likes and 15 comments about the first time they went potty
What are they going to say when they discover your blog
And how will your parental authority override their abundance of knowledge about you?
Just curious.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Baby Kitty
I am house sitting. They have a cat. When he was younger he used to attack my legs with his teeth as a result of having been declawed.
The cat has since grown up. He's more interested in treats and going outside and being let in the exact second he meows at the door. Just like his owners do, I pet him while he eats. I fill his bowl with water and let him rub up against me as I walk. He no longer darts through the halls at my legs, and that has made the experience more fun.
It seems like there's still something I can't trust about him, though. It's not that his fur is clumping up or that his meow is louder. It isn't anything really. There is no proof. I jump a little when I see him coming around he hall. That's it.
Well, that and this. At 5am he pawed thoroughly at the door. He'll go away, I thought, but he didn't. He's a cat. He can't open doors. It was at this thought that the door creeeeeeeked open and very soon his booming meow came from on top of me, and his grey-orange eyes flickered in the sunrise.
The cat has since grown up. He's more interested in treats and going outside and being let in the exact second he meows at the door. Just like his owners do, I pet him while he eats. I fill his bowl with water and let him rub up against me as I walk. He no longer darts through the halls at my legs, and that has made the experience more fun.
It seems like there's still something I can't trust about him, though. It's not that his fur is clumping up or that his meow is louder. It isn't anything really. There is no proof. I jump a little when I see him coming around he hall. That's it.
Well, that and this. At 5am he pawed thoroughly at the door. He'll go away, I thought, but he didn't. He's a cat. He can't open doors. It was at this thought that the door creeeeeeeked open and very soon his booming meow came from on top of me, and his grey-orange eyes flickered in the sunrise.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Tuesdays with Blogger
I couldn't imagine not having my job.
I wonder too much who I would be if teaching hadn't consumed the pores of my life for the past two and a half years. I think that's how we think about our lives. We attempt to compare it to something that could have been. And from that comparison we make assumptions about this parallel reality.
By cause and effect, if I didn't have this job, there would have been consequences. Say that my interview for CCHS didn't go that well, and I was turned away. I would have continued working at Casey's gas station making donuts and picking up volunteer opportunities at the library to build my resume a little. From there, I'm not sure. Maybe I would have substitute taught at PH middle school until I got my foot in the door.
Maybe.
And maybe at 25 in this parallel, would-be story, the state of my heart would be similar.
Maybe I would have learned to listen carefully to people before butting in with my own ideas. Maybe my teaching methods would still be the same. Maybe I would have had students in similar situations, or I would have worked with administration all the same or developed a similar fondness for my place of work.
I don't know.
What I do know is that the wouldbes and the whatifs matter only so far as your imagination says it's okay to go. We can always dream that contentment is better in another place or another time, but that is not true. I value imagination, and in fact I stress myself more over what-if situations than I do over real ones, and daily I let waves of my brain take me other places altogether, but I am where I am for a reason.
I couldn't have dreamed a better discussion about film manipulation with my Media class today. I couldn't concoct students so complex as these ones, whose stories have intersected since they were in kindergarten. My whatifs and couldhavebeens couldn't hypothesize how addictive it is to know that the mind of a student has been opened by what it is you're discussing.
There are few moments similar to remaining in the heart of discussion that you barely even hear the class bell ring.
Those moments are perfect.
The other day I read about Jonah and how he ran away from God's will, which was to deliver a message to the Ninevites. He ran and people warned him pretty seriously that it was not good to ignore God's call. They tossed him to sea and there he was placed in the belly of the whale to reflect on his duty.
I couldn't help but trace my steps back. I look at purpose and realize that I've been called to it this whole time. I cannot deny being a child of the Covenant. Attending Sunday school as a child, going to GEMS, receiving my first New Testament, doing youth group, missions trips, talking with friends about what it all means, choosing Dordt and New Mexico and SF and now DeMotte, I can't help it. God has been calling me this whole time. I have nominally professed my Christianity, which is great. It's wonderful actually. Please tell your family you love the Lord. But please, don't let these phases roll by unnoticed and unevaluated.
I remember Sunday school so well because I was taught to say "This is the day that the Lord has made" meaning that God made even the sun, and the sun was far bigger than me, and that "I will rejoice and be glad in it" meaning exactly what it says.
I remember GEMS because it was the first time I realize that there were adults other than the ones in my family who cared about my spiritual development. I remember youth group, because before that I didn't know what it was to study the Bible, and before those bus ride discussions with friends I didn't know what it meant to apply the scriptures to life. Before Dordt, I didn't understand doctrine and calling and how invaluable friendship is, and before service trips I didn't know what it was to humble myself even to those lower on the capitalistic scale than what it was to live in a double-wide trailer.
Before counseling in Alaska I hadn't invested in the lives of youth who needed even incompetent me to help them along like the Ninevites needed Jonah. Before New Mexico, I didn't know what it was to be a minority and to understand how privileged I am to be white in America. Before SF, I didn't understand what it was to value family and how important it is to let your family see you grow.
Before D-town, I didn't thoroughly understand consistency in a walk with Christ, as modeled by Cherie and Jim, and I didn't understand what it means not to let your past dictate who you are, and I didn't understand that transformation and forgiveness doesn't happen all at once, and I didn't understand how to function in this weird stage called adulthood (and still don't, to be honest).
I find great joy in working with my students, with those who really want to succeed. I take joy in watching them do well in other areas, and truth be told, that joy wraps itself through the things with which I'm not so savvy. I wasn't the best at management of a classroom two years back but now I can tell it's improving. I no longer desire to turn right and head east and instead I faithfully turn left every morning, which is the way to school.
I am not sure if I've heard God's call clearly but the thing about retrospect is that you get to see your situation a lot better from its viewpoint. Sometimes I think it's a matter of making a decision, sticking with it, and living Christly where we are and not so much about comparing our lives to how things could have been.
I just want to appreciate the 25 I'm in.
I wonder too much who I would be if teaching hadn't consumed the pores of my life for the past two and a half years. I think that's how we think about our lives. We attempt to compare it to something that could have been. And from that comparison we make assumptions about this parallel reality.
By cause and effect, if I didn't have this job, there would have been consequences. Say that my interview for CCHS didn't go that well, and I was turned away. I would have continued working at Casey's gas station making donuts and picking up volunteer opportunities at the library to build my resume a little. From there, I'm not sure. Maybe I would have substitute taught at PH middle school until I got my foot in the door.
Maybe.
And maybe at 25 in this parallel, would-be story, the state of my heart would be similar.
Maybe I would have learned to listen carefully to people before butting in with my own ideas. Maybe my teaching methods would still be the same. Maybe I would have had students in similar situations, or I would have worked with administration all the same or developed a similar fondness for my place of work.
I don't know.
What I do know is that the wouldbes and the whatifs matter only so far as your imagination says it's okay to go. We can always dream that contentment is better in another place or another time, but that is not true. I value imagination, and in fact I stress myself more over what-if situations than I do over real ones, and daily I let waves of my brain take me other places altogether, but I am where I am for a reason.
I couldn't have dreamed a better discussion about film manipulation with my Media class today. I couldn't concoct students so complex as these ones, whose stories have intersected since they were in kindergarten. My whatifs and couldhavebeens couldn't hypothesize how addictive it is to know that the mind of a student has been opened by what it is you're discussing.
There are few moments similar to remaining in the heart of discussion that you barely even hear the class bell ring.
Those moments are perfect.
The other day I read about Jonah and how he ran away from God's will, which was to deliver a message to the Ninevites. He ran and people warned him pretty seriously that it was not good to ignore God's call. They tossed him to sea and there he was placed in the belly of the whale to reflect on his duty.
I couldn't help but trace my steps back. I look at purpose and realize that I've been called to it this whole time. I cannot deny being a child of the Covenant. Attending Sunday school as a child, going to GEMS, receiving my first New Testament, doing youth group, missions trips, talking with friends about what it all means, choosing Dordt and New Mexico and SF and now DeMotte, I can't help it. God has been calling me this whole time. I have nominally professed my Christianity, which is great. It's wonderful actually. Please tell your family you love the Lord. But please, don't let these phases roll by unnoticed and unevaluated.
I remember Sunday school so well because I was taught to say "This is the day that the Lord has made" meaning that God made even the sun, and the sun was far bigger than me, and that "I will rejoice and be glad in it" meaning exactly what it says.
I remember GEMS because it was the first time I realize that there were adults other than the ones in my family who cared about my spiritual development. I remember youth group, because before that I didn't know what it was to study the Bible, and before those bus ride discussions with friends I didn't know what it meant to apply the scriptures to life. Before Dordt, I didn't understand doctrine and calling and how invaluable friendship is, and before service trips I didn't know what it was to humble myself even to those lower on the capitalistic scale than what it was to live in a double-wide trailer.
Before counseling in Alaska I hadn't invested in the lives of youth who needed even incompetent me to help them along like the Ninevites needed Jonah. Before New Mexico, I didn't know what it was to be a minority and to understand how privileged I am to be white in America. Before SF, I didn't understand what it was to value family and how important it is to let your family see you grow.
Before D-town, I didn't thoroughly understand consistency in a walk with Christ, as modeled by Cherie and Jim, and I didn't understand what it means not to let your past dictate who you are, and I didn't understand that transformation and forgiveness doesn't happen all at once, and I didn't understand how to function in this weird stage called adulthood (and still don't, to be honest).
I find great joy in working with my students, with those who really want to succeed. I take joy in watching them do well in other areas, and truth be told, that joy wraps itself through the things with which I'm not so savvy. I wasn't the best at management of a classroom two years back but now I can tell it's improving. I no longer desire to turn right and head east and instead I faithfully turn left every morning, which is the way to school.
I am not sure if I've heard God's call clearly but the thing about retrospect is that you get to see your situation a lot better from its viewpoint. Sometimes I think it's a matter of making a decision, sticking with it, and living Christly where we are and not so much about comparing our lives to how things could have been.
I just want to appreciate the 25 I'm in.
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