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.

80s Candy

My sister sent me a box of 80s candy. It is fully quipped with Tootsie Rolls and candy necklaces, candy cigarettes and Milk Duds, Sugar Daddys and Sno-Caps.

I didn't want to unpackage the box right away because it had been arranged so nicely. Plus, this candy was for the keepsaker. Was it okay to eat it? Is this like the old baseball card you give away only to find that ten years later they are worth millions, possibly billions, of pennies? If I ate one, was it okay to eat them all?

All these thoughts crossed my mind as I started with the Smarties and moved on to the Chewey Sprees. Today my energy is a little lower than normal. It's strange. It's like I need a little 80s candy to kick start my day. The box is a third gone. Okay, it's half gone.

Oh I just realized something.

They left out Pez.

Sunny Deceptions

Today is deceptively sunny. I mean, the heat is deceptive. There is an absence of it, and as the sun shone through my heavy curtains, I woke up thinking, "It is a lovely day, everyone!" I nearly hummed away the morning while scrubbing my bathroom floor and wiping windows. Just call me Cinderella. I texted some friends, read Thought Catalog, and continued reading a current book that I'm too ashamed of announcing here. It's one my book club students wanted to read. I tried to persuade them differently: "Are you sure you don't want to read Night Circus this month?"
They didn't.
Anyway, my room looked like a glorious place, beams illuminating strips of my blue wall. I tied the curtains back and let it shine full force. I even danced around to the Beatles' version of "And Then I Kissed Her."
My joy escalated, and soon I was putting on a light spring jacket and tennis shoes. I pondered by my door for a moment. Should I bring my thin mittens or no? Mmmmm. Nah.
Before I left I ran into Jim. "Hey, what's the weather like?"
"It's freezing."
"Yeah right. The sun is shining, Jim." He is sometimes hard to read, sarcastic as they come.
"Nope. It's 20 degrees out there."
But it's sunny.
I guess it's also still February.
But the groundhog saw its shadow.
I guess that was only a couple weeks ago.

It was a frustrating battle. I shouldn't have even tried to go outside. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Okay, one last thing. I realize that 20 degrees isn't that bad and that I've been acclimated to Indiana weather.

At 25

Mom, age 25

Kearsen, Mikey, and Laurissa
6, 4, and 2
On our way to Montanta
Colorado didn't work out
The army didn't at least
And besides, Spencer needs help
On the farm

And I? Well
There's an opening at Bears
Flying J
I won't mind that work I think
Kearsen'll go to kindergarten
Mikey to preschool
Lissey to the babysitter

It'll work out just fine
I'm sure of it




I couldn't have been the loving mom that you were, Mom, not at 25.

Problems

Having problems is like using leach therapy to change your health. Problems drain you, emotionally or mentally or however, but in turn they change you in little ways, and hopefully you become a healthier and more understanding person. Likewise, if you let the problem/leech fester too long, then you've got more problems.

At this point in the conflict plot line the housewives of New Jersey would probably flip tables to get attention, or they would halt all conflict/resolution by saying, "Blood's thicker than wata." And very soon after that they would go back to their own lives and find other ways to prove themselves, like writing a tell all book or procreating and signing those children up for acting lessons.

Confession: I know too much about Housewives of New Jersey.

Don't be like those people.

Allow yourself to have problems, but move past them quickly because you will have them everywhere you go, big or small.

While laying in bed, I was thinking of stuff and then I was thinking of things, and then I realized that, wow, if I wasn't thinking of this stuff and these things, then I'd probably fret over other little things, like how I never mailed a letter back to that camper from 4 years ago (but really, someone has to stop the letter writing at some point. Right? No? Should I write her back?).

And so I hope you can see the never ending cycle. Society says, yes, beat yourself up for not meeting that other person at a certain status. But the Lord says, you will screw up. You sin. It's what you do. "I am the way." You can either spend your life trying to pay a penance for it or you can accept forgiveness, forgive yourself, forgive others, and move on.


Note: Self help books weird me out. So does Dr. Phil.

A More Perfect Union

Public communication in the US in recent years has been a little tense. You hear it everywhere. "The Republicans are stuffy..." or "The Democrats have a plan destined to fail...." and thus a number of Americans, regardless of their political beliefs, seem to be fed up with the bickering. As am I.

Bickering doesn't solve issues. It irritates them. It festers and wounds more fully. I understand that for adequate change to occur in this country, parties have to be kept in check. Policies are never perfect. Americans have to keep questioning the man. I would cry if we stopped sticking it to the man. If you are the man, then that's what you get, naturally. 

However, we should not deduce our communication to passive aggressive Twitter posts and eye rolling. I get that we are fed up and that nothing seems solved definitely and that promised tax rebates may not happen this year, but my goodness, let's vie for something instead of nothing. 

I feel very privileged to be living in this country. I have a voice. I have a heart. I have a good church and job and home, and I can't foresee any of that being taken away immediately by money being cut a little short. 

Maybe if some money is taken away from Americans we'll look a little more to our neighbors. Or better yet, maybe we'll BE the neighbors people need. 

How about we don't get to bicker and complain if we don't do anything for our neighbor. 

The moment you start doing is the moment you get a voice. 

Disclaimer: I understand this post presents a very idealized perspective...utopian almost...and I don't expect news sources to tone down sensationalism or the average American to change in a day, but maybe we don't have to be such a pain to get a more perfect Union. 

To be understood

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood." - George Orwell