Lazarus Heart

I thought of how every day each of us experiences a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments – we hear a word that sticks in our mind – or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly…we would realize that we have been having another life altogether; one we didn't even know was going on inside us.  –Douglas Coupland

We often say, one day at a time but I say, one moment at a time.  A day, all 24 hours is packed with so many planned and unplanned events.  So, I suggest you have the overview of the day, but take it in small steps, one moment at a time.  –Eveth Colley

Last week:  It’s Wednesday.  I’m leaving work right around 6, and the sun is peeking out after what seems like a year of hiding.  I am grateful.  It’s been a long week full of emotional triggers that have been hard to check at the door, and the week is only half over.  The sun, warm on my face and stinging my eyes through the windshield is like a tangible ray of hope, Shirley Temple style.

Unlike most days of the week, I have a passenger.  A small fourth grader occupies my backseat, his green and black coat tossed haphazardly across the seat, his backpack tucked between his feet.  I give this nervous boy a lift home once or twice a week – his mom doesn't have a car.  Despite the small inconvenience of the trip, on days like today when I have too much on my mind, I welcome the distraction.  I’m learning to find hope in my students too.

This particular boy always wants us to be first out of the parking lot, but I've never asked him why.  Rarely do I pull out of my parking spot before my boss, and he exhales an audible sigh of disappointment in the back.  “Man, she’s going to beat us.”  This day is no different; we are second.

He comments all the way down the road on how far ahead her white hatchback seems – will we ever catch up?  He wants me to drive faster.  His excitement is palpable as we pull up to the stop light and wait to turn – we are directly behind her.  I honk and she joins in the fun, playing a modified peek a boo game in her rear view mirror.  As the light turns green, I say out loud, “I’m not sure we’re going to make this light.”  The green doesn't last long and we are barely positioned within the turn lane.  I hear my student plead, “Please stay green, come on, come on, stay green.”

It’s not until later, as I reflect on my week and all it has held, that I wonder – why was he so intent for the light to stay green?  Who was he pleading to?  I remember being a kid and doing the very same, the promise of a game continued was exciting.  I wasn't concerned with how long the game would last; I only wanted to keep it going.  As we sailed through the still green light and his cheers of success leaked out the car’s cracked windows, I was struck by the simplicity of his request and the joyous result when it was granted.

The more I chew on this experience, the more I see God in it.  As I fought my way though each day last week, feeling the strain of life, I felt as if I were trudging through knee deep mud.  But I was reminded in this interaction that God desires to give us good gifts.  He hears every whispered request, no matter how big or how small, and he is overjoyed that we would come to Him and ask.  But we need to ask.  What a privilege to see a request so immediately answered, a game continued, a memory made.  I have no way of knowing how such a small interaction may have changed this small boy’s view of the world, or his relationship with us as leaders, but I am grateful for having been a part of it.

I've always been told that working with students isn’t just about you teaching them – it’s about them teaching you.  I was reminded not to be afraid to ask for what I need, no matter how big or how small.  It doesn't matter how urgently I ask, or how loudly, what matters is that I ask and then watch, in hope and expectation, for the answer.

Walking Two Moons

Eating, and hospitality in general, is a communion, and any meal worth attending by yourself is improved by the multiples of those with whom it is shared.  - Jesse Browner

A life of hospitality begins in worship, with a recognition of God's grace and generosity.  Hospitality is not first a duty and responsibility; it is first a response of love and gratitude for God's love and welcome to us.  - Christine Pohl

Today, I didn't vacuum the floor.  There are still little piles of dirt hanging out throughout the apartment, tracked in as snow melted and the ground stuck to the bottom of my Chuck Taylors.

Today, I didn't play catch up on work.  Despite two snow days, I feel like there are so many moving parts, so many what ifs, that I'm in a perpetual state of catch up.

Today, I didn't go grocery shopping, or put gas in the car.  I didn't clean the bathroom or do laundry or take care of the recycling.

Instead, I hosted one of my best friends for coffee.  We talked about life, ours and the new one she's carrying inside her.  We laughed and connected, talking of the past and the future.  I realized how refreshing it is to start my day with honesty.

Today, I laughed with a friend over terrible games of bowling, each of us taking turns barely breaking 100.  My skills, or perhaps lack there of, got teased by friend and stranger alike.  I tried sushi, good sushi, for the first time and marveled over the different textures found in similar looking rolls of rice.  I fumbled with chopsticks and giggled over inadequacies.

Today, I celebrated a student's birthday with her and her family in their home.  I ate homemade tamales and looked at family pictures eagerly shared.  I made new friends and smiled until my face hurt.  I left with plates of food and a small headache from trying to keep up with the Spanish flying between family members.  My belly, and my heart, are full.

Today, I didn't check one single thing off my "to-do" list, but I did connect with important people in my life.  I played and laughed and was reminded of the simple joy of being together, as friends and as strangers.  I experienced a beautiful picture of hospitality and a caring for one another in a way that is often lost admist the hustle and bustle of daily life.

As I sit and reflect on the day, I am reminded at how important it is to spend time with one another.  Being an introvert and living alone allows me to get comfortable with myself - that in itself is not a bad thing.  But it also breeds complacency, and I sometimes find that I seek solace in myself, by myself, instead of with others.  I realize it can be easy for me to forget how much I need community in my life.

Although I'm a few days late, perhaps I will spend this Lenten season investing myself in the company of others.  During this time of renewal and preparation, I desire to draw closer to the Lord daily.  Many times, like today, it is in the company of others where His presence is most noticeable.  Even though these interactions are likely to be uncomfortable or inconvenient at times, I am hoping to see the Lord in each of them.

How are you renewing yourself during this season of Lent?

When I Don't Feel Beautiful

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.  -Confucius

I want this space to be somewhere where I can be real and honest.  I want to put my thoughts out there, as I believe there is power in making oneself heard.  Sometimes the hardest step is giving voice to a challenge.

What is it about how women are wired that we constantly find ourselves engaging in negative self talk?  I've noticed it more and more in myself recently and I don't like it.  Here's a [gracefully redemptive] example.

A few Fridays ago, we had our biggest fundraiser of the year at work.  This event brings in 1/3 of the operating budget of our organization, and there are a lot of influential people that attend.  This being my first year on staff, I had little idea of what to truly expect.  But I knew that I wanted to look the part.

We cancelled program with the kids for the day, since the event was moved to a Friday this year.  LA and I spent a few hours in the morning moving things and generally rushing around, getting set up.  My one job was the powerpoint for the event.  I was charged with creating two - one to play it in the background during the mix and mingle, and one to list the live auction items during the event.  They looked awesome [in my humble opinion] and I was proud of my work.  A few hours before go time, I'm at the computer reviewing and making final touches, only to discover the first show won't play and loop automatically.  Even now I don't know what the problem was.  I'm not especially technically minded but I can usually figure things out given enough time.  I realized I created the show on a newer version of software than what is on the computer I'm using, and I do everything I can think of to make it work.  Finally, after no positive results, I resolve to take it home and see if I can run it off my laptop.

During my two hour break between set up and the event, I find not only can I not fix the show, but the IT guy can't offer any help either.  I had spent about 45 minutes troubleshooting only to see I was going to have to recreate the 50 slide show in the older version of software.  Game, set, match.  Technology 1, me 0.

All the "excitement" set me back quite a bit in terms of time and I jump in the shower 15 minutes before I'm due back at work.  I wash my hair quickly and, rather than dry it like I planned, I desperately try and get it to stay in a bun.  At one point, as I'm twisting wet hair into a knot on my head, my arms aching from being above my head for a little two long, the clip I'm trying to use slipping from my damp fingers, I almost cry out in sheer frustration.  I drop my hands and plead aloud that this comes together quickly.  I'm supposed to be at work right now.

I finally get the majority of my hair pulled back and I'm pinning some loose pieces in place as I catch myself thinking:

"This isn't turning out at all like you planned."

"People are going to know you don't belong here."

"Everyone will know you don't know what you're doing and you're trying too hard."

"Your hair is wet and your makeup is rushed and you don't look pretty."

Whoa, stop right there.

I was lucky this time.  Finally, I am able to recognize these negative comments and know that they are not true.  I'm not exactly sure where the change and recognition actually happened.  It used to be that I would hear the negative and know that it wasn't ok, but I couldn't give voice to anything else.  The negative would just sit there, acknowledged as wrong but not truly defied.  It wasn't challenged; it wasn't corrected.  It was at some point during my trip to Nicaragua, and shortly after I returned, that I began to see myself as the Lord sees me.

When I look in the mirror, I see an average girl, with hair that needs a trim and bangs that are too long.  She doesn't have the best skin, but overall she's alright.  Maybe her clothes don't fit exactly right, a little big in places, and there's a slight fold throughout her middle when she bends at the waist.  I see a girl who has big dreams but isn't always sure how to achieve them.  And it doesn't matter how hard I try not to put any stock in physical appearance, I care.  Although I appreciate my body and celebrate what it does for me every day, I can be honest in saying that sometimes I want to look a certain way.  Usually this ideal image does not match up to reality [does it ever?].

I find more and more than I am quick to remind myself and take comfort in knowing that when my Father looks at me, He is delighted.  He is overjoyed at what he has created and he sees that it is good.  The complexities of our physical bodies is awe-inspiring, and the intricacy with which everything works together blows my mind.  I remind myself that He knows me so well that "without the will of my Father in Heaven, not a hair can fall from my head."  [Heidelberg Catechism].  He sees into my heart and knows my dreams.  He knows the places in my life where I struggle or lack discipline.  He knows my insecurities.  And He loves me anyway.

And in that moment, staring into the mirror, I work hard at trying not to find my worth in the frustration of hair that won't stay up and makeup that I use to cover up insecurities.  As I watch myself try and step into this role I think I need to fill, He stops me.  And He speaks to me in a way that I never expected, audibly, through my own voice.  I look at myself in the mirror and I say, "Thank you that I don't have to be beautiful to anyone but You, and to You I am always beautiful."

And I know it's true.

Exciting news

So...I've got some pretty exciting news to share.

Starting last week, I began blogging for a local family magazine called Growing up in the Valley.  This young company is family owned and highlights activities in the area devoted to families.  Make sure to check out the magazine here.

I've titled my blog...

While the gig is unpaid, I'm excited to get some exposure but most importantly, to keep writing!  I've been looking for a creative outlet for some time, something that doesn't take a lot of stuff.  I enjoy crafting and creating art, but my small living space (and budget) don't really allow me to collect much.  

Here's an excerpt from my first posting - 

I’ve lived in this town my whole life.  That’s 26 years of familiar streets and faces.  Being purposeful about the way I spend my time, and reflecting on the little things that present themselves each day, gives this city a magic I long thought was lost.  When I travel, it’s easy to marvel at the simplest of tasks, to see the new and exciting.  But to seek out the small within the familiar can often be a challenge. 

I want to notice and document the tiny gifts I’m given amidst the frenzied life I all too often find myself in.  Hours and days are lost in the quick pace our culture encourages, and it all can become mundane quickly if we don’t open our eyes to the small things that make up the bigger picture. 

I responded to Growing Up In The Valley when I heard they were looking for bloggers because I believe I have a unique view on the world.  Usually, it isn’t hard for me to notice the little gifts I am presented with each day.  But as life picks up increasing speed sometimes I forget to look.  I want to foster a habit of being aware and open to the tiny treasures that are too often overlooked.  Regardless of the haphazard construction of our “nests”, they are beautiful and each twig is carefully placed exactly where it needs to be.  Sometimes appreciation just means taking a step back, seeing how the small pieces fit together and create the big picture.

So there ya go.  Check it out every Saturday (and maybe more).  I will continue to write here and hope you will join me on this new adventure!

Rushing Into Stillness

I have felt the stress of busyness lately.  The weekend left no room for rest, and I started the week strung high on adrenaline.  There's a countdown to the end of this week.  A countdown to rest, to a break from the routine.  

I unexpectedly found a break this evening, returning home to my parents house to assess the meaning of a bright orange light on my dashboard.  The additional bonus was grabbing a sleeping bag to cover me while I sleep outside the door of 12 or so of my female students as we celebrate the end of the semester with a lock in.  

Guiding the car up the gravel driveway, feeling every inch of its quarter-mile length, I notice a bright light on the horizon.  I stop, thinking briefly that it's a neighbor's Christmas lights.  But my parents have no neighbors.  It's only once I fully stop, and even reverse a bit, do I see the source of the light.  The moon.

I hurry the rest of the way up the hill, put the car in park, and head to the back deck.  The night is still.  A type of stillness that I grew up with but that, lately, has escaped me.  The weight of silence is familiar yet foreign, the night seems poised somewhere between surrender and expectation.

The moon hangs low, bright and full.  I feel the weight of it and it glows a color that isn't quite gold but isn't quite yellow.  I have no name for the color and my inability to capture its beauty leaves me wanting.

There is no wind, the only sounds come from the occasional bark of a distant dog or the whoosh of a car.  The trees, bent by the wind, stand like old soldiers, keeping watch over the rising moon.  Their dark forms break up the horizon.  Even the sky is a consistent shade of indigo, scattered with stars.

The air is cool and clean.  I find not much other than my hands are chilled, a blessing as usually I am quick to be cold.  Just the act of breathing is renewing, and I feel somehow less burdened by life.  I watch as blinking planes carry people to far off places and think about my own upcoming adventure.

I am looking forward to being able to live in the moment, a task that somehow seems easier when one is outside of things familiar.  I have been keeping my eyes open for the small things, and have had a few returns on my investment.  But still I wonder - what am I missing in the daily living, not because I fail to look but because I fail to truly pay attention?

I am the luckiest

I have spent my morning lingering over coffee, curled on the couch reading for hours.  There was a half marathon in town today that ran though my neighborhood so I decided to delay any outings.  To sit and be has been so refreshing.

Even now, sitting on the couch I glance out the window and see bright and clear blue sky.  The green of the tall evergreens is stark against the blue.  The sun streams in, brightening the side of the house across the street.  Never before has it seemed so white, the trim of the windows so bold.  The tree outside my window waves a few leftover leaves at me, wind whistles under the roof of the porch like a swarm of insects.  The day looks warm, but I am not fooled - 50 degrees is still cold in my book.

Like this morning, yesterday truly was a day of small things.

I got some things done at the office, donning comfy clothes [cause it's Friday] and a second cup of coffee.  I was able to finish up a few projects I had going and, while things are always going on and up in the air, I ended my office time feeling satisfied.

I got to spend the afternoon with my [mostly] sweet students, laughing and eating crunchy noodles from atop a plastic bag, listening as small voices joined together to thank God before they began eating.

We danced through traffic, arms waving about our heads and our bodies bouncing in the seats, on our way to the bank for them to deposit their money.  Upon parking the van I see a familiar face making her way into the bank.  Honking gets me 10 minutes with my old college roommate, catching up with my van of students looking on and growing restless.  While they were waiting to go in, everyone stood outside in a parking space playing Simon Says and eating suckers.  We were barely in the car when it started to sprinkle.

As I drove a few of my students home, I got asked some pretty heavy questions.  What is cancer?  What is HIV?  How do you get them?  Why did Chris Brown hit Rihanna?  Is he in jail?  It's amazing the things 4th and 5th graders bring up, and I find the perspective of my ELL students to be the most interesting.  [Over Halloween, the big concern was poisoned candy, where it came from, how it got poisoned and why].  Although things can be hard to explain, and I certainly don't want to give answers that cause too much distress, I feel honored to be a part of the conversation.

As soon as I got home, I checked movie times and made the quick decision to go see a movie.  I had asked a few friends to join me earlier in the week but we couldn't all get together.  I saw About Time, and was actually glad that I saw it alone.  It's refreshing, sometimes, to do things alone.  After the movie was over, I chatted with another lady who had also come alone.  We talked outside the theatre for at least a half hour.

The drive home was quiet and warm for this time of year.  The moon was hanging low, bigger than I've seen in a while.  Almost perfectly round except for a sliver at the top, covered by a dark, thin cloud.  I tried to find a good spot to grab a picture, but couldn't; it would have never looked like the real thing anyway.

I've been trying to pay attention to the small things.  I want to be a noticer.  An appreciator.  It's got to be a habit; too much get lost in the daily grind.  The only want to make a habit is to practice, I suppose.

Amidst tears and word cards

I'll admit, most of my students are enigmas to me.  Having only been on the job for a few months, and noting that this is a very different population than I'm used to working with, I spend a good bit of time learning to communicate with my students and then processing what I've learned.

Today was no different.  There is one student who has sporadic attendance in our program, and would rather choose to constantly run around, do cartwheels and turn circles rather than do homework.  My boss had a meeting with his teacher and mom today [I would have been there too if I hadn't gotten up late...oops] and I gained a little more insight into his life.

There is a slew of challenges going on in this child's life both at school and at home, and getting the background made the daily grind a little easier.  After getting the run down on the meeting, I spent the better part of my day making word cards.  He is surprisingly good in math but struggles in reading and spelling.  LA [my boss] and I hoped that by making letters cards and word matching, he would be more apt to study.  We hoped that giving him something to move, something to put his hands on, would entice him a bit.

Today was not his best day, and about an hour into program he was frustrated and crying [and it wasn't even related to homework!].  After a little coercion, he finally worked with me on the word cards.  There is a lot of work to be done, and I do not have a hard time envisioning more frustration and tears, but he seemed to enjoy the work.

I'll admit - working at my computer all day and putting together these activities for him was tedious.  By the end of it my shoulders hurt, my legs were restless, and it felt like I had wasted a day doing nothing but cutting paper.  For the last few weeks I've been working on individualized activities for my students to do once they finish their homework.  With more than 25 students in 9 different schools, I've been spending a lot of time in front of a computer.  The work seems to be never ending and I didn't realize how tiring it can be.

But watching him work today was the reward.  I wasn't sure he would be on board with the activities but he seemed to enjoy them [as much as he could in his current emotional state].

There are so many things going on in the lives of my students, and sometimes I forget they are just kids.  I'm still learning a ton every day, but I'm lucky enough to have students and a boss who give me grace each day as I fumble my way.  I know there are more long days ahead, more mistakes, more tears and frustration [from my students or me?].  But I know it all works for good, and I hope I get some insight one day into the long term effect.

Knee Deep

I'm feeling knee deep in various projects.  I'm working on individualized SOL folders for my [28] students, plus the daily operations of our program.  I'm tutoring a second grader twice a week, trying to make homework interesting.  I'm seeking out opportunities to write.  I'm leading preschool play dates.  I'm delving head first into books, something I haven't done for quite some time.  I'm preparing for another [short] trip out of the country.  I'm meeting friends for dinner, teaching Sunday school, chatting with Jesus over coffee and coming to some realizations about myself and what I want.

My life is full.

I spend a good portion of my evenings contemplating worksheet ideas for my students, researching projects, drinking tea, reading and learning from others.  My students are not too happy about our new academic focus and really, who can blame them?  I'm still fumbling along blindly - I have no formal education or experience as an educator.  I get that they've sat in school all day and sometimes the last place they want to be is with me in after school, particularly the middle school students.  This project is in its infancy and worksheets are the go-to.  Hormones are raging and attitudes are sharp, and some days I feel like I spend more time defending than anything else.  There are days I feel incredibly overwhelmed and inadequate.  Is this really how it's supposed to go?

Despite the busy, the insufficient, the push back, I see the gift.  I see the small and the lovely, the special and cherished.  It comes wrapped in laughter as I tutor, causing us to lose all focus.  It comes in the face of a preschooler as he sticks is hand in paint and proudly smooshes it onto his paper.  It comes in strangers helping me load boxes of food to feed my students.  It comes in motivation and in falling exhausted into bed each evening.  It comes in the quiet and in the noise.

In light of that idea, I'm contemplating a shift on the blog.  Perhaps a new web address and title will roll out soon, providing a place for intentional reflection on the gifts I receive each day.

And boy, are those gifts abundant!