2024: Week 4

 

Bob Goff. I have read every book. I follow him religiously on social media. When he visited a church in Murfreesboro I was the first to sign up. I have visited Tom Sawyer Island in Disneyland hoping to see him in his element. He speaks my language and he is definitely an encourager for me. I was so happy that we had a discussion with a podcast from him as a focus in one of my school counseling classes at Lipscomb.

My mind keeps being drawn to a line or two from the podcast…

What makes you come alive?

What do you find yourself doing when you know that is what you were put on earth to do?

As long as I can remember I wanted to be a teacher. When I was a little girl I would arrange my parent’s basement family den into a classroom full of baby dolls, stuffed animals, and Barbies and Kens. I would take attendance, teach ABCs and 123s, and every now and then send someone to the principal’s office. The years just out of college were a dream come true as I had a real classroom of my own with real students ready to learn.

I fast forward through many moves with my husband, a few teaching positions, and then focusing on raising three incredible kids.  Now I find myself right back in the high school where I first started my teaching career. I love it. It is where I belong. But something is gnawing at me.

The student athletes that struggle to make the grades in order to stay on the field come and ask me for help. I am approached by another staff member to help with three seniors that cannot seem to pass chemistry. My planning period is frequented with knocks on my door followed by requests to talk through a problem. The boy that sits by himself at lunch. The girl that hides her pregnancy from her parents but everyone in the hallways know. The new student that does not quite fit in and can’t find a way. All these things call to my heart and demand my attention away from the classroom management, demands of grading, and details of lesson plans.

I want to know the students. I want to be a constant and safe place for them. I want to help them, whether it be in making decisions for their future, growing them academically, or focusing on their social and emotional health.  In becoming a school counselor I am convicted that I can fulfill the purpose I am being called to pursue.  

Do I have fears? Everyday! I am 45 years old. Many of my friends think I am crazy for starting a new chapter now. After all these years, can I really succeed as the student in the classroom??? Especially at the master’s level??? The doubt has led to fear and it has held me back so many times. I also worry that I will be unable to do it. Balancing responsibilities with my family, the demands of my current job, and my assignments and classes can be very stressful, sometimes overwhelming. Just this week as I waited for my youngest to get out of cheer practice, I paced the halls and my mind whirled with how I could fit it all in, not let anyone down, and get everything complete.

The encouragement of my family and a few friends seems to always lighten my load. I am thankful to have them walk beside me and cheer me on through it all. But honestly, there has only ever been one thing that has helped me maneuver through the worry, doubt, and fear. My pride has prompted me to push it aside and postpone it. Stubbornness and my need for control override it time and time again. But every time I relent into the quiet, solitude of prayer with my Father I find an escape from the chaos. The worry and panic that fear and doubt stir up disappear amid the conversations with Him. With the companionship of my family and friends I know I can succeed. The guidance of my advisors and professors will show me the way. But He will be the reason and answer for it all.  

 

2024: Week 3

The ground has been icy and white for almost a week. All the excitement that did exist from the closure of schools and the disruption of the regular has ceased. The kids want normalcy and their routine and freedom. If it was up to me, we would continue with the quiet and solitude. They, and their dad, are all I need. 

My nephew is a photographer. His creativity and eye for a good shot impresses me. I am a proud aunt. He spent the much of the week at home just like everyone else in the mid-state, but he did have his camera and lenses in hand. I am fascinated by his week’s work. 

                                              (Photo credit: Andrew Denning Photography)

When I was growing up I’d sit at a little yellow table in the basement of the house my parents made a home. I would fold pieces of white paper into squares and then snip and clip little designs. My unfolded masterpiece always provided hope of what I anticipated winter days would bring. 

As many times as I made my paper snowflakes, there wasn’t one that ever could compare to the Creator’s handiwork. I gaze at my nephews pictures and I find myself entranced, in awe, speechless. Words don’t do this intricate, carefully designed, God-breathed miracle justice. 

I am grateful for the pause this week. Last week I am honest but ashamed to admit that I wouldn’t have slowed enough to notice a tiny speck of His creation. I hopeful that next week and weeks from now I will remember this snowflake. Maybe if I keep its memory it will be a reminder to notice the marvels of His creation that fill my world. 

The trees that line our creek. The stars that are suspended in the night sky. The chipmunk that makes my back yard his playground. The students that try to blend in with the crowd and quietly shuffle down the hall. The calls that register with the names “momma” or “daddy” on the screen of my cell phone. The overlooked moments with my favorite four.

I want to always remember this snowflake, giving my life in thanksgiving to it's Creator everyday.  

2024: Week 2

It’s the second week of January. Christmas has come and gone. The New Year has rung. The decorations are stored until next November. 

I spoke to our FCA at school a week ago yesterday. Sometimes I spend much of the week preparing for these morning meetings. Other times I may give thought to what I want to share the night before. This time in the silence of my Friday morning driving by the creeks of Auburntown and over the hillsides of Statesville my mind rambled with what to share. 

Pulling into to the parking lot minutes before 7:10am, I jumped out of the Ford, swiped my badge, and power walked the hallways to the gym. Sweet but tired faces filled the room. The speakers usually stand. This morning I pulled a chair to the front, sat down, and took a breath.

I began to talk... 

This day, this Friday, was what some religous people think of as Epiphany...the visit of the Magi...otherwise know as the wisemen...I wonder if there were really just three? I digress.

They visited. They gave gifts. They didn't report back to Herod. 

Days before the shepherds had left their flock. They had witnessed something indescribable.They had seen angels and heard their chorus. They had run to the barn in humble Bethlehem. They had heard the cries. They had knelt before the King. 

We never hear anymore of the story of these wisemen and these shepherds. Scripture continues. But their story...for us it ends.

We anticipate December 25th. We celebrate His birth. We read Luke 2 and rejoice. We open the gifts and we eat lots of food. Our focus is on this Child that became a man and was the King of all Kings and became our Savior. Our focus is on Him. 

A week passes.

And then January 1st comes and it's a new year. It's time to make changes and resolutions. We plan a diet and buy a gym membership. We decide we need to spend more time self reflecting. We make promises to ourselves and speak of new habits and routines and changes. We focus on ourselves. 

What can I do better?

Why should January 1st or March 12th or August 8th or October 30th be any different than December 25th? 

He left Heaven. He became a baby, then a child, then an adolescent (bless Him) and finally a man. He walked this earth, humbly and lowly. He made strangers His friends, sinners His company, and outcasts His friends. Then He went to the cross and died. 

All for us. 

I bet the shepherds were never the same.  On January 1st I bet they could still hear the hallelujahs and see the glory. They were still excited about the cries and had the hope of the King's arrival. They probably didn't make resolutions and buy gym memberships. The wise men knew their focus. It was on Him. 

How can He make all things better?

2024: Week 1

The sounds of the ocean and the waves are the only things to hear. But there are so many things to which to listen. The things swirling in my head. The things that keep me up at night. The things that distract, monopolize the quiet, and tempt me to worry. 

During this year we are about to enter I will be working on my marriage for twenty three years. Many days 2001 seems but just seconds ago, and on others it seems like a repetitive roller coaster that has been going on for centuries. Tears, laughs, travel, kids, counseling, work, play, aging. All with the same man who said he needed to marry me. 

2024 will mark the twentieth year of my work as a mother. No greater joy has ever been given to me other than the joy given by the three kids. Each one has unique qualities and talents that inspire me, teach me, and challenge me. They never disappoint. My deepest regrets are ones that derive from my fear of disappointing them in my mistakes as their mother. 

This year I will continue working in public education. We may be overlooked and under appreciated, but I know we as educators have answered a high calling. I trust the 14 to 17 year olds I teach and coach with the expectancy I have for them to achieve great things. Those great things don’t necessarily mean the highest grades or the worlds take on the most decorated professions. I am speaking of kindness, love of others, humility…the basics of what education should be in a world where those things are hard to come by and have been cheapened. 

The work I have been at the longest is that of a daughter. This past year has been a challenge to watch my parents navigate through. In their mid-seventies, all one wants for their parents is peace, stability, comfort, and belonging…all the things they have provided for me and so many others throughout their lives. My mind swirls around ways to provide for and protect the two that have given me everything that is love and goodness. 

Perhaps my perspective needs to change. 

My work? I have been working? The work I have to do?

God, will you continue to work on me? My life, my marriage, my children, my profession, my parents, my roles and relationships…I lay it down before You. In the noise, in the chaos, in my attempt to control…I have forgotten to give things over to You. Forgive me. Renew me. Quiet my mind. Work on me.