September Thoughts

It is now the third week of school, therefore the honeymoon is officially over, the gloves are off, et al. Nevertheless, as my students settle in and begin to show their true personalities, I’m overcome with how much joy they bring me. I am so grateful for all the lives that are a part of my life. Below are a few laughable examples of why I don’t mind the sound of my alarm clock … most days.

I have assigned my high school students the task of recreating the constitutional framer of their choice’s journal during the time of the Constitutional Convention. One such student shared their work so far with me yesterday. I learned that Thomas Jefferson not only had an alarm clock, but also rode to the convention in a taxi. The following day, he ate cereal and borrowed a suit from a neighbor, naturally, since he forgot to drop his own suit off at the dry cleaner’s. No complaints – the student is making a noble and imaginative effort.

At lunch Tuesday, I confiscated a switchblade comb from an elementary student. Before I realized it was a comb, visions of a crumpled bleeding body on the floor of our lunchroom aged me a few years. The owner of this novelty item crossed my path again later in the day when he left his classroom and appeared to be choking. I was immediately concerned, but soon discovered he was breathless with laughter, and also noticed he was carrying his chair. I got distracted, but went to investigate a few minutes later. I assumed he had been sent to the hallway because he was misbehaving in class. However, I couldn’t find him in the hallway. Soon, I heard stifled laughter, and found this young man behind the door in a dark bathroom. He was sitting in his chair with books open - accomplishing nothing as it was dark - but quite pleased with his cleverness.

We enrolled four siblings this year, one is in the elementary class, but the other three are mine, and they are magnificent. I wish I could clone them. However, the endearing mischievous nature of my veteran students is starting to rub off on them. This was evidenced by the oldest boy in the family repeatedly setting the alarm clock on another student’s desk. I couldn’t get mad, because it was funny – especially when the student whose desk it was couldn’t begin to comprehend why or how that radio was coming on all by itself.

Finally, a student came running into my office at lunch time on Thursday (I love that they are undaunted by the “principal’s office”) to inform me that he decided to change his name to whatever country his finger landed on when he rolled the globe. Unfortunately, that country was Iran. I counseled him against this decision.

Do I often want to beat my head against a wall after I’ve gone over the same instructions 15 times? Yes. But, a long time ago I asked God to put love in my heart for the young people I work with, and He’s done just that. At the end of the day, whatever mishap, mistake, or misunderstanding may have occurred, I count it all joy. I have the privilege of showing them how to get it right tomorrow … for the 16th time.

Free and undeserved

"You can't outrun grace." Yes, it's a lyric from a song. I heard the song the other day and those four words resonated with me. It probably means a thousand different things to a thousand different people. To me, it just means I am loved unconditionally and my mistakes are not only forgiven, but also forgotten. Remembering that truth is the best part of my day. So why is it often so hard to offer it to others?

I received an apology from someone today. I knew what they had done, but didn't care. I can honestly say they were forgiven when it happened, and long before they thought to ask for forgiveness. I can also honestly say I have not always behaved in such a gracious manner.

How many movie plots are based upon one character not forgiving another over some small mistake or misconception? This is the situation Hollywood is built on - the skeleton in the closet, I dated your sister 13 years ago, accidentally ran over your cat, missed chance, miscommunication, just add B actors, instant plot.

We sit in the audience and watch the break up unfold, and we cringe. We think how ridiculous it is that they're not together. We are astonished over the foolishness of the individual holding back their forgiveness. However, are there people in our lives we haven't forgiven for far more trivial, although non-fiction, things?

As I write this I am scouring my life, looking for hidden grudges. I am expanding my search to people I don't see or hear from on a regular basis, and now I'm on to people I've never even met. I admit I'm not always pleased with the decisions made by our nation's leaders, I may even become angry with them. Chances are, not one of them will be sending me an e-mail or picking up the phone to ask my forgiveness for their shortcomings. It's unlikely these individuals will ever admit to having shortcomings. So, why don't I just sit back, unload my worries on the one who's offered to carry them for me, and forgive people before they even have the chance to know they're wrong. It's not my job to sit back and judge their actions anyway.

I write this now, I'm sure I'll forget it soon enough. But, if I remember to practice it here and there, it could make a difference. Think how short romantic comedies would be if forgiveness was just poured out up front.

We can't outrun God's grace, so why make others chase after ours?

It must be love ...

I have numerous very good reasons for not posting for almost two weeks. School started this week, which is the root of most of the reasons. It is also the reason I'm multitasking tonight. By that I mean that I am blogging and preparing a chapel message for tomorrow at the same time.

I'm confident most have heard the story about the young man that dropped all his books while walking home from school. Several students laughed and pointed, and none of them offered to help - routine behavior for his peers. However, one boy did eventually cross the street and helped pick up the books. They walked home together and were friends throughout junior high and high school. On graduation day, the boy who dropped the books stepped onto the stage to give his valedictorian address. In his speech he recognized his best friend, and confessed that the day they'd met six years before was the day he'd planned to kill himself. I don't know if this account is based on actual events, but every time it finds its way into my inbox, I am reminded of the magnitude of importance our actions, or inactions, possess.

My chapel message for tomorrow will come out of Romans 12 - we'll be talking about love. It is simple, but complex. Desired, but not always deserved. You can see that my challenge in relaying love's importance to young people is making them understand the depth of what love actually is.

I can scoop up a toddler and put a bandage on a scraped knee easy enough, but can I smile and be patient with the chatty individual ahead of me in the check-out line? I can help a family member through a trial because I love them and I'm invested in their future, but can I do the same for a stranger whose circumstances and personality I am not familiar with? Simple, meet complex.

I can accept the graciousness and generosity of my family and my Savior, but I can't earn it. Desire, meet undeserving.

When I was young, I thought love was a Disney movie. I thought it was a hug. Not until adulthood did I see that love is not an emotion or action we save for just those closest and dearest to us - it is how we are to act toward every single person we come in contact with, and it is usually expressed in the most casual ways.

Romans 12 instructs us to honor others above ourselves, practice hospitality, bless those who persecute us, be willing to associate with people of low position. Here's a tough one: Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. Everybody. Not just your pastor, not just your grandma on Sundays when she takes you to church. Everybody. All the time.

I've been really busy lately with good stuff, but as I sit here at 10:00 on a school night (gasp) I wonder how much of my business includes following all those instructions in Romans 12. When I'm in the middle of some seemingly crucial task and the phone rings, am I being patient and exuding love to the soul on the other end? Am I being careful to do what is right? If not, what kind of impression am I leaving?

Simple actions make bold statements.

Pioneers: The first purpose-driven lives

I am a morning person. I meant to write a post on this topic yesterday and never got around to it. I'm so glad I didn't. I woke up this morning, started a pot of coffee (Savannah Seduction from the Paula Deen collection - you should try it), and looked out the back door. It's been mercifully cool here the past two days, and this morning the temperature was just low enough to pull a swirling mist out of the lake. The wind was blowing gently, pushing water toward our dock and causing the tall reeds on the far shore to sway. The same breeze permeated the branches of the oak trees, putting a million leaves in motion and even sending some fluttering to the ground and water beneath. Generally speaking, my backyard was on par with a scene from a Nicholas Sparks movie.

I opened up our day care yesterday morning. We open at 6:30, which means I was up at five and out the door by six. The drive into town got me thinking on this subject: As much as I love to sleep, I love a quiet, still morning that much more. There is a confounding mixture of peace and majesty right before the sun comes up that I love to be a part of. Add to it the aroma of strong coffee and I'm blissfully happy.

I have mostly fond memories of the wee morning hours. Growing up, our family vacations always commenced in the pre-dawn darkness. Likewise, our Christmas mornings have never seen the light of the sun. Even while working long summer days at the National Interagency Fire Center after my first year of college, the 6:30 a.m. clock-in time was met with laughter and in the company of one of my best friends.

There's more to it than positive associations, though. Mornings are filled with possibility. Everything is new. Those are qualities not shared by other times of the day. Historically speaking, mornings were most important – the entire day’s success pivoted on what was accomplished before the sun was even up. Failure to literally seize the day resulted in catastrophe and waste on a farm or other primitive place of commerce.

Every branch of my father's family tree made the trek from the eastern United States to the mountains of Idaho in the late 1800's. His maternal grandfather lost his first wife and three children along the way. Harsh winters can last eight months in that already rugged country, which was at that time (and now, come to think of it) sparsely populated. Nevertheless, my ancestors hacked out homes, started families, and became successful founding citizens of what would become our nation's 43rd state (1890). I consider my day's productivity to be wrecked if the Internet is running slowly.

In spite of that fault, I do hope my a.m.-adeptness is something passed down from my pioneer ancestors. On childhood camping trips I would wake in the tent or camper that was damp with dew. I would smell the fire right before recognizing its crackling sound mixed in with clanging pots and pans. My dad would already be up working on his "Mountain Man Breakfast." Stepping out into the crisp and pure mountain air of Idaho - you have no idea - you literally feel your lungs being cleansed. The rustle of pine needles underfoot, the burble of a meandering stream nearby, the call of birds, the smell of coffee percolating in a tin pot, and the sight of distant rocky peaks that tell you just how small you are. This is purely my assumption, but those have to be the small joys cherished by the hard workers I came from.

I sit back and picture a great-grandfather stepping outside a cabin of rough-hewn timber. It's early, their body is sore, but they have a hot be it meager breakfast in their stomach. They look to the east and see the faint promise of sunshine making its way up the backside of what I believe to be the most perfect landform created by God. They button another button on a coat or pull gloves onto chapped hands and then take a deep breath and start out. Inside they have a knowledge that whatever they accomplish that day, little or much, it's that much more done and it's a measure of work they can be proud of because they started early and with purpose.

Clever Title

Accomplishment: Something that has been achieved successfully.

Today is my 27th birthday. I'm in full swing analytical mode looking back over the 23 years I remember well. I've succeeded at a lot of things, I have failed at others. I ran my first 5K race this past weekend. It was something I had wanted to do for some time, and I feel really great about having done it. I finished college, a degree hangs on my office wall. I attempted to adopt children and backed out. I tried to buy a house, several actually, and never made it to closing. I've written a book, but haven't had it published. I could continue to list successes, near successes, and failures, but no more is necessary to make my point.

Above my bed hangs a sign: “Blessed is the life that finds joy in the journey.” Life's mixture of attempts, missed chances, triumphs, and let downs are what make up a lifetime of rich memories. They are what make a person. Forced experience never ends up being all that rewarding or memorable, but a chance encounter, an unexpected experience, a stolen laugh, the unmerited opportunity to be a light for another soul, those make up the well-woven tapestry of a life.

When Krystal, Rebekah, Cynthia, and I were in New York in January, it wasn’t the expertly planned and executed moments that were the most enjoyable. Instead, a second trip to Junior’s for cheesecake and a table full of diabetic coma-inducing desserts in Little Italy are my favored memories … and it’s merely a coincidence that they happen to revolve around food.

1 Peter 2:9: But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness and into his wonderful light.

When push comes to shove, every accomplishment and every moment of life are gifts from above. We are allowed to have them because of his grace. We are a “chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God” for the sole purpose of glorifying him. I live in the light! And not because I found it on my own. He led me to it, and when I stray into darkness, he plugs in a nightlight for me. How can I not live my life for his glory?

I dub myself an overachiever, and I am a person satisfied by work well done. I have goals and plans, among them are running a full marathon, publishing books, marrying a man who loves me, having children of my own and adopting more, making a home, growing a school, and seeing the world. But before any of these, I have the goal of molding and shaping a life that is in keeping with the commands and will of my Lord.

The most comfortable clothes I own are the ones that are stained and frayed, and have been in a dresser drawer for a quarter or more of my existence. Similarly, the people I most enjoy being with are the ones that have been walking beside me, and I by them, through the food fights and mountain tops of life. In this vein, I hope that the accomplishments I treasure most are the ones that point to Him. Like paint-splattered jeans and old friends, they might not look like much, but they mean a lot to me, and one other person.

Spiritual Geography

“It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.” Ephesians 1:11

Mountains and valleys, friends. Mountains and valleys. Every human has both. Looking back over a few of the valleys I've been in, I see an image of myself with a shovel in my hand. Do we dig our own at times?

I've always considered myself to be an "up by the bootstraps" kind of gal. However, when I really hold a light close, I see that I have occasionally managed to kick myself while I was down. Who needs enemies when you have yourself? How do I manage to do this? I have several favored methods, but here is a prize-winning example.

When presented with an opportunity I often jump to the most preposterous negative circumstance I can imagine and will let it intimidate me. I am proud to say, I do usually go through with said opportunity, but not without a lot of unnecessary anxiety. A hilarious example of this occurred just this past weekend. I was looking for a 5K and found a trail run in Austin. I haven't trained for trail running (yet), so it was a poor choice anyway, but ahead of determining that, I was actually wasting brain cells worrying about mountain lions. That's right. Mountain lions. There have been four attacks in 100 years, none of them fatal, in this particular park in the Austin area. Pretty slim odds, right? Doesn't matter, my mind left all actual logic behind and was 1,000 miles ahead fashioning a weapon out of a fallen pine branch to protect myself from the feline beast, which is sure to uncharacteristically show up and choose to attack me out of 300 runners. If I were ready for trail running, I would have talked myself down and gone to this race. But, why do I even go looking for these fears?

I find the worst valleys are the ones where we have forgotten the truth in Ephesians 1:11. My mountain lion fear was not a valley, but it is an instance where I took my eyes off Jesus. Peter did that once, too.

I know myself pretty well. God knows me better, which is why I should listen to Him more, and others less. When I feel myself on the slippery edge and can look down and see a descent in front of me, it’s never His voice I’m hearing, it’s usually not my own, either. Instead it is the imagined, or real, judgment from others. Their thoughts on my choices, my plans, my actions – the perceived disapproval of others is how my journey through a declivity of self pity always begins.

I stumbled on the above scripture in Ephesians a few days ago and began writing this post. I couldn't finish it ... until now. I stumbled on more scripture a few minutes ago that I feel complete the thought. 1 Thessalonians 5:16 says: "Be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Always be joyful - God's given you joy. Exercise it. No matter what's going on, if you know Him, you've got a reason to be joyful.

Pray continually - Even in the rare event that you and everybody around you is experiencing a blissfully perfect life, somebody somewhere doesn't know Him. Pray for that person.

Give thanks in ALL circumstances - This one is hard, but when things are looking glum, when you feel the cold fist of a bad mood, the best thing to do is start praising him. Count your blessings, not your sorrows. (I borrowed that from a church sign.)

It's safe to say that the next time I find myself in a valley, or on my way down to one, if I'll utilize these tools instead of that old shovel, things will get better a lot quicker.

Rebuttal to myself

I never intended for the blog I wrote earlier today to be negative in any way. Nevertheless, I think it was, and I wasn't comfortable leaving it up for the whole universe, or my 10 followers to read. If you already have ...

I'll write a regular-length post in the next few days. In the meantime, let it suffice to say that I am blessed beyond measure. I love my family - I could praise God forever over the wonderful people He's given me to love. Most importantly, I walk in grace, holding the hand of a Father who loves me more than I can even begin to comprehend. It's not my plans or goals that count - when I start letting those (me) steer the boat too much, I have to step back and surrender my will once more. Oddly enough, after I do, the clouds part and I'm back to being me, hanging out with my best friend.