Life lessons courtesy of my one month old

Gary Thomas, author of Sacred Marriage and Sacred Parenting is right - when you have kids, they teach you far more about God than you ever teach them.

Eli is just over a month old, and I have so much to learn about being a parent. But, in his few short weeks with us, he has taught me a lot. He's been a mirror for my sin and shown me again my need for a Savior. Despite the immense love I have for my son, and for my husband, I'm often selfish. I don't mean to be, but I struggle sometimes (often) to put their needs ahead of my own. I grow resentful when I haven't gotten as much sleep as they have, or when I constantly smell like the spit up that is residing in my hair or on my clothes (yep, being a mom is oh so glamorous!). I am also prideful. Sometimes, I try to do more for Eli, and tackle things on my own, in order to make me feel like the better parent. Yes, I am indeed quite fallen. Thank God for Christmas - for sending his Son to deal with HUGE messes like me.

Anyhow, although quite unpleasant, I have learned a lot about God this past week.

Let's start by saying that, JP and I are officially out of the running for the Parents of the Year award. (I highly doubt we were ever IN the running, but, just in case, now, all bets are off). Since Eli was born, for the nine months preceding his birth, and for as long as we fathomed having children, JP and I, like all young couples, were bound and determined to be perfect parents. We were going to do absolutely everything right and people would marvel at our parenting skills. That was the plan...

This past Sunday (Christmas) night/wee hours Monday morning, we were at my in-laws house, trying to go to sleep, after a busy few days celebrating with family and friends. We were completely exhausted, and so was our son (though he was fighting sleep). We laid him in his pack and play in our room and hoped for the best. Like clockwork though, Eli quickly began to cry. He doesn't do very well sleeping on his own, and he lets us know it. JP picked him up and held him on his chest, comforting him to sleep. However, they both ended up falling asleep, and we woke to a thud - Eli had fallen. My initial response was fear for my son. We calmed his cries and looked at him - he appeared normal. As soon as I realized he was "ok", my next response was anger and bitterness at JP - which I recognized and quickly prayed against.

After Eli calmed down, he was able to nurse, and acted the same as always once he finished - first, he was alseep, and then awake for his 10-15 minutes of alert playfulness. Still, we were both nervous, so we called our pediatrician, who suggested taking him in to the hospital to be checked. I was certain we'd get a "he's fine" and be on our way back to Nelson. At this point, my frustrations with my husband subsided, and I tried to be comforting and reassure him that this was an accident, it could have happened to anyone, and that he was/is a great dad.

Instead, when we got to the hospital, we learned that things were much more complicated. His initial check showed no major bleeding, but they suggested a CT scan, which made me nervous. The scan showed a minor head bleed, which meant they had to keep him to monitor, he had to take anti-seizure meds through an IV as a precautionary measure, and he had to have some follow up scans to insure the bleeding had stopped. I quickly became hysterical, and all support of my husband went out the window. I was furious with him for "doing this" to my baby boy.

To make a long story short (well, shorter), everything went as well as could be expected. All monitoring showed that Eli was fine, the scans showed no clotting, and that the bleed had stopped. He was discharged the next day, and has been his normal self for the most part (just a little extra sleepy/spit-upy from the meds).

But I have been struggling.

First, I have had to deal with my feelings toward my husband. JP is SUCH a good dad. I have seen lots of dads interact with their kids, and tend to them, and (though I may be biased) I have never seen one take such good care, or show so much love to their child as my husband does with my son. JP is a wonderful helper and readily attends to anything Eli needs. He has also been great with me - making sure that I get the rest, nutrition and support I need to tend to our sweet boy. The fact that there was an accident doesn't change that.

My response to this whole situation was far from appropriate or Christ-like. God has love and grace for me when I sin - and my sins are so often not "an accident" like Eli's fall. The anger I resorted to initially was only settled when I thought everything was ok. In other words, I was supportive because of the situation and circumstances, not because of a loving attitude of grace for my husband. Worse, I was prideful. Once I WAS able to comfort JP and be on his team, I was proud of my ability to be supportive, even though, when things got rough, I resorted back to my bitterness and resentment. Any ability to love and support him was not of myself, but a result of God's answer to my prayers - what right did I have to be prideful?

I also really struggled with how to tell people what had happened. We were in the hospital for hours before I contacted a few friends with the news. This was partly because things were so hectic and busy, but also because I didn't want anyone to know what had happened. In my head, Eli being in the hospital meant that JP and I were failures as parents, and I wanted to keep the illusion that we were still in the running for that parent award.... I was so fearful of what people would think of us that I didn't reach out for help and ask for prayers. I let my pride stand in the way.

Oh, what a mess I am.

I have been asking God for a loving, forgiving heart, for grace for my husband, and for humility. I need him to break down my pride and cleanse my heart. That's the bad news.

The good news is, he's faithful, and he will.

I am so thankful

- for a God who is able to do this work in me and who always brings good out of bad

- for a son to help me learn these valuable lessons (who, also, is on the mend and recovering well).

God is good.

Thankful for this hard day...

So, today has been the longest, hardest, most challenging day since... well, since I had 26 hours of back labor and delivered a 9lb baby without any meds. But, if you don't count that, today has been the longest, hardest, most challenging day that I can remember...

When we left the hospital I was a complete wreck. I was overwhelmed with how hard breastfeeding was, worried about Eli losing weight, exhausted from intense sleep deprivation, and most of all, shocked that the staff at the hospital was going to let me take this sweet baby boy home to care for. Didn't they know that I am really just a 25 year old kid myself? What do I know about taking care of a baby?

I have been blessed to have JP home with Eli and I for the past two weeks. The first few days, he did a lot of the work. I took care of "input" and he was on "output" duty, in addition to helping take care of me. This allowed me to recover from delivery and rest up a bit. Then, after I started to feel better, we began tag teaming pretty much everything. We took turns dressing him, changing his clothes, burping him, putting meals together, straightening up etc. Besides feeding, we divided up pretty much everything that needed to be done. It was busy and hectic, but good.

Well, JP heads back to work Monday, and it's going to be me and the little bean. (JP gave him the nickname "bean" because he said he thought he looked like a big kidney bean when he was born). I love my little guy, but am quite nervous about it being just the two of us, without all of his daddy's help. So, to help me with the transition, today we had a "practice" work day. JP was at home, but he pretended to be at work all day. He did some things around here, but absolutely nothing for Eli and nothing for me (ie. no getting my food and brining it to me - I'm going to have to learn to somehow eat while taking care of a child. I'm not sure how yet, so if I look malnourished, that might be why). Anyhow, today it was all me from the time we got up until almost 6:00, and it was HARD.

We woke up, had difficult feeding number 1 in the bed. Eli is such a sleepy boy, and he really has a hard time latching on to eat. We've been using a shield, but that's been hard/messy. So I got up, washed the shield from the night time feeding, and got him to eat. After that, I changed him, swaddled him and set off for downstairs to fix my own breakfast. He cried when I put him down, so I grabbed a muffin and a yogurt and ate as quickly as I could while consoling him. Then we headed to the couch for some comforting in the form of cuddles.

After Eli was clearly sleeping soundly, I rushed upstairs and took the fastest shower of my life, then came back to get my sweet little boy. I picked him up, only to notice he had peed on the couch. Lovely. We went upstairs for me to change him, and I forgot about the pee, laid him on the bed while I did something, picked him up, and the sheets were suddenly wet too. Great. I got him changed and swaddled and tried to calm him while he cried.

Soon, it was time for the next feeding. Frustrating feeding number 2, which was basically the same story as the first, except in a different location. Then, we got ready, and headed to JP's work to introduce him to his coworkers. Most everything went smoothly with that, except that as we were walking into his office I noticed my shirt was wet from, well, you know. Thankfully, I was wearing my jacket.

We got home, and it was eating time again. This was THE most frustrating feeding of them all. I changed Eli, tried to get him to latch without the shield, to no avail. Then, I realized the shield was missing. My poor sweet boy was screaming while I frantically searched for it. He ate, spit up all over himself and the comforter on the bed, ate some more, needed changing, and I was tending to this while also trying to deal with my crazy dog who was back for the first day after being at my parents house since baby was born.

Once things were settled we went downstairs to visit with my dad, who had dropped Ollie off and come to visit for his birthday. We had a good visit with him and mom, and then they left. It was 4:30 and I had one more hour of JP's "work" day. Eli was sleeping soundly, so I decided to take a nap. I brought him upstairs, put him in the pack and play, and and got cozy under the covers. JUST about the time I was falling asleep, I heard it. He was pooping. Then he was screaming and crying.... part of me, a very large part of me, wanted to scream and cry right along with him. What a day it had been and how aggravating that right when I was trying to nap he got so cranky. I started down the road to a really bad attitude, and then, I made a U-turn.

I decided, instead of being frustrated, to be thankful. I have been blessed with a sweet, precious, adorable baby boy. He is healthy and all of his systems work well (even if the lungs do lead to some loud cries and the digestive system gives some less than lovely presents). He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have been blessed to have his daddy's help for longer than many women have their husbands home. And I am able to take a 12 week maternity leave, plus Christmas break (and any snow days add on days to my time off - pray for lots and lots this year).

Anyhow, instead of screaming or crying, I decided to count my blessings and remember what many have told me - "the days are long, but the years are short". I know that, hard as today might have been, one day I will look back and miss this. I'll miss the days of us at home with me taking care of his every need. I will miss how small he is, and how dependent he is on his mommy for food. Even if it's challenging right now, I'll miss nursing him. I'll miss him crying because he needs me to hold him, or let him suck on my finger to make everything right in the world. I'll miss our sweet cuddles - the ones where I feel like I need to go do something else, but it breaks his heart for me to put him down. One day we won't have Ollie, and I'll miss him too - even if he's trying my patience.

So, today, instead of losing it because I didn't have my nap, or because it was the most challenging day I'd had in a long time, I gave thanks for this special time, for my handsome, precious Eli, and my sweet little family. I really am so blessed.

It's good to know I'm not the only one...

A while back I was convicted about reading more from God's word. I don't know about you, but I have a tendency to "camp out" in the New Testament, where things are mostly cheery, and it's incredibly easy to see God as a loving Father. I love reading the gospels and Paul's letters. Although they can definitely be challenging and full of hard life-changing application, they tend to uplift or inspire me. Even the challenges are welcomed. As what I read slowly sinks in, I know it will help me to grow in my faith. I almost always walk away from a NT Bible reading encouraged, convicted or touched in some way.

But, if I'm honest, my tendency is not to view the Old Testament in the same way. Actually, I tend to see much of the OT as being either boring (geneologies - yawwwwn) or, in other cases, just plain weird. That's probably because of the fact that I have a human mind that is incapable of understanding, or because God doesn't give us all the answers, but, regardless, that's my usual view. However, like I said, I've been convicted that God allowed this particular group of books to become scripture for a reason.

2 Timothy 3:16-17 "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."

Anyhow, I've been bouncing back and forth between the Old and New Testament, and after doing a study of David in Women's Bible Study this summer, decided to start in 1 Samuel and plow through 1&2 Samuel, 1&2 Kings. I'll be honest, sometimes David fighting all the "ites" or circumcising people isn't my favorite reading.

But as I read 2 Samuel 6:1-15, a "weird" and less well known story struck me in a new way.

Here's the text - it's worth reading!

The Ark Brought to Jerusalem

¹ David again brought together all the able young men of Israel—thirty thousand. ² He and all his men went to Baalah in Judah to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the Name, the name of the LORD Almighty, who is enthroned between the cherubim on the ark. ³⁴ with the ark of God on it,and Ahio was walking in front of it. ⁵ David and all Israel were celebrating with all their might before the LORD, with castanets, harps, lyres, timbrels, sistrums and cymbals. They set the ark of God on a new cart and brought it from the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, sons of Abinadab, were guiding the new cart

⁶ When they came to the threshing floor of Nakon, Uzzah reached out and took hold of the ark of God, because the oxen stumbled. ⁷ The LORD’s anger burned against Uzzah because of his irreverent act; therefore God struck him down, and he died there beside the ark of God.

⁸ Then David was angry because the LORD’s wrath had broken out against Uzzah, and to this day that place is called Perez Uzzah.

⁹ David was afraid of the LORD that day and said, “How can the ark of the LORD ever come to me?” ¹⁰ He was not willing to take the ark of the LORD to be with him in the City of David. Instead, he took it to the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite. ¹¹ The ark of the LORD remained in the house of Obed-Edom the Gittite for three months, and the LORD blessed him and his entire household.

¹² Now King David was told, “The LORD has blessed the household of Obed-Edom and everything he has, because of the ark of God.” So David went to bring up the ark of God from the house of Obed-Edom to the City of David with rejoicing. ¹³ When those who were carrying the ark of the LORD had taken six steps, he sacrificed a bull and a fattened calf. ¹⁴ Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the LORD with all his might, ¹⁵ while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the LORD with shouts and the sound of trumpets.

So, it's kind of a weird story. I mean, I definitely struggle with God striking people down and some of the "harder to explain" things that happen in scripture. BUT, what I love about this passage is knowing that I'm not alone! David, a man after God's own heart, struggled too! Verses 8 and 9 show two of David's emotions - he was angry and he was afraid. Then, he was unwilling to take the ark to be with him.

Now, I'm not saying these are good emotions, or that they are the proper or "right" responses to God's actions. However, they are genuine, human reactions to something that God does that is difficult for David to understand. It gives me a TON of comfort and peace to know that I'm not the only one who goes through seasons of being angry, or afraid or God, or unwilling to seek out his presence. A man in scripture who is referred to as being "a man after God's own heart" had the same issues and feelings to work out. And he did. So at least I'm in good company!

I think the other thing this passage taught me, is that, while God can handle our anger and fear, he longs to bring us out of it. Like David did, we must move past these emotions and return to God's presence with rejoicing. I wonder what life would have been like for David if he'd stayed buried in his anger and fear and hadn't reconnected with God. I'm certain the outcome wouldn't have been good.

I'm thankful today that God allows us to deal with our emotions, our fears, our questions and our doubts, but that he also draws us back into fellowship with himself.

2 Samuel 14:14b "he devises ways so that a banished person may not remain estranged from him."

Beginning of the year blessings

August 16th was one of the hardest days I've faced in some time. After a summer of being off, and focusing on the upcoming reality of motherhood and the little one growing inside me, to say that I didn't want to go back to school is a gross understatement. I was absolutely dreading it, with every fiber of my being. It's really not that I don't love children, or my job. I do. I really really do. But over the past year I have felt so torn over my desires. Being the type A, organized, perfectionist that I am, I like to do all things well. Really well. And I haven't quite figured out how to do that with both my work and home life. It always seems like to be a good teacher, I have to devote so much time, energy and effort, that my home life (marriage, friendships, time with the Lord, etc) suffers. Then, when I feel like I'm doing better in those areas, it usually seems like school isn't going quite the way I want it to. I hate that I can't seem to do either as well as I would like.

This summer I loved being able to focus my energy and attentions on things at home. As the summer began to draw to a close, my third trimester settled in, and with it - an increase in exhaustion. I wondered how in the world I'd be able to handle returning to school - with a combination class of 21 fourth and fifth graders and my waning energy. I couldn't fathom making it through 10+ hr work days, managing a classroom, planning, grading, communicating with parents and surviving all of this as a pregnant lady with a million other things to do. And so, I asked for and coveted the prayers of friends, family and anyone who'd be willing to listen to my woes.

And then, August 16th came, and the subsequent days thereafter. Despite my tears on the 15th, I haven't had any since. Things are busy and quite hectic and there is ALWAYS work to be done, but God has been so faithful. Having a student teacher has been a wonderful blessing - as she's been great company and so helpful with all of the small "beginning of the year" tasks that take SO much time. I'm looking forward to her taking over some of the teaching as well. I know that this is a learning experience for her, but I simultaneously think of her as a part of God's provision for me during such a hard time. I also have a wonderful teaching assistant who is a great support. The year is off to pretty much as good of a start as could be asked for/expected.

And when the wonderful people who have been praying for me ask - I tell them so. After hearing my sob stories from the beginning of the year for the past three years, most of them drop their jaws, give me a confused look, or do a double take when they find out how well things have been going. It's not just them - the words feel strangely funny coming out of my mouth as well. "The beginning year is going wonderfully so far" - is that even English? Definitely not words I'm used to speaking.

And yet - it is going wonderfully. God has answered prayers so abundantly for me and I am grateful. However, like those around me, I'm also surprised, and I shouldn't be. God has promised to be faithful. He's told us in his word that he likes to give good gifts to his children. Why am I surprised when he actually does?

Ephesians 3:20 came to mind. "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever, amen." Why am I surprised when God acts the way his word says he acts?

I was also thinking about this during my quiet time this morning when I was reading in 1 Samuel 23. David inquires of the Lord about whether to go attack the Philistines, and the Lord answers. Then later on in the chapter it says "And again David inquired of the Lord and the Lord answered him." Why do I not wait and trust that God will answer my inquires as he did David?

Oh me of little faith. I am trying to learn to be more confident that God is who he says he is, and he will do what he says he will do. He is so faithful, even when I'm not.

I'm even hormonal in my sleep...

Pregnancy sure is an adventure. In addition to the mid-night trips to the bathroom that lead to musings about Adam Sandler films, there is heartburn, a growing belly, a ridiculous decline in my ability to tolerate heat, and ninja movements happening from my insides. JP and I have been enjoying the ride thus far - though, to make it through to the end he's informed me he may need a parka and a wool hat. Temperatures keep dropping in this house y'all - the current night time setting is either 67 or 68, and sometimes I still wake up hot.

Anyhow, one of the most interesting parts of pregnancy to me is the hormones. I haven't been totally crazy, but I've had my moments. My advice for those who have to cope with and support pregnant ladies is this: whatever you do, do not, I repeat, DO NOT tell a woman "it's just hormones" in the middle of a hormonal episode. That will just increase the problem and lengthen the amount of time it takes for her to return to her normal state. Once she's past the breakdown, she'll realize it for herself (at least, this has been the case for me). It's best to wait until she's confessed her actions to be the result of hormones and then gently agree with her. If you're a bit more daring, you can kindly ask if you think it may be hormone related, long after she's past being emotional. (If she says no, say something like, "oh, ok" and back off the topic, quickly). My dear hubs has learned these tricks of the trade pretty fast and we're surviving the hormones without any damage - just some funny, and blog-worthy stories. Here are some of my favorite occurrences that I am officially blaming on hormones. (See, now, after the fact, I am fully able to laugh at them - at the time these episodes were NOT funny. AT ALL.)

Last week I made a meal and was missing an ingredient. JP told me that it didn't taste the same/as good without it. I burst into tears because to me this translated to "I don't appreciate you or think you do a good enough job cooking".

On my way back from the beach with my family, I got off schedule in my eating. When I was talking to JP on the phone I informed him that this would impact our dinner plans to go to the Blue Ridge Pig for barbeque, since I wouldn't be hungry. He said he was disappointed. Cue tears. I bawled and responded "I can't make anyone happy."

A few weeks ago we were at Sam's Club, shopping for things for the hospitality ministry at our church. I saw something called the "Giggle Wiggle Pregnancy Journal" and thought it would be a great way to record special moments from the pregnancy. I mentioned wanting it to JP and he was like, "really?" (not over the moon giddy like I was). I promptly began to cry, told him it was obvious he didn't care about our baby at all, took the car key and stormed out of Sam's. (Not one of my finer moments, I know). Dear husband went ahead and purchased the journal - he gave it to me after I'd calmed down.

Last night it was 10 something and JP said he was tired. We hadn't had much time for the two of us all day, because his fam had been over for a cookout. I asked if we could play Settlers or do some other fun/interactive activity to spend time together, but he said he was really tired. I was convinced that "I'm tired" was some kind of code for "I don't want to spend time with you" so I cried and then went to sleep. I thought I'd be in a better mood when I woke up - not quite.

I'm hormonal in my sleep too. I know it sounds crazy, but I am. Today I met the hubs for lunch downtown (we ate at the Nook - inside, because that's where the air conditioning is). JP asked me if I remembered talking to him this morning. I didn't, at all. He informed me that I turned over, and said "I blame you". Unsure what I was talking about, he asked "For what?" My reply was a grouchy "EVERYTHING!" and then I turned back over and went to sleep.

Pregnancy sure is a funny thing.

Middle of the night musings: God and an Adam Sandler film

So, I'm a few weeks away from beginning my third trimester. A lot of my friends and family keep remarking on how quickly time has gone by in my pregnancy and how the baby will be here so soon (3 and 1/2 months or so), but to me, it doesn't feel that way. I feel like I've been pregnant forever. All in all, it's been a pretty smooth ride (minus a few small nuisances) and I've mostly been enjoying it.

One of the things that I don't particularly enjoy though, is the frequency of my trips to the restroom. JP and I were watching a movie the other night, and I must have made him pause it 15 times -at least. It gets a bit out of control, and is especially annoying at night when I have to get up and stumble over Ollie, to the point that I'm fully awake. Add to this heartburn, and it's even more frustrating. That was my night last night. Trips to the bathroom, and waking up with heartburn. (As soon as I finish this post I plan to nap in order to make up for lost sleep -I'm sleeping for two y'all).

Well, despite the fact that I haven't known an uninterrupted night's sleep in months, and probably won't again for months or even years, there are occasionally benefits to being awake in the middle of the night, when everything else is quiet, and your mind is sort of doing it's own thing because you aren't in full control of your faculties. Every once in a while I feel like I hear God's voice or learn something about him in the quiet. Last night was such a night for me.

I woke up, nearly fell over the dog, and then cautiously avoided walking into his crate. I made my way to the restroom and back to bed, but, by then I was relatively awake. I laid in bed, mind racing, and what settled in after a few moments was the Adam Sandler movie, Fifty First Dates. I've seen the movie a couple times, but not recently, and my dream had been in no way related to the film. (I'd actually been dreaming that we were all kids and my sisters had done something to make my mom horribly upset and she was blaming me for their actions). Anyhow, my mind just couldn't stop thinking about that movie, and I had no idea why.

Then, I felt like God spoke to me, about how he's like Adam Sandler's character (Henry) in that movie. No, I don't think God is much like Adam Sandler, and I'm not being heretical - just hear me out.

So in Fifty First Dates Henry falls in love with Lucy, who suffers from brain damage and short term memory loss. When she goes to bed each night, she forgets everything from the day before. After a humorous pursuit of Lucy and her affections, the two fall in love, but have this obstacle to overcome - Lucy doesn't remember her boyfriend the next morning. Henry must remind his love who he is, and cause her to fall in love with him anew each day. It's a sweet story and a pretty cute movie - I think it's been a date night film for the hubs and I twice over the course of our nearly 10 year old relationship.

At any rate, I think God is lot like Henry with me. As I spend time with Him, He teaches me things. I learn from Him and our relationship grows. He teaches me lessons about who I am and about who He is. He shows me his ways and his plans and purposes for my life. Sometimes this is through scripture, sometimes through the words of others, and sometime through prayer. I record what I learn in a special journal I keep, and, sometimes, here. And then, it happens.

Like Lucy, I have memory problems. I don't "actually" lose my memory, there's nothing a doctor could diagnose, but still, I have notable issues remembering what the Lord has done for me. Like Lucy, I go to sleep (or to work, or back to old habits) and I forget. I can't remember the things I once knew to be true and all the lessons God has taught me. I forget what He's said about who He is, or who I am, or some other teaching he's given. It's not really that I can't remember them, it's more that the things that seemed as if they had "sunk in" have somehow "come out" and I have to relearn the same lessons and truths time and time again.

In the film, Lucy gets frustrated with herself sometimes, because she knows she's supposed to remember Henry, but she doesn't. That's often how I feel. Hebrews 5:12 comes to mind, "In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God all over again. You need milk, not solid food."

Still, Lucy has Henry, a man who is in love with her enough that he is willing to teach her, again, every single day, who she is. He makes her fall in love with him again, every. single. day. I think God is a lot like that with me. Despite how many times I've forgotten who I am in Christ, forgotten what He's done for me (in terms of the cross, and more specific, personal things in my individual life) and forgotten the things I had once learned, He's always willing to teach me again. He takes me just as I am, right where I'm at, and reminds me of these things. Then he helps restore our relationship again. I think God's love for His children is a lot like the committed, patient love of Henry Roth in Fifty First Dates. He is willing to teach, pursue, and call back his bride time and time again, even though she may forget Him.

And that my friends, is what I was thinking about at some ridiculous hour last night/this morning - about God and Adam Sandler's movie Fifty First Dates.

On teaching, and Draco Malfoy

Less than a month left of summer and then school begins. I've been thinking a lot the past few days about the kids who will be in my class this year - what their personalities will be like, what needs will they have (academic and otherwise) and how they will interact with one another (and with me). I've wondered which children I'll immediately click and form strong bonds with, which ones will require lots of time, love and work before opening up and trusting me, and, which ones I might not be able to reach. I've thought about this even more since JP and I saw Harry Potter last night....

I will refrain from posting a full review of the film. It was definitely good, very action packed, but not my favorite of the eight. I had trouble with some of the changes they made from the book (I almost always do), especially the fact that they left out Harry's struggle with Dumbledore - his wondering about the past and what he really knew of the man. I had just finished re-reading the book, and it bothered me that this major theme was missing from the movie. Anyhow, I digress.

JP and I spent a while processing the movie (Sydney Moulton - I'm still happy to have our process the film phone call, even if it is a bit after the fact). We talked about this last movie, and then about the Harry Potter story in general, Rowling's writing style, and her ability to bring to life richly-developed characters.

We talked about the characters we loved (Dobby, Hermione, Snape and Neville, among others) and the ones we despised (Bellatrix LaStrange - oh how much I loved when Molly Weasley took her out). Our thoughts about the characters were largely the same, both of us feeling the way Rowling probably wanted the reader to feel. However, on one character, we disagreed.

JP strongly dislikes Draco Malfoy and his punk-self while I struggle with him as a character, especially in this movie. Draco's life is unfortunate in many ways. He grows up indoctrinated by his mother and father, brought up to believe the "racist" lie that purebloods have some sort of superior status. He's a "bad" kid, constantly picking on the good guys and bringing them trouble. However, he's not ALL bad.

Despite his upbringing, Slytherin ways, and his evil pride, in Half Blood Prince, Draco struggles to fulfill Voldemort's orders to kill Dumbledore. He just can't do it. In Deathly Hallows, he won't tell Bellatrix that it's truly Harry who has been brought in by the snatchers, and he struggles to fight Harry in the Room of Requirement. I think that he's struggling against his desire to do good, to be on the same side as Harry and the role he's created for himself. Draco has gone a long ways down the path he's taken - he's a Death Eater, the son of Lucius and Narissa Malfoy, and he's filled the "bad kid" role for so long. But it's clear to me that, at least in part, that isn't who he wants to be. He just struggles to break out of that mold he's been in for so long.

And that, my friends, is the prototype of my favorite students to teach. I love to work with kids who are a bit "rough around the edges". The ones that have almost made it up in their minds that they are not-good students and so they try to act like poor students, but you can tell that really, deep down, they'd love to succeed. Or the ones that are the trouble makers. They've been the problem child for so long that it's almost a part of their DNA, and they act like they enjoy that role, but you can tell, really, they'd love to break free from those chains. I love teaching those kids. I love trying to help them see the sparks of goodness underneath the layers of disappointment, failure, and struggle, and helping them "take off" those layers, until they find the person they want to become. It's one of the reasons I enjoy teaching upper elementary so much - those layers can still come off, they haven't solidified. Kids have the opportunity to stop being the "Death Eater" or the "bad guy" and become their best selves. And oh, how I love to help them make that transition.

I had a student once who was much like this. He was smart, and a great kid, who had been hardened by many circumstances in his life. He constantly got into trouble, and was rude to the other students, and especially to me. He made me cry on numerous occasions, both from his harsh words, and my frustration with him not living out his potential. It took nearly two years of hard work, showing him his successes, pointing out his goodness, and showing him love for him before he finally opened up, and trusted me enough to try to change. It was hard for him to attempt to alter his identity, knowing that he would sometimes fall into old habits and need to pick himself back up and try again. But this student made tremendous improvements, ended up receiving a "most improved student" award, got perfect scores on his standardized tests, is in honors classes in middle school, and gave me a hug, as we both shed tears, on his last day of elementary school. Oh what a sweet day that was!

All teachers love having Hermiones. Students who succeed, love learning and want to be pushed to greater heights academically. However, if Draco Malfoy was a rising 5th grader - I'd want him to be in my class too.

Forgetting what is behind

Am I the only one who has an uncanny ability to focus on all that is wrong in (my) life? When asked the quick "glass half full or half empty?" question, I almost always say "half-full". But, in all honesty, that usually just applies to the glass. With respect to my own life, if I'm honest, I must admit that I am a bit of a pessimist. I'm great at beating myself up over past (and current) mistakes and worrying about the future.

As a Christian, I believe it's important to understand one's own depravity and sinfulness. Just as those who aren't sick don't need a doctor, if people weren't sinful, we'd have no need for a savior, and Christ wouldn't have needed to come. So, in order to understand the absolute necessity of Christ, we must have a proper view of the mess we're in and our inability to pull ourselves out of it. After God gives us grace and wisdom to grasp our fallenness and need for Him, we can genuinely repent and begin to understand the greatness of his gift to us in the cross. In my head, I understand all of this to be true. It's the foundation of the Gospel.

However, as I've written before, I have a really hard time getting past focusing on myself. I probably have as thorough an understanding of my depravity and sinfulness as anyone on the planet. I am a mess and I make mistakes on a regular basis, often the same ones over and over, despite my greatest attempts and desires not to. Though I wish I weren't, I am often selfish, prideful, inconsiderate, and too worried about what other's think of me. While all that sounds pretty depressing, I have confidence that, like I said, this understanding can and should direct me to a thankful heart for what Christ has done for me and a need for dependence on him.

Instead, though, I tend to get stuck in ruts. I either focus on past or current failures, and I convince myself that God will be near, in a fruitful relationship with me when (and only when) I get everything figured out and I pull myself together. However, I know in my head that's a lie. He might be directing me to fix things and he certainly will convict me in areas where conviction in needed, but he doesn't want me to stop and dwell on all my problems and forget that he is the solution.

This morning, in my quiet time, I stumbled over this verse, which I've read many times, but it hit me in a new way and it was just the encouragement I needed.

Philippians 3:12-14 "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

I am praying today that God would (daily) help me to forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead. If Paul wasn't made perfect, maybe I (we) don't have to be either. We certainly don't have to (and aren't able to) work everything out ourselves.

Knock knock... who's there??

First, I want to thank those of you who have written me emails, sent facebook messages, or talked to me in person about my last blog entry. I appreciate both the kind words and support I have received, as well as the knowledge that my last post touched some who read it. I love writing, am often touched by reading others' words, and was encouraged to know that what I wrote impacted some people in different ways.

Second, I'd love to know - who has been reading this thing? I've gotten between 50 and 60 unique pageviews on the last two entries, which really excites me, but other than those of you who have messaged me, I have no idea who's reading.

Last Friday night I was informed of a blog reader I had no idea I had. She talked about how some of the posts had really touched her, and it made my night. When I told her I had no idea she was reading, she mentioned wanting to comment, but worrying that I'd think it was weird that she reads. I definitely don't. The link is posted on gmail and facebook, so I'm obviously not keeping it a secret. I got a similar email yesterday, from someone who had been encouraged by the blog, who I was shocked even looked at this thing.

So, if you're reading, welcome, I'm glad you're here. Let me know who you are in the comments.

Hard...

is the first word that comes to mind when I think about this past week. The second (and third I guess) is "emotional rollercoaster". I'm going to be vulnerable here, partly because I value openness and appreciate knowing that others don't have it all together all of the time, and partly because I need to in order to process and just "get it out".

I knew this week would be busy: with CAI (an in-county teacher institute Tuesday through Thursday), and my little sister's wedding festivities (complete with a bachelorette party I was co-throwing and hosting at my house), it was sure to be hectic. But I had no idea how emotionally trying the week would be.

On Monday evening, I found out some terrible news. A dear, sweet boy, Mason Thomas, who was a student in my class this past year, and who I taught in summer school prior to that, had passed away after a long battle with cancer. I was heartbroken for his mother, who is one of the strongest most selfless people I have ever met. I was also torn up for his friends, my dear little children, who had known Mason since they were in preschool and had helped raise money, walked in his honor at Relay for Life, and been there throughout his six year fight against cancer. Finally, I was saddened for myself. I remembered him entering my classroom last summer, with a bright smile, full of life. I thought about him playing with the other kids, exhibiting strong abilities in math, and just being a "normal" kid. Then I reflected on the last two times I spent with Mason - about an hour at his house, just the two of us, and at our 5th grade "Stepping Up" ceremony on the last day of school. Even though I knew things did not look good, I think, like my students, I was focused on the fact that Mason always got better. He always came back. And this time, he wasn't going to.

Going to work the next few days was so hard. As we prepared for a new school year, and a new classroom of students, all I could think about was the one who wouldn't be there. The one who wouldn't benefit from the work we were doing. My Myers Briggs personality type is "Guardian" and, under the heading, specifically, "Protector". Much more than focusing on academics, I like to care for my students, especially emotionally and socially. I love it when my words of "wisdom" are able to help children make better choices, or somehow, some experience is able to improve their situation in a small way. And it hurts me to know that I couldn't protect this precious child from cancer. I couldn't protect him or his family from the hurt or pain.

As the week went on, my attentions were divided. I worked on writing a short paragraph about Mason for a program that was beautifully put together. I also put together a matron of honor speech for my little sister's wedding. I worked on arrangements for a gathering at my school, calling parents to inform them of the details and check in on their children, and I also worked out last minute details for a bachelorette party that took place on Thursday. Friday I attended a wedding rehearsal and a visitation for my student; Saturday I was honored to be asked to attend a private funeral to say farewell to Mason, and then had my sister's wedding shortly after.

I can't remember the last time I've had so many ups and downs and such emotionally trying times so close together. On Friday, in addition to all of the other stresses, I went to pick up my altered dress, and it didn't fit. Monday, it was way too big, because it had to be ordered large due to me being pregnant. The lady doing the alterations took it in, and it was suddenly way too small, so she had to let it out again. Stress. At noon, two hours before the funeral on Saturday, I was getting my hair done for the wedding. When the stylist asked "What do you want done?" my response was "Well, I'd like to have it half up half down, but my sister, the bride, says all up or side ponytail. The wedding isn't until 6pm, but I have a funeral to go to before that for a former student. I need it to last over 6 hours without falling down, and I need as much hair as possible to cover my shoulder/top of chest because it's an area I feel self conscious about, as I'm the biggest of the bridesmaids." She said something about that being a lot to go through at one time, and I added - "did I mention I'm 19 weeks pregnant?".

She was right, it has been a lot. In less than a week I have had major breakdowns about all sorts of things - from the incredibly serious, to the superficial. I've cried about:

- being the largest, palest bridesmaid in the wedding

- the drama with my dress, and the way it fit

- my little sister getting married, and all the changes that go along with that

- getting to spend very little time with her the whole wedding weekend, because of how busy she was, and never having any special sister time

- things not going the way I'd planned

- two words: Butterfly Kisses (Father/Daughter dance)

- Mason's passing

- seeing Kelley's love for her son, and how selfless she's been, and thinking I won't be nearly as good of a mother

- thinking about our unborn child getting married and leaving us one day (yes, I realize that hormones are definitely playing their role)

- thinking about having to say goodbye to our child at such a young age

It's been crazy, and I still haven't pulled myself out of it. Last Sunday, on Father's day, we were in Nelson celebrating my dad and JP's. Him being a "father-to-be" I had wanted to do something little to celebrate him, but the thing I planned needed to be done here in Cville, on a weekend morning, when there wasn't so much going on. This morning I practically woke up in tears, not knowing why. I pulled myself together, showered, dressed and was brushing my teeth ten minutes before church when it hit me - I had planned to surprise JP with said-celebration this morning. FAIL. I burst into tears and cried uncontrollably for the next 15 minutes, eyes red, missing church. It was been that kind of a week.

Pretty much all I've got, other than that, is a thankful heart for a God of comfort who hears my prayers and cares about my heartaches (however BIG or small) and for a husband who is God's good and perfect gift to me, who is there for me through all of this.

Open letter to pregnancy

Dear Pregnancy,

You are a strange and mysterious one and I just can't understand you. When I found out you were coming for a nine month visit, I expected you'd bring a few unwelcome guests with you - and I was correct in my assumption. In addition to taking up residence in my uterus to grow a baby, you also found in necessary to invite nausea to reside in my stomach, pain to dwell in my head, and exhaustion to rule and reign in every inch of my body. However, you didn't stop there. You've confused my taste buds, burned my heart, made me itch from head to toe, nearly killed my poor bladder, and probably driven my poor husband insane.

Wait, you say, how do I know all of that is your fault? Well, in truth, I don't. Still, I've taken to believing that any and every weird or unpleasant thing that happens to me between now and November is a result of your presence in my life. Last week, I had heartburn that made me retrace what I'd eaten to see if something could have triggered a heart attack. Web MD: heartburn is a common effect of pregnancy. The 25+ lbs of tomatoes I've eaten since you came to visit = a craving that has cost nearly $100. Not to mention all the things you require me (or JP) to go out and fetch you. I mean, really. We have a full pantry and fridge, do you REALLY need us to go out and get curly fries from Arby's and a Jr. Bacon Cheese burger from Wendy's because you just can't eat anything else? And do you really have to throw a temper tantrum for chips and queso after Guad has already closed? I mean, come on pregnancy. What else do you want??

I am writing to ask that you and your little friends cool it for a while. You've done enough damage and taken enough toll on our household. You're welcome (and invited) to stay from now until November, but please be a little more kind.

Sincerely,

A pregnant woman and her husband

P.S. I have no idea if all the itching really is your fault or not, but have no other suspects at this time.

P.P.S. I do appreciate that you when you leave us this fall you'll be giving us the gift of a little one in return for your stay. He or she is definitely worth all this trouble.

Book Review - Radical Together

After reading Radical a while back, I gained an immense respect for David Platt. Much like Francis Chan, whose books and sermons I also really enjoy, Platt is a Christian who practices what he preaches and calls believers to a life-changing, out-of-your-comfort zone sort of faith. When I found out he'd written a new book, Radical Together, I was excited to get my hands on a copy.

Radical Together focuses on believers in the church living lives that are dramatically different because of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In the first chapter, he lays the foundation for the book, by explaining a not-so-novel principle: good can often be enemy of great. He explores how this is true in the the church. We have plenty of programs that, in themselves, are not bad, and, certainly are not sinful. There are activities and events for children and adults of all ages, niceties and conveniences in our buildings, and plenty of things to add to the ever growing to-do this. However, Platt calls his readers, as he called his own church, to examine these carefully to determine whether they are God's best. He tells the story of his church spending their $500,000 savings fund to meet physical and spiritual needs of people in India. This goes a much longer way in accomplishing God's plans than building a larger foyer in the front of an already expansive church building. He calls individuals and churches to regularly examine their lives to determine whether "good" things we're doing/spending money on, are stealing from the great. This was a foundational chapter in the book that was also very convicting for me personally.

I also greatly enjoyed the second chapter, where he explains that the "Gospel saves us from work to work". While at first this seems to be a contradiction, it isn't, The Bible is quite clear that it is by grace alone through faith alone that someone is saved. Salvation is all about grace and not one bit about our legalistic attempts. However, scripture also states that faith without works is dead. I was moved by stories, in this chapter and throughout the book, of everyday people living their lives to live God-honoring lives and love people well. Platt told a story of a couple who had been planning to buy a bigger home, that felt led to buy a smaller home and adopt children with the money. He told of parents who had adopted children with special needs, and those who had fostered children, or given radically for the sake of others. All of these people are "average Joes" whose lives have been transformed by the Gospel. They are saved from their own efforts to work for their salvation, and are saved to do the work of Christ.

The other chapters he explains how God uses imperfect people to accomplish his purposes, and how he uses his Word and the plans outlined in it, we only have to be obedient. It is a convicting book, an easy read time-wise, and I did appreciate how he suggested that believers come together as a body to accomplish the purposes God has for his church. However, my one criticism of the book is that I felt in many ways like a was reading Radical for a second time. Although I could certainly use the reminders, I felt it would have been equally beneficial to reread the first text. There were some new stories and applications for a group of believers desiring to walk through a radical life together, but, in general, I felt that the two works were too similar.

I received this book for free from Walterbrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.

From office to nursery - becoming a parent

This morning I got up a bit early to do some reading before meeting Christine and Hannah for discipleship. JP was fast asleep, and, not wanting to wake him, I put on my warm white robe and made my way into the office with my book. I curled up in the papasan chair JP bought me last Christmas and, before I got to the first page, it hit me: This room will only be an office for a couple more months. Soon, it will be a nursery. The desk, bookshelf and chair will migrate into the guest room, and then the office will be painted, furnished and graced with this adorableness. It will change from being a room I rarely frequent (other than when the hubs is working on grad school applications for hours and hours for days and days and I sit in the chair and read just to be near him) to one where I spend a good deal of my time. It's where I'll put my child to sleep and where I'll feed, change and dress him/her. I'll look forward to going into the room in the morning to greet my sleeping beauty, and probably even more to putting him or her to bed at night after a long day. It's crazy how much this room and it's function is going to change.

And the room is a symbol of my life. As I thought about how the office, with it's bookshelf full of collegiate texts, and brown walls adorned with sophisticated UVA prints and diplomas in their frames, would soon be transformed into a room with cartoon owls and cute little baby things, I realized that it isn't just the room that's going to look different come November. My life, in much the same way, is about to be remodeled. I currently work 7:30-5(ish), have a variety of afternoon activities, and relish the opportunity to sleep whenever possible (hey, it's fair, I'm growing a baby). In addition, my free time, however little there may be, is just that: MY. FREE. TIME. It won't be like that too much longer. I'll be responsible for taking care of another life and all that entails.

A lot of the time, I don't think about it. I'm 13 and 1/2 weeks pregnant, and, for the most part, things haven't changed much. I don't look much different and haven't had to buy maternity clothes yet (though my jeans are a bit more snug than I prefer), the morning sickness and insane nausea of the 1st trimester seem to have subsided for a while (praise the Lord!), and I've told almost everyone at this point (minus the Facebook reveal, which will probably occur later this week). Also, we're a ways away from actually working on the nursery, registering, or any other milestone plans. I tend to forget that I'm carrying a baby inside me.

And then, out of the blue, it hits. Like yesterday when we heard the heartbeat for the second time and it was strong, fast and crystal clear. Or today, reading in the office. It blows my mind that I'm responsible for this life - for raising it and helping it grow and mature, in addition to taking care of basic needs. Most of the time, I get really excited. Even though our sweet little baby was unplanned, he or she is already incredibly loved and I'm so excited about his/her arrival in November. Still, other times, I get scared - what if I'm not good at being a parent? What if I mess up? What if it's all just too much and I'm not ready and I fail?

I think back to the office. It isn't a nursery now, nor, despite my nesting wishes, will it become one overnight. We'll go through our belongings, pack things into boxes and move what stays into the guest room. Then my dearest hubs will paint the room a different color. We'll order furniture that will have to be assembled and put into place. Finally, we'll add decor and personal touches to the room. It's not an immediate transformation, but a process. And so, I tell myself, will it be with me. I won't figure it all out overnight, or even within months or years of having my baby. I don't know that parents ever completely "figure it out". But just like with decorating, I am very VERY excited about the process - even if it's a little daunting.

It's not about me

This weekend has been a wonderful, encouraging, and refreshing time for my soul. Chi Alpha Christian Fellowship at the University of Virginia held several events to celebrate its tenth birthday. In 10 years God has greatly grown and used this ministry to minister to college students from around the world, and I am beyond grateful to have been a part of this group. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without God's intervention through this group, and I don't want to. Through XA, I learned what true community and friendship means and how seek after and live for Christ. During this time my faith grew strong.

At my church I am being discipled by Christine Hoover (she writes a very encouraging blog, you should check it out). Bright and early last Tuesday morning, she asked me whether I thought I'd grown in my faith over the past year, if so, how, and if not, what was inhibiting that process from taking place. I feel like this year has been hard, but good, and that I'm on a three steps forward, two steps back sort of pace in terms of growth. This weekend, I've thought a lot more about why.

Last night Pete spoke from Deuteronomy about God telling the people to remember and not forget. The Israelites' calendar was structured around celebrations that were times for them to remember God's goodness and faithfulness in their lives. This was a necessity, as the Israelites didn't have the best memory. God brought plagues on Egypt that brought them out of slavery, he parted the Red Sea so that they could cross, and he provided manna from heaven for them to eat each day. Still, when Moses was up on the mountain, they decided to make a golden calf to worship. I mean really, how dense could they be? The embarrassing truth is, about as dense as we are. God has done great things for me. His touch and hand on my life is unmistakeable, and yet, sometimes I forget. I forget his faithfulness, his goodness and his power. I need the same reminder as the Israelites: remember and don't forget.

More than that though, I've realized that I need to remember more about who God is and what he's done, and less about my sin and shame. Getting to a place where you realize your brokenness and need for God is a good thing. It's only when you realize that you're sick that you know you need a doctor. But God doesn't intend for you to stay there. He wants you to see the state you're in so you can call on Him to pull you out of it. Through that, he receives glory and is able to redeem and restore what was broken into something new. Then, the focus shifts. It's no longer about you and your sin, but about Him and his goodness, grace and mercy.

I struggle with that. I've got the doctrine of total depravity down to an art, but that's where it stops. I tend to get so focused on me and what a mess I am, that I miss the good news of God. We were singing a worship song with the following lyrics and I realized something profound:

A thousand times I've failed

Still your mercy remains

Should I stumble again

Still I'm caught in your grace.

What I focus on is not that God's mercy remains in spite of my failures. I don't live with joy that I'm caught in God's grace when I sin. Instead, I think of the first line of that song as a sentence with a period: A thousand times I've failed - the end. I feel like God has been showing me this weekend that, praise Him, that's NOT the end. That's not even the most important part. The most important part is that God loves me, and has mercy and grace for me.

I am so grateful, and I pray that this would sink in and take root in my life. I think it's the soil I've been needing for growth.

Time

I've mentioned the fact that I often feel like I am cleverly disguised as an adult. I teach twenty four 10-12 year olds, and sometimes have more in common with them than I should care to admit. However, lately I've considered that I just might be growing up. In fact, twice in the past four days, I've felt very "old".

I started thinking about it this weekend. On Saturday morning JP and I were awake before 8am - without an alarm. We had no pressing plans, no reason to be awake, and yet, we were - without the ability to fall back asleep no less. This has been a gradual process that is, honestly, a bit unnerving. Traditionally, I am a marathon sleeper. I can easily be out for 10-12 hours like it's my job. In college, it was nothing for me to wake up well past noon, sometimes long after breakfast had stopped being served. Even since I've started teaching and have to be up at 6:30 Monday through Thursday, I've reveled in the joy of staying in bed, under the covers, sleeping as late as I want on Saturday mornings. Not anymore. To top it off, on Sunday, I was up before the alarm again, read for a while, and then vacuumed, dusted and cleaned the bathroom, all before going to church. Who is this person??

Well, if that wasn't enough, today I've been thinking about time. Time is a very precious thing. (See - didn't that just sound like a 60 year old thing to say??). I don't think I've ever appreciated time as much as I do now, mostly because right now I don't have much of it at my disposal. My job takes a LOT out of me. Between the planning, grading, teaching, communicating with parents, teachers and the administration, and attending meetings, it's pretty overwhelming. Even on days I do have "time" to myself at the end of a day (few and far between) I rarely have the energy to do much with it.

This year I've thought a lot about time - about how I spend mine, and how I want to spend it. This is my third year of teaching, and every year I've struggled and prayed and struggled and prayed about balance. My first two years of working, I wanted to be a super-golden-apple-winning-life-changing teacher. I poured my whole self - my time, my energy, all my attention, into my job. While this doesn't sound "bad", my life suffered. I didn't prioritize time with God, my marriage, or close friendships and the lack of balance greatly affected my ability to be successful in these other areas of my life, and in my job was well. Don't get me wrong, I still want to make a difference in my work. I want to develop positive relationships with my students be a role model for them, and shine the light of Jesus in the darkness that some of them face. I want to help them become better readers, writers, mathematicians, and, mostly, better people. I've learned though that this can't be my chief end and I can't give it ALL of my time.

The Bible talks about the inability of man to serve two masters. In the illustration, Jesus is talking about God and money, but I think it works for many situations. I can't simultaneously focus on my family and my job. To focus means that ones eyes and attention is fixed on one thing - not two or three or four. I've learned that teaching demands so much, and, frankly it's more than I can, or am willing to give.

When I think about how I'd like to spend my time, here are the things that immediately come to mind:

- time in the Word and time spent in prayer

- serving and loving my husband (making dinner, keeping a lovely home, spending quality time with him with ENERGY to enjoy it)

- spending time with our little one (Yes, we're pregnant! Baby is coming in November and I can't wait to read to it, play with it and love it with everything I've got)

- spending time with friends and family

- reading (for fun and to learn)

- writing (a student asked me the other day what I'd do if I wasn't a teacher and I answered that I'd LOVE to write)

- serving in roles that use my talents and help others

I used to feel guilty for wanting to do something other than my job. I have often struggled to believe that I "deserve" good things, or that it's "ok" to want things that make me happy. But lately I've been reminded that I am the way I am for a reason. The desires of my heart and my talents are ones that God put there. My longings to do things other than my job aren't wrong or selfish at all. They reflect me and who I am, and that's alright.

In my "old age" I want to treasure my time, and use it wisely. I don't want to look back on life with regrets of what I could or should have done and how I spent my time on all the wrong things.

Book Review - Soul Print

I just finished reading Soul Print, written by Mark Batterson. I've heard wonderful things about all of his books, but had only read In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day prior to picking up his latest. Like In a Pit, I found Soul Print to be an easy read, full of biblical truth, anecdotal stories that keep the text personal and engaging, as well as a challenge for life application.

In the book, Batterson tries to point the reader towards understanding and embracing his identity in Christ. He uses five well known accounts from the life of David to show how memories and experiences (both positive and negative), integrity (or lack thereof), embarrassment and sin shape who we are and affect our souls. At first, I wondered how he would be able to share these truths without leaving a dismally hopeless feeling within the reader - as we all have skeletons in the closet we'd prefer to forget about. The good news that Batterson constantly reminds us of, however, is that God is in the business of redemption, and he can use each and every aspect of our lives to draw us to himself. He can and does redeem our past in order build a hopeful future and receive glory.

I found a great deal of truth in Batterson's book and kept a highlighter in hand to mark sections I know I'll want to reference again. Mark does an excellent job intertwining the stories of David with his own, and he brings new light on stories that have been told numerous times. I loved the chapters Holy Confidence and Lifesymbols where he shared the importance of remembering what God has done in the past when we look at our present and future obstacles. Like a manna jar for the Israelites who God led through the desert, and like the armor of Goliath that David kept in his tent, we should put reminders in our presence so that we don't forget God's faithfulness. I also appreciated the chapters Crags of the Wild Goats and Alter Ego, where he encouraged the reader to live with integrity and for an audience of One, rather than to seek the love of men and their approval. It is a high and difficult calling, and Batterson tells of his own failures in this area, which, to me, increases his credibility.

I greatly enjoyed Soul Print and will likely pick up another Batterson book sometime soon.

I received this book for free from Waterbrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.

When life doesn't go according to my color coded plan...

I'm a planner - type A, organized (mostly), color coded, the whole nine yards. One of my favorite times of the year is when Barnes and Noble sets up their new calendars and planners. As I've shared before, I love fresh starts. Perhaps even more than with a new journal, an unmarked planner epitomizes a new beginning. It also allows me to fill its pages with my plans for the upcoming year. I mark fun events in blue, the regular everyday to-do lists and daily activities in black, deadlines/due dates in red, birthdays in purple - there's quite a system to making sure my life is well organized and goes exactly according to plan. Definite dates are penned in the appropriate color, while others that are not set in stone are written in pencil. I use this system hoping to never miss an engagement, have everything turned in/completed at the appropriate time, and enjoy the bliss of a life that goes the way I want it to, without and glitches or mess-ups.

If only my REAL life would get the message that it's supposed to be as neat and orderly as my color coded planner, all would be well. Somehow though, it doesn't. There's a disconnect between the life I plan and the one I lead. It makes me feel uneasy when I realize I'm not fully in control. Too many things can go wrong. Bad things happen. The only things that are supposed to occur are the ones written neatly into my beautiful blue planner.

Unfortunately, it doesn't quite work like that. No matter how much I try to plan, organize, and make my life go smoothly, it often doesn't work. I think if someone would have told me a month ago how much my life would change in just a few short weeks, I wouldn't have believed them. There have been some difficult days, to say the least - full of change, disappointment, struggles, and heartbreak. In a short amount of time, I feel like my "life plan" has been turned on it's head. I don't quite know how to operate with so many things off track. I haven't been using my planner lately. There doesn't seem to be much point these days - life hasn't been going according to plan anyway.

In the midst of all of this, the one thing I can hold on to, is that God DOESN'T change. He hasn't and He won't. He is the same yesterday, today and for a thousand tomorrows and He won't disappoint or won't break my heart. Right now, I'm not sure what I'd do without that. Today I've been reminded of one of my favorite worship songs. I remember it from my 3rd year of college, when I went through some pretty shaky things. It was a source of comfort then, and it is today.

Refuge:

Your call comes like the morning breeze

You spread Your wings and cover me

Underneath Your shadow

I will hide away

For there I've found my shelter

And there I'd like to stay.

Refuge, You're my refuge

When the world is shaken

And nothing stands

I will hold on to Your hand

Refuge.

I also have been thinking of another new favorite:

Your Hands:

I have unanswered prayers
I have trouble I wish wasn't there
And I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away
That You would take my pain away

I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crooked lie
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

When You walked upon the Earth
You healed the broken, lost, and hurt
I know You hate to see me cry
One day You will set all things right
Yea, one day You will set all things right

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still
Your hands that shape the world
Are holding me, they hold me still

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

From the mouths of sugar lump, pumpkin pie and darlin: Funny things my kids have said/done this year

When my students left on the last day of school last year, I cried. No, that's not a fair description. I bawled - like a baby - for hours. I had taught them for two years, during which time we all grew tremendously close. On "graduation" day, they could have left with their parents after the morning ceremony, but they stayed, all of them, and we had a wonderful wonderful day. I thought there was no way I'd ever love a group of children as much as those 15, but I was wrong.

My class this year couldn't be much more different. Last year I had 15 kids, this year I'm up to 26. Last year we were a close-knit, big, happy elementary school family and this year the kids physically and socially resemble middle schoolers, complete with divisions and cliques. However, they really are a great group of kids. They are as unique as can be, and are absolutely hilarious. Here are a few of my favorite moments from the year:

Student is dancing like crazy in line. Me: "What are you doing?" Student: "Just shakin my etch-e-sketch". Student pulls etch-e-sketch out of his back pocket. "See"

Student calls me over and whispers in my ear: "Mrs. Mays, do you think the new kid can douggie?"

Response to writing prompt: "If I could live anywhere I'd live in LA, cause that's where all the girls be at and I be gettin their number n stuff." (Unfortunately, that's not what we need for passing the SOL - but he did spell their correctly!)

Student, to another student: "You know I'ma be the next Chris Brown - except I'm not gonna be beatin' up Rihanna."

Student: "Mrs. Mays, you always call us darlin'. You should try some new names like sugar lump or pumpkin pie." Another student: "You can call me scrumptious". Um, no. I can't.

Student: "Mrs. Mays, don't worry. I've already told my sister that "stuff" is NOT a 5th grade word. She'll be ready for you".

Me: "When did you become so interested in plays?" Student: "Well, you know, I've just always been dramatic."

As we were going over a sample writing prompt I said "Listen to the way this paper's sentences all sound the same. It's monotonous." Student: "What does monotonous mean?" Me: "It always the same, it's sort of like boring." Student: "Oh", then, to another student "This is monotonous".

I think I could fill up a book with all the funny things they've said and done. They may be challenging, and my days are almost always difficult, but then there are these moments where they make me smile or laugh and I just love them.

My Own Stuff Christians Like Post

Jon Acuff has a hilarious blog called Stuff Christians Like, about many of the funny things done in Christian culture. He writes about metrosexual worship leaders, the holiness of Chic-Fil-A, and the awkwardness of being single in church, among other topics. It's a pretty great site for a good laugh (although, he does have "serious Wednesday" post as well).

The other day my husband and I were running errands, and we were talking about some of the big decisions we have coming up. He's applied to several different graduate schools for architecture (and we just found out he got into the University of Texas at Austin). We'll soon be deciding where to move our little family or if we should stay here (if he gets into grad school at UVA). We're also contemplating what the next steps should be for me in my career, and when we might like to start a family. Needless to say, being two different people, our opinions are not always identical.

I asked him specifically what he'd been praying for in some of these areas, in order to determine whether I needed to "shot-block" some of his prayers and begin praying the opposite to cancel out his requests. (I thought I might even pray for what I wanted a few extra times in order to get my way, because clearly God say yes to the person who asks the most.) He answered my question about how he'd been praying, and followed with "but I always pray 'Your will be done' and ask God to do his will." To me, it sounded like a SCL post.

I grew up in an old country church where the Lord's Prayer was recited weekly, so "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done" is firmly planted in my mind. I also know that when Jesus was praying in the garden He asked God to take the cup from Him, but prayed the Father's will above His own. The will of the Father was of upmost importance in Christ's prayer, and let's be honest, who is a better example of how to pray than Jesus?

However, I frequently catch myself begging, and pleading with God to give me what I want. It sounds a little something like this "Please let JP get into UVA. I don't want to have to move and be half-way across the country. I think it would really hurt my parents for me to be so far away. I also love my church and the friends I have here. I really really want to stay. Please please please" and then I tack onto the end, as an afterthought "not my will but thine be done". It sounds a lot like Jesus and makes me feel a little less guilty about praying for my own way.

Am I the only one who does this? I'm betting not. I think we Christians like to pray for our own way, but add a "thy will" clause, somehow thinking we are appeasing God. We tend to think that we know what's best and we have things under control. Once we have figured out our own will, we plead with God to follow suit.

The error in this is our thinking that our will could possibly be better than the will of God and our lack of trust that God has our best interest at heart. The Bible tells us that God has good plans for us, and that everything works together for good for those who love the Lord. God has it under control and "He is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we could ask or think" (Ephesians 3:20). I am going to try to flip-flop my prayers and petition and plead with God for his will, which is better than anything I could ever hope for or imagine. I want to press in and ask him to have his way with my life, with a strong faith that it will be for my good. Then in closing, perhaps I'll throw in "by the way, I'd love it if ____".

Book Review - Ragamuffin Gospel

I recently finished reading The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. It was a timely read for me as I've been struggling with constant fear of failure, and never-ending reminders that I'm not good enough. Manning's book reminds the reader of a pivotal truth - that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of grace, not works, available to each and every ragamuffin that will choose to accept it.

Manning begins with an anecdotal response to a sermon - "that airhead didn't say one thing about what we have to do to earn our salvation". He explains how our culture's "work your way to success" mentality has sculpted in us an incorrect view of salvation - that we have to be good enough so that we are pleasing to God and can thus be saved. While, as a Christian I know this is not a biblical teaching, it is something that I tend to fall prey into to believing. I found the book to be a refreshing reminder of truth, and an encouragement for my soul.

Manning contrasts the true God of grace with the invented god of legalistic Christianity. He explains how viewing God incorrectly compels us towards works at appeasing him, and gives us great fear when we fail, as inevitably we must. This is exhausting, frustrating, and ultimately prevents us from knowing and loving God for who he is. Manning continues to explain the true gospel (which he calls the "Ragamuffin gospel") and invites Christians to "loosen their halos" and live in freedom, with adoration, repentance and thanksgiving, as a result of the grace they have been given, not because of a checklist or as an act of duty.

I thought the author did a thorough job addressing an issue that is common to Christians who have grown up in church, with lists of do's and don'ts. He reminds us that the gospel that leads to the salvation of souls is not based on performance or merit, but is about grace given to the least of these. I loved the way he used the story of the prodigal son to make the point that Christ loves us as we are. Luke 15:2o says, "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." Manning reminds his reader, throughout the book, that God loves us and runs to us with grace - even when we are a long way off.

I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for this review.

Cleverly disguised as an adult...

JP and I frequently joke that I am "cleverly disguised as an adult" and, it's pretty true. I get along well with my ten year olds. I enjoy playing with them at recess, acting silly, making jokes and generally not taking things too seriously. At a recently held school Valentine's Day dance, I was the only teacher in attendance, and certainly the only adult doing ballet around the room to a slow song (Never Grow Up by Taylor Swift) with students - never mind the fact that I have absolutely no idea how to correctly perform any ballet dance move.

While it's fun to goof around act like a little kid sometimes, there are certainly child-like qualities that one would prefer not to possess as a "grown-up" who is 24 years of age. I must admit that I have a little more in common with my students than I usually care to discuss.

Last Friday we took a practice test for the looming writing SOL test. The kids spent the day responding to a prompt in the form of an organized five paragraph essay. After over an hour of time, one sweet little boy had not begun. When another teacher talked to him about getting started his response was solemn, "I'm not going to pass the writing test anyway. There's no point in trying." Of course, we explained to him that he's a competent student, fully capable of passing the test next week. He struggled to believe this truth about himself, and to actually put forth any effort. I was initially frustrated with him, as, he really is able to pass and then, I became saddened by his low self esteem. After a while, I was humbled, to realize that this is just another way I am exactly like my students.

When I was younger, I loved to sing. I was in my church choir, school musicals, even show choir. (Yes, I did wear a sparkly silver dress as I danced around a stage to show tunes). I also loved acting. I took beginning drama through advanced in high school, and competed in district, regional and state competitions with a One-Act play entitled Blues. I played three roles, a New York employment worker (accent and all :D), a mentally disabled homeless woman, and a poor single mother in a rat infested apartment. I loved acting, just as I loved singing.

When I started college at UVA, something happened. I went to an interest meeting for FYP (First Year Players, a musical group on grounds). I wanted so desperately to be in another play, to be on a stage acting, portraying another character. I looked for a monologue, and practiced a song from a high school musical, but I never tried out. I also went to a meeting for an acapella group, but never auditioned. I was convinced that in a place like UVA, a school composed of students from such high achieving backgrounds, that someone like me - a country girl from Nelson County, VA would never be cast in a play, or make it in an a capella group. Like my student, I gave up before I even started.

I wish I could say that I was older and wiser now, but I'm not. I continue to be afraid to take risks, to go after things I want. I'm so desperately afraid of failing, that I don't even make an attempt at success. I do this with friendships, my career and my Christian life. I worry that someone won't like me once they get to know me, so I become withdrawn and don't put myself out there. I am afraid I might be rejected if I pursue a career shift, or new opportunity. I also get so worried about making a wrong decision and disappointing God that I end up in a sort of paralysis and can't move forward.

Again, I ask, why is it so difficult for me to believe for myself the truths I share with my students? How do they come out of my mouth so easily, but have so much trouble sinking into the depths of my soul? When will I "grow up" and learn these elementary lessons?

A new journal, a fresh start

I'm a person who loves fresh starts and new beginnings. I'm thankful that, in addition to new years that roll around every 365 days, we also have new months, new weeks, and even new days. I don't know about you, but I need to begin anew more often than each January 1st....

Recently, my husband gave me a beautiful journal, with flowers full of color and blank pages just waiting to be filled with thoughts and ideas. I am still wrapping up the final pages in my old journal, but am so excited and full of anticipation for beginning the new one. The old journal is just that - old. It has pages with scribbled words, written in haste due to a lack of time. There are pages with messy "scratch outs" because I made an error in pen that couldn't be erased. It's also something I've had for many years, and even the cover seems dated. It doesn't reflect me or my personality, because I'm not quite the same person as when I bought it.

Many days at school, I have to remind my students that it's a new day. Whether they've recently received a poor score on a test, or had a day marked with bad behavior and a trip to the principal's office, they have difficulty shaking it and moving forward, past their mistakes. I explain to them, with love and compassion that they can let whatever it is go and have a new day. Yesterday doesn't have to define them.

Oh, how much I am like my students. It's easy to be the one saying "yesterday is over, it's done and forgotten". It's much harder to take that in and believe it as truth. I cling to my yesterdays, full of troubles, guilt, shame, and regret. I let them define me and who I am, sometimes to the point of it crippling me. Like my journal, I feel worn, full of "scratch out" mistakes, and a bit messy. I just want a new beginning, a blank page, a fresh start.

And just like I tell my students, the God of the universe reminds me, that this is available to me. I don't have to wallow in my old-journal mess, defined by the blemishes that mar the page of my life. God erases them.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone; the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ.." 2 Corinthians 5:17-18

Oh how wonderful that I am offered a new journal, a fresh start, each and every time I ask and turn to the Lord. My pages are made clean, without spot or blemish, and I am given new mercies each morning from God, who is faithful, even when I am not.

Superlatives

When I was in middle school, I won a yearbook superlative for "Most Talkative". This didn't surprise my parents, who had been called into school each year for conferences with my teachers about how to handle my incessant talking. It didn't matter who I sat next to, conversations ensued, and I made a new best friend (and annoyed my teachers). While I wished that I had won some "better" or "more important" superlative like Most Popular, or Best Dressed (not a slight chance at either), I remember feeling excited to be recognized for something.

Senior year superlatives were an even bigger deal. In middle school, there were numerous winners for each category, so you had to share the glory and fame of whatever title. In high school, one boy and one girl was selected for each, from the whole senior class, and, it was quite a big deal (or so it seemed then). I didn't really expect to win anything - I'd never thought of myself as a person who stood out. But, when they announced the winners over the intercom one day, I remember feeling surprised and excited when I heard my name. I was recognized. I was "somebody".

"Most likely to succeed: Mary Matthews"

Looking back on it now, I'm not sure what exactly that superlative even means. Best smile, best dressed, these made sense. But "most likely to succeed"? I suppose it meant that I got good grades, and my fellow classmates thought I was smart. It probably meant they thought I'd go to a good college, and end up with a good job.

Success is a funny thing, something hard to define. I don't think what college a person attends or graduates from makes them successful. I also don't think it has to do with ones job title or the number on their paystub. Some people do think this way. I was told by multiple people, "You're too smart too be a teacher" or "You're JUST going to teach?" I'd like to say those remarks didn't bother me, but, in all honesty, they were a blow to my pride. I missed the "oohs" and "ahhs" I received when I told people I was a biomedical engineering major who planned to go to medical school. A religious studies major in the 5 year teaching program doesn't get the same reaction. Still, my identity, for so long, was centered around this superlative, and the performance and drive that had preceded it. I had to do great things and be something great. People expected it of me, I expected it of myself.

I feel like over the past 6-7 months, God has been working on breaking down my pride. I don't have to be "most likely to succeed" in the sense of impressing everyone else in order for him to love me, or in order for me to be a successful person. Success might look like loving one of my students when he or she really needs it and helping him or her in substantial, life-changing ways, not like getting them all to pass the SOLs. Success might mean putting my husband and family over my career, and not like winning the Golden Apple. It might look like eventually being a stay at home mom who loves my kids and husband with everything I've got, and not like having a fancy house or taking nice vacations or enjoying other "two income" luxuries.

Though I still am a bit unsure what success means, I know it has to do with following God, no matter where he leads, and NOT worrying about meeting everyone else's expectations.

Oh to be "Most Likely to Succeed" in that way.