Think About It

I never thought I'd be pursuing a career that would lead to such inner turmoil and conflict. I feel like I am being told/taught one thing and living another. Don't get me wrong - the MAT program is great, but I'm having a tough time translating the things I'm learning in class to the actual classroom. Granted, I'm only a student teacher, but I can't even get kids to quiet down when I ask them politely. One of my favorite students told me I smile too much and that's why the other students aren't afraid of me. I don't want to instill fear, just respect.

I was raised by two parents who taught me to respect my elders. Apparently this isn't something that parents nowdays are teaching their children. This is what frustrates me to no end. The program emphasizes that "we teach who we are" which sounds great in theory, but practically, we teach a bunch of kids who are disrespectful. And then we make excuses for them like the kids are the problem. Oh, sure Tommy has a rough home life and yes, Suzy was adopted, but Tommy and Suzy aren't the problem. Their parents are.

I don't understand people that choose to have kids and then don't do everything in their power to provide them with love, safety, opportunity, etc. If you're too selfish to take care of children, don't have them. There's this great thing called abstinence. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of bringing more children into the world who will be victims of abuse, hunger, etc. because you're too self-absorbed to see that your children are taken care of. I just don't get it. If abstinence isn't for you, try birth control. Lots of it.

It's not fair that so many children have to suffer because of their ignorant parents. It's not fair that teachers get blamed for kids being bad kids when teachers are just trying to do their job.

Inspiration on Aisle Two

A brief encounter in the tea aisle of the grocery store left me challenged and inspired. I have to give a passion presentation in one of my classes this week. I have five minutes to share something I am passionate about. My guitar, more importantly, music, is my passion of choice. Being that I'm bringing my guitar - and sharing about how much I have always loved music - chances are someone will want to hear me play and/or sing. This terrifies me. I can sing at church, with a microphone, in front of dozens of people. But sing and play in front of my cohort? Terrifying. Plus I don't have a powerhouse voice; I'm never going to be a diva. When I get nervous, I don't sing very loud. In my head, this sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. In my heart, I want to sing at the top of my lungs.

I found myself sharing this with someone who attends the same church I do - in the middle of the grocery store. He reminded me that "it's about the passion, not the performance." We need to be faithful in the small things, so that God can use us to accomplish even greater things. While in the bigger picture, this may be a small, small event, in my life, it could prove to be monumental. I believe that God gave me the gift of worship. I believe that because of Him, I am able to play the guitar. I believe that He gave me a voice so I could worship Him and share His amazing love with the world. What good is a gift if you don't use it? What good is a light if you hide it under a bushel?

Rise to the Occasion

My heart broke today - and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't for myself. I've only been student teaching for one week, yet I already feel a compassion for students who two weeks ago I couldn't have picked out in a crowd. Now I find myself wanting to defend them, wanting to make all their hurts go away, wanting to wrap my arms around them, as a mother would, and let them know "it will be alright."

But what if it isn't all right? What if the problems plaguing them now never go away? What if the damage caused by parents, friends, and bullies sticks with them, haunting them every day for the rest of their lives? What then?

What about the kid who comes to school hungry, who doesn't have money for food or clothes? Who will take care of him? What about the girl who was abused, who now has suicidal thoughts, who has the emotional mentality of a three year old?

Everyone is fighting a battle. We can't just "leave our problems at the door." Yet this is what we expect students to do.

One of the grad school mantras is that "we teach who we are." I am caring and
compassionate. I am concerned for the well-being of my friends, my family and now my students. I laugh when things are funny, and sometimes when they are not. I dwell on things. I worry, but not near as much as I used to. I like to call things as I see 'em. I am a planner, a problem solver, a thinker. I have a let's-get-to-the-bottom-of-this mentality. I have a disdain for injustice. I don't know how someone can hurt an innocent, defenseless person. I had to fight back tears today while hearing about the homelives of many of my students. I find myself fighting back tears quite often. I think every person has value, every life is worth living. I don't understand violence. I avoid confrontation. Yet right now I find myself wanting to confront all the problems in the world, or at least the problems facing my students. I find myself almost sick with frustration as I contemplate the everyday woes my students, and people worldwide, are facing.

How can I make things better?

I am not just a future English teacher. I am a woman who will take a stand. I am a woman who will rise to the occasion. If I cry, you will see my tears. If I think something is funny, you will hear my laughter. If I am frustrated, you will know, because passive will no longer be an adjective used to describe me. If I teach "who I am" then I cannot sit back and ignore the injustice all around me.

Row, row, row your boat

Today was the first day of the rest of your life. It was also a day which you had been highly anticipating for months, for years. Today you started grad school and you did so by singing a round, or three, of "Row, row, row your boat" with your fellow grad school students. You know which boat I'm talking about. The metaphorical boat the will guide us all gently down the streams of life if we row together as a team.

Your frustrated because your usual cynical nature detests when people make cheesy metaphors out of something that really might just be a boat. But for the sake of grad school, for the sake of good grades, for the sake of pleasing your professors and appeasing your cohorts, you will do your part in rowing the boat until you all have made it safely to shore around this time next year.

And while you do question the validity of the song - Life is but a dream? Really? - you realize that to succeed in life, you may have to set aside your prejudices, open your mind and see the value in other people's opinions, despite how different they may be from your own.

"I'm a plane in the sunset, with no where to land."

I want to do something crazy. Not bad crazy, just random, brave, out-of-the ordinary crazy. The problem is that I'm a planner so while I want to pack my bags, start the car and hit the open road, I know that I a) couldn't get very far with the money I have b) would be incredibly bored by myself c) gravity. Gravity is doing more than keeping me perpendicular to the ground. It's keeping me from saying the things I want to say and doing the things I want to do. I can't stop thinking that for the next year of my life, I'm going to have a very regimented schedule. And while I've never been a very daring person, the idea of living through my daily planner for the next 12 months does not sound enticing. Sometimes I want to throw caution to the wind and then deal with the reprecusions later.

Maybe I'm scared. Maybe I'm terrified. I'm just so bored with the monotony of life. I envy people who roam from place to place with no agenda.

I explained all this to my mom and she told me to count my blessings and I feel like for the most part, I do. I am very thankful for the family and friends I have, the house I live in, the food I eat, the inside jokes we share, etc. But I'm ready for more. I'm ready to have someone to share all this with. I'm ready to spend the rest of my life sharing the monotous things - grocery shopping, paying bills, chores, etc. I'm also ready to share adventures. I'm ready to go backpacking, sleep under the stars, spend the day floating in a boat. God must know all this since He's the one who created me. He must know that all the desires of my heart will come to fruition when vows are exchanged and the sweet words "I do" are at long last spoken. I know, but I don't know, that I need to be content while being single.

I've never wanted to great things. I've never wanted to go on a safari or to own a big fancy house or to have a career. It's times like these when I feel the one thing I want is the one thing I may never have. It's so frustrating because mediocre marriages happen all the time, yet I want a God-centered, God-glorifying, God-appointed marriage and it's not happening. What's the hold up? Is it me?

Speechless

Why are we given so much emotion and feeling only to spend the majority of our life holding it at bay? Words I long to speak will never make it past my lips. Emotions I long to convey will never leave my heart. Arms that I long to stretch around you will never leave my side.

Is this how life is supposed to be lived?

Changing Perspective

We are not invincible, nor have we ever been. Yet we've played the role so well. We've blinded our eyes, covered our ears, opened our mouths. Until now.

There is so much more to see than we've allowed ourselves to take in. There are people hurting, crying, starving, dying. All of this is going on while I sit here trying to come up with a witty Facebook status update.

This is breaking my heart. This is shattering everything I know.

I want to be weak. I want to be vulnerable. I want to feel a burden for the lost. I want to wear the weight of their world on my shoulders.

This leads me to believe there are things I need to cut out of my life. Anything that's in the way of serving and living wholeheartedly, anything that's blinding my eyes to the needs around me, anything that's a waste of time, needs to be removed. I want to be a prayer warrior. I want to have the faith that my prayers will be answered. God will provide!

Waiting...

The hills are littered with snow; my heart, littered with anticipation. You say to be still, to hold steadfast to the truth that I know. The truth is what breaks me.

I feel like my entire life has been a series of cycles and ruts. Summer is no closer now than it was a year ago at this time. I know I'm moving forward, but for what purpose? Yours or mine? When I say, "I want to live for You. Your will be done," I want to mean it with all of my heart. I'm tired of meaningless words and cliche phrases.

Be real in my life. Convict me. Pour out Your Holy Spirit. Let everything I do be a reflection of Your character. Rid me of myself.

What's the point of living if I'm not living for Christ?

The land that I love

I could stand to go home. To sit and watch the rain with you. This great wind couldn't keep me from the land I love. A land of towering, majestic Redwoods and the mighty Pacific Ocean. I could spend my days wandering your rocky shores and meandering through your dense forests.

For now, I'll sit here. Alone with my thoughts. Accompanied by the ferocious wind howling outside. Wishing I could sit here and write all day, but realizing that at this point in my life, writing doesn't pay the bills. It simply gets me through the day.

Poetry in Starbucks - a collection of visible words and not-quite tangible thoughts

Hoping out of bed and thinking about one thing: gifts that unite. From Africa to Africa: gifts from your favorite places. Christmas blend: gifts, but with a purpose. As if the purpose of giving wasn't purpose enough. Shade grown: like the confusion and bitterness that recently started accumulating near the tree in the backyard and also noticeable in parts of my heart.
What you said was true: I do worry too much. I wear worry on my heart and on my sleeve. I hand it out like candy at a Fourth of July parade. It's the stone I'm holding onto; the deathgrip that doesn't want to let go.

Mt Ashland by moonlight

It seems as if all the world should be quietly slumbering, as we sit here on this snow-covered mountain. The fog is hovering above the valley, but we've chosen to rise above it all. We've managed to escape and here we are, you and me and this mountain that welcomes us with open arms. Up here there are no worries, only the stars awaiting the moon's arrival out of the fog. If we stayed here long enough, we could watch the sunrise. Come morning, we'll be long gone and the memory of what was will be as bleak as the view of this mountain from my bedroom window.