I Must

"A year ago, she would have gladly given an arm to get out of Kabul. But in the last few months, she has found herself missing the city of her childhood. She misses the bustle of Shor Bazzar, the Gardens of Babur, the call of the water carriers lugging their goatskin bags. She misses the garment hagglers at Chicken Street and the melon hawkers in Karteh-Parwan. But it isn't mere homesickness or nostalgia that has Laila thinking of Kabul so much these days. She has become plagued by restlessness. She hears of schools built in Kabul, roads repaved, women retruning to work, and her life here, pleasant as it is, grateful as she is for it, seems... insufficient to her. Inconsequential. Worse yet, wasteful. Of late, she has started hearing Babi's voice in her head. You can be anything you want, Laila, he says. I know this about you. And I also know that when this war is over, Afghanistan is going to need you."

This excerpt was taken from "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. Having just finished this book and before that, "The Kite Runner" by the same author, I sit here feeling overwhelmed by the knowledge of what so many individuals have gone through. These books simply make me cry with compassion...gratefulness...shame...empathy? The emotions are full, but indefinable. I imagine myself in Laila's or Mariam's or Hassan's or Amir's places. Can you imagine every day hearing the whistling sound of rockets being shot from the mountains over your home into some part of the valley or town? Every day, wondering if it is your house that will be hit, your friends' home, your grandparents'? Can you imagine the terror of hearing that sound coming closer until you realize it is your next-door neighbor's home they have randomly chosen that day? Or your own beautiful home, filled with people you love? Can you imagine your best friends out taking a walk and never coming home for supper because of random gunfire or rocket explosions? Can you imagine watching your town being destroyed bit by bit? A church today. The school tomorrow. Home after home as the weeks go by. Suddenly, going out of your home for anything is a risk. Neighbors and friends and family pack up and move far away. Worst of all, think of all the dreams you hold in your heart of hearts. The secret hopes. Those of marrying that boy you fell in love with in high school or graduating from college to go to medical school or owning a home or having babies or becoming a lawyer like your favorite uncle. Or seeing your grandchildren or finally going on the honeymoon you never got to have the first time around. The lost dreams...no words can describe the enormity of that. 

Many women in that country have such a struggle of a life anyway due to being married off at 14, 15, 16 to men twice or three times their ages. And some men still force the wearing of the burqua, for to them, it is only the privilege of a husband to see their wives' faces. Of course, this also means no working outside the home or being friends with women whose husbands do not enforce these rules. And then when the Taliban took over, they simply forced these rules upon everyone (From A Thousand Splendid Suns, some of the Talibanic laws-- "Attention women: Cosmetics are forbidden. Jewelry is forbidden. You will not, under any circumstance, show your face. You will cover with burqua when outside. If you do not, you will be severely beaten. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not laugh in public. If you do, you will be beaten. You will not paint your nails. Girls are forbidden from attending school. Women are forbidden from working.")

All this because of being different. The Shi'a and the Sunni. Or because of power. The Soviets wanted control, then the Taliban. Then after September 11, the United States wanted to help, and they began dropping bombs on the city to rid the Taliban; however, to the people that lived there, it was still another year of bombs destroying their homes, gardens, schools, hospitals...Thank God that at the end, things began looking a little brighter, and though some do not agree, Bush had made a good decision and progress began in that country. Yet I simply cannot comprehend that some people lived entire lifetimes in war. Losing children and husbands and hopes and dreams. I try to imagine myself in this situation, here in my home, in my town, at my job, with the circle of loved ones I have. Try to imagine hearing news of a rocket destroying a relative's home and with it, their entire family. I try to imagine not being able to leave my home without covering my face and being forced to quit my job as a teacher because I am a woman or because I cannot risk driving there due to the missiles being rained down on us. Or because I cannot go anywhere without a male relative to escort me. What a life we would have. How many dreams would be shattered. So many personalities would fade and die. When your biggest goal is to see tomorrow, it is difficult to hope or dream of anything more. 

And I am struck by the stark opposite my life is comparatively. I am a woman who works outside the home, with a loud laugh, my own personality, and my own mind. My husband loves me and encourages me to be me. In fact, it's why he loves me. He would be appalled at the rules set down by the Taliban or the traditional Muslim men. As would my father and many of the men I know. We live in freedom-- to leave our homes without fear, to go to church and worship our Lord together and openly, to write satire about our government, to disagree, to have a say in our country's laws, even to impeach our president. We are free to dream big dreams. I struggle with dreaming sometimes because I like to know ahead of time what will happen. This way, I am not disappointed. Yet I realize that I need to dream. For all the women who could not, who cannot, I must. For all the men who lost their dreams of family, of life, of success, I must. And I must continue to seek the Lord, asking Him, "How can I help?" I hear over and over, "To whom much is given, much is required." I have been given much. Much is required of me. But what can I do? What can I do? I want to ease suffering somewhere. Afghanistan is not the only war-torn country in this world. There are so many refugees, so many orphans, so many lost dreams. 

Lord, show me what to do. How to pray. Where to go. What to give. How to give it. Who to speak to. Who to touch. Show me, please. Break my heart again and again. Let me not forget that I have been SO blessed. And others need me because of that. Let me not forget to dream. Perhaps because I dream, someone else will be empowered to do the same. Bless those who hurt. Comfort those in sorrow. Provide for those in need. Hold them, Jesus. Give them hope.

For more information, visit the author's website at: www.khaledhosseini.com or go to the Office of the UN High Commissioner of Refugees (UNHCR) to read about refugees in various countries of the world. Also check out Relief International.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. 

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. 

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? 

Actually, who are you not to be? 

You are a child of God. 

Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking 

so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 

We are all meant to shine, as children do. 

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people 

permission to do the same. 

As we are liberated from our own fear, 

our presence automatically liberates others.

--from A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson

Lord, help me to shine, to be all You want me to be.

(Creativity) Don't Waste Time.

She stared at the burnt orange of the baby sunflower that seemed to glow back at her from under the star-shaped lamp that was hanging over her tiny table. Mixed around the orange were other colors-- a simple purple, a deep maroon, and several shades of spring-like green, though it was October. She had come home from a long day at work to find that her husband had bought flowers. "No reason," he had said. What a thoughtful man. Her eyes glazed over as she stared and she had to blink to bring them some teary relief from the dryness. Her eyebrows pressed hard into each other as she frowned. She had just returned his gesture of love with a quick retort and a stormy moment of tension brought on by her own lack of tact. 

Ugh. My stupid, every-day madness. When will I ever get it right?

She felt as if she were coming around the same mountain once again. She always seemed to be blowing things out of proportion. She had come home to a beautiful flower arrangement housed in the crystal vase they'd received on their wedding day from one of her bridesmaids. It was not often that she was surprised by flowers. And what did she do? She got into a stupid fight with her mother over something that she knew was really not a big deal, and she let it not only ruin her mood, but also the moment that should have been sweet with her husband. 

Living with parents was not a problem usually, though sometimes she wished they were in a house and on their own. However, that was not the issue here. It was herself. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands as she sat on the refurbished cushion of a sturdy, old metal chair. Glancing around, she noticed she had not put away any of her work things. Sighing, she pushed up out of the chair and began to clear the clutter and hang her dress pants. She started to make the bed, and she remembered what her husband had reminded her: "I do not remember the past, Liz. I do not think you are stupid, and I am not adding this moment to all the other moments you remember. You think about all those times when you feel you did something stupid or blew something up that was not a big deal. You beat yourself up. Don't. This is not a big deal. It was just a mistake. Look at it from an outside point of view, and you will see that you should just apologize and let it go. It's not worth being upset-- with your mom or yourself. And I am not upset with you."

Now that she was twenty-three, the days seemed to fly a little faster. They told me it would be this way, she thought. How many times had she heard someone say, "Oh, that feels like just yesterday..." Or perhaps, "Time flies so quickly. I can't believe so-and-so's already graduated from high school" (or college... or gotten married... or had kids...). She knew the reality of this life. Time is a vapor. Life is fleeting. It is one short season of an eternity. Why waste time?

Sitting on the star and flowers patterns of their quilt, she let her feet dangle off the side of the princess-high bed and marveled at the last year and nine months that she had been married. Had it really been that long? And yet it also seemed to be forever ago that she had walked down the aisle, looking up at her father, who had tears in his eyes. She thought forward-- what did her future hold? Would she get 70 years with Marc? Or was today the last she had with him? How many more years did she have with her parents? Her brother and sister? Her best friend? Marc is right, she thought. She knew he was. He was so good at saying what needed to be said. She could feel it in her when he spoke to her earlier that night-- iron sharpening iron. He had been good for her from day one. 

It is stupid to sit in here wasting time, putzing around, being angry. 

She looked over at the door that separated their "home" from the rest of the house. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the curtain. She knew apologizing would be the best. She wanted to. She just had to work up the courage. She stood up, her bare feet hitting the cold, hardwood floors, and padded over to the door. She squinted through the curtain's crack to the kitchen on the other side. She put her hand on the knob and hesitated, looking back at the cat, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, blinking at her. Finally, with a deep breath, she turned the knob and plunged through the doorway to find her mom. 

It Would Have Been Enough

Well, hey, and ok, so it's only been a month this time. :)

I've got a good four weeks under my belt. I love, love, love my students. Each one is so unique and wonderful. The best part has been that even if I come in sleepy or drained, each new class that arrives at the bell never fails to pick up my spirits. There is always someone saying something to make me laugh or to boost my spirits. Examples? Well... there's Chantel, who believes she is a black girl at heart and hates when she has "white girl hair" (she is a white girl, by the way). There's John who is so random. In the middle of taking some notes on literary devices (generalization, flashback, evaluation, etc), he raises his hand and says, "I hate when the pizza bagels are mushy..." Yep. That's all the time, too. There are Trevor and Nick, who are best friends and total opposites. There is Taylor, who is convinced I am secretly a chain- smoker in between periods because I asked him one day if it looked foggy in the room (I don't know... it did.) There's Logan who is always handing me papers and then snatching them away before I can take them. And then there are, of course, the study hall moments... 

"Can I go to the library?"

"I don't know...are you a senior. Only seniors right now."

"What? Don't I look like a senior?"

"Well, I don't know. Do I look like a teacher?"

And all those senior boys trying to get to the library as quickly as possible before anyone else can go. 

And it just goes on and on... 

100% better than last year, for sure. 

God is great. 

Moving on to another important area of my life...Church has been a series of ups and downs lately. We've found out our life group leaders (and leaders of the church) will be stepping down due to some unfortunate incidents in our church. This has been a year in coming, and even though it has really been difficult, I have felt such peace. The reason I titled this blog  "It Would Have Been Enough" is because I was reading a blog by a dear, old friend, Andrea (Waltz) Sersen. In there, her husband said this: 

"I'm reminded of a portion of the Passover feast, where the people remember all that the Lord had done, and after each memory declared, '...it would have been enough.' It sounds something like, 'Had You only delivered us from the chains of Egypt, it would have been enough. Had You caused us to cross the Red Sea on dry ground, it would have been enough. Had you stopped after drowning Pharoah's army behind us, it would have been enough. Had you only fed us manna in the desert and gave us drink from the rock, it would have been enough. Had you finished your work by bringing us across the Jordan, it would have been enough.' All that to say to myself, that had He only saved me, it would have been enough, but He grants us to be conformed into the very image of Christ." 

(Thanks, Randy.)

Had You only allowed me to know You, it would have been enough. 

Had You only given me this loving family, it would have been enough. 

Had You only blessed me with a man who loves You and me dearly, it would have been enough. 

Had You only given me a job, it would have been enough. 

Had You only allowed me to fall in love with that job, it would have been enough. 

Had You only led us to this church, where we gained so much for only a year, it would have been enough. 

All I know (and I'm finding I know less every day that I learn more), is that He is enough. I am so grateful for this year and its ups and downs in work and church. He is good. Always. He will always come through. 

The best place to be is this place where God has to do something. Either He does a miracle in my church or He shows us our next step. Just like He either had to do a miracle in my heart with teaching so that I enjoyed it, or He had to give me a way out by providing another job. I love being in a place where He can't not move in our lives.

Remnants of Summer

It's been forever. 

Tonight, I sit here in the semi-darkness of the room we have at my parents' house. The screen door is open to a deep red and purple sunset behind the trees. A cool breeze is blowing after a sticky, sunny day. The crickets and frogs are chirping and peeping. And best of all, I can hear the voices of Marc and Thomas in the backyard, playing Frisbee. And Mom talking to the cats. And I know Dad is relaxing out on the sofa. Sarah is at college tonight, probably on a Wal-Mart run right now with friends. My family is safe and healthy, and I am surrounded by such love and happy sounds. 

Tomorrow is the last day before the kids come back to school. It really has been a while. Yeah, I made it through my first year. :) Going back is exciting for me now. I have good goals set-- I'm ready to be a better disciplinarian, to handle grades more efficiently, and to fill my time in the classroom wisely. I have a great schedule, and I'm not nervous at all yet. 

Though it's August, it feels like September...the breeze feels like the wind off the ocean. Change is in the air. That's why I love the way God created seasons. We always have the next one to look forward to. We in Pennsylvania and other similar climates are never stuck in one extremity for too long. 

Right now, life for us is always changing. We aren't sure how long we'll live here or where Marc will find a job. But we are excited, as well. We have no ties here right now, we are young, we have no kids (and no plans for any right now), and we love to be together and travel. If Marc gets a job around here, we will be so happy. If not, I am excited, because then we will be able to broaden our scope and perhaps move to the city, go to another country, or whatever! It's all open. What a beautiful time of life. The best part is that we are content, whether we stay here in this gorgeous countryside or if we move elsewhere. I just love being with Marc. 

So...I guess I just had the urge to write. So much has happened, and maybe I'll be able to write about it. Things with my walk with the Lord, with church, with school. Hopefully, I can be a bit more faithful to this blog. :0)

For now, thanks for reading. Happy August!

Beware the Scammers!

Ok, so I haven't written for a while, I know. But today something happened that I have to warn you, my precious reader, about. I received a voucher in the mail about a week ago. It was from Ramada Plaza Resort in Ft. Lauderdale and Imperial Majesty Cruise LIne Vacations. It looked really good, and I wanted Marc to call the 1-800 number. He didn't, so I did today. Well, to make a long (very long) story (and phone call) short, the guy told me I was being offered a 2-night cruise, as well as 3-6 days free stay at Ramada in Ft. Lauderdale. He casually "threw in" other trips to Las Vegas and Mexico, and then at the last moment added three "mini-vacations" to places of my choice. He also offered me a $1000 shopping spree, a $3500 discount coupon booklet, and, when I hesitated, a choice to only pay a down payment of $400, instead of the $800 he originally was going to charge. Sounds excellent, right? 

The problem is that Marc is not home tonight...he has class. I can't throw out $800 or even $400 without consulting him. We are living with my parents, and our biggest expense is our loans, so we have more financial freedom than some (while making other sacrifices, of course), but I still couldn't throw out hundreds of dollars on a whim. The problem was that he told me I could not wait. I had to give him my credit card number immediately in order for the offer to stand. If I waited to talk to Marc, I had to cancel my option to go on this fantastic cruise vacation. I stood firm. I had to talk to Marc. I had to cancel if I couldn't. Finally, he gave in and offered me until 11PM tonight to call him back and put $400 on my credit card. 

I told Mom what had happened when I got off the phone. Being naive, I was unsure about whether this was truly amazing or simply too good to be true. She suggested I look it up online. I googled "Ramada cruise scam" and immediately got 60,000 hits. Below are a few sites for you, in case you also received this sneaky "opportunity" in the mail: 

www.ripoffreport.com/reports/0/205/RipOff0205834.htm

www.consumeraffairs.com/travel/ramada_plaza.htm

I am glad I didn't give in. Giving a credit card number over the phone is bad policy, which my parents taught me. Mom also said all through my childhood: "If it's too good to be true, it probably is..." I'm starting (finally) to believe her. 

Creative Outlet

Finally being out of school has given me the opportunity to try some new things. I found that I really enjoy scrapbooking. It's something I never thought I would like. I don't consider myself especially creative, and I never really had time to just "sit around" with something like that. However, now I've found that it's really good for me... a de-stress outlet. My favorite thing to do is make cards for other people. I have gotten so much affirmation (especially from my sweet husband) after making only a couple that I have decided to throw this out there: if you would like me to make a custom-made, personal card for someone you love, I will only charge you $1.50 for it. Right now, cards cost anywhere from $.99 for the cheap, blank-inside cards to $5 for the musical cards. What I will do is ask you a few questions about that person-- interests, hobbies, style, etc.-- and when I have a feel for him/her, I will piece together a card for whatever the occasion may be. I don't know if anyone will even see

 this or respond, but I would love to make a card for someone you love. Please check out the attached pictures to see a few I've already created for some special days in my loved ones' lives. 

"Time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time." -T.S. Eliot

It's Been a While...

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

Your perfect love is casting out fear...

(Matt Redman)

Sorry for the lag in postings. Lately, I haven't felt able to express myself. So many things have happened, so many emotions. The best and most exciting thing has been that, for me, teaching has become something I can enjoy. So quickly things can change. The line from Matt Redman's song struck me tonight as I listened to it at life group. I was sitting there crying at how incredible God has been to me... wondering how I could go from such anxiety and frustration to being able to take things one class at a time, to love the kids, and to enjoy the day. I am even able to help with extracurricular things! (I am the proud girls' hurdling coach at East Juniata.) Because I want to be. At one point, it was all I could do to make it through six periods, get home, and sit down. Now...I am free. How could God allow this for me? It's too good, too much. 

...it's because He not only did all that, but He taught me to be content and to love. When I see my kids and find so much joy in them... when I see them and try to visualize how the Lord sees them, rather than how my frustrated or annoyed self sees them, then... wow. I truly see them. I am not afraid of them or of my own abilities. God is more than enough for me and for them, and I have a burning desire to magnify that to them. I want them to know so badly the freedom they can have in Jesus. The freedom I have. The way my life is different now than it would have been had I not known Him. 

It's not as if I am able to do this on my own... or even at this point that I am able to do this every moment. But God is challenging me, increasing my strength to live the moment. And it is so good. I pray the same for you. In every situation, every day. 

Now, I have a four-day, beautiful weekend. I will try to post again sooner next time!

PS:

Check out Addison Road, a really neat new Christian group on iTunes: 

I may never be the one that gets the second glance

I may never be the one they call the prettiest

That's alright with me

Maybe I don't follow every crazy passion

Spend all my time trying to get a good reaction

That's ok with me. 

This world is like a trampoline

High and low, no in-between

Jumpin' at the chance to please everyone

That's not me

All that matters is

All that matters is

Your love has set me free

And that's all that matters to me.

My life comes from the One 

Who made the stars and brought the sun

He loves me more than these

So I don't need another identity!

Spring Fever

I could smell it as soon as I walked out of my classroom Monday afternoon. All day, I could see the sun shining, but even when it's ten degrees out, the sun looks warm from inside. However, I knew for sure as soon as that fresh, amazing scent wafted past my face in the English hallway. There is nothing like spring peeking around the corner after days of cold and snow. Spring. I could just SMELL it. I walked out to my car, and I couldn't help but smile. Something just thrilled me to the point of utter giddiness. I had my big exam at Penn State that evening, and it was sixty-one beautiful degrees, so I opened my sun roof and rolled down my window. I cranked some worship music and sang my heart out. My stomach was fluttering with joy all the way to State College. I couldn't even tell you why I was so happy, other than that fresh-dirt-smell... the smell of past years, the beginning of track practice, picnics in my front yard, going for walks, hanging out with friends at the Creme Stop, Spring Break in college... 

As I drove, I thought about these past few weeks and how difficult they have been for me emotionally and spiritually. I felt like February would never end, but here it is-- March. I felt like I would never be ok with this job or find joy in it, but here I am. I'm not in love with it yet, but I have...embraced it, I guess you could say. I do what Mom said and take one class at a time. I have learned to really enjoy my students and to rest in that. And that feeling I've had so often of being a bad teacher, of always doing things incorrectly... it's slowly not there anymore. So softly did it leave that I barely even noticed, until one day I realized I was not fretting about it anymore. It's still there, but I can choose to grasp the truth-- I am a good teacher if I do my best and love the kids. 

Thinking through all of this on paper, I realize I left out an important part of why I am joyful this week. At church on Sunday, Glen talked to us about significance. He asked if we were like he used to be-- judging our importance based on the "Christian ladder"... if you're a life group leader, you're on rung 2. If you're a pastor, rung 5. An elder? Rung 3 or 4, depending on what other activities you lead. I believed in that ladder wholeheartedly. Glen challenged us to be insignificant. Me? Insignificant? I couldn't be ok with that, could I? All my life, I chased significance. I wanted to do great things-- to save the world or be famous or be a missionary or...anything, as long as I would be seen as important. 

We all thought we'd do something significant when we were kids. Doing something significant looks different to the world than it does to God. Such simple words. I know this in my head, but my heart finally heard it Sunday. We need to become like little children. For the first time, I realized that I could not be in ministry or leadership right now, because I believed for so long that that would place me on a higher rung on the "ladder" of Christianity. I thought any regular job was so much lower. Teaching... But God wanted me to be where I am. And maybe it was just to get me to recognize the significance of a non-sacred, non-ministerial job... a normal job... I realized that if we are not comfortable with where we've come from or who we are, we will try to elevate ourselves above the people that are "higher." We cannot serve that person or love that person because we are so busy trying to be better than them. I have not been sure of myself. I have felt insignificant and been very discontent with that. There are those in my life that I see as "higher" than me, and for so long, I have tried so hard to climb higher, to prove my significance. But every time, God would not let me. No matter what I did or talked or tried, God kept me where I was, where He wanted me. Insignificant... This is the lesson He's wanted me to learn this entire time I've struggled. I'm finally glimpsing it. Finally. I will never be "better" than anyone. And I don't need to be. I don't need to strive for that or for people's affirmation. I need to be content with where God has me and to believe that it is significant to him. That has to be enough. What I do has significance to God, and it is the most significant thing I could ever do because it's what He wants for me. This is my path. Glen prayed this prayer: "Forgive us for trying to shard to grow up and have it together and for trying to appear spiritual." Help us to embrace the way of insignificance. 

I Will Run

I will run the race set before me

I will seek Your face as the prize of my life

I will run the race set before me

I will seek Your face as the prize of my life

I will run

I will run

I will run 

I will run

All I want is You

All I crave is You

All I want is You

All I crave is You

My soul pants for God and God alone...

-Misty Edwards

Don't let me fool you.

I don't have it all together. Here's a song that I love... It came on this week on my way to work, and I just really needed to hear it. Maybe you will appreciate it as well today. 

Even Then

It's a fear that keeps me wide awake

In the middle of the night

When the expectations are too great

And the bar gets raised too high. 

So I do the best with what I've got

And hope that no one knows

That I strain to see how high I can

Try to stand on these toes

Until I'm measured

But You know better

So thank You, Jesus, 

Even when You see us just as we are

Fragile, frail, and so far

From who we wanna be.

So thank You, Jesus, 

Even when the pieces are broken and small

Dreams shatter and scatter like the wind

Thank You even then. 

So I put aside the masquerade

And admit that I am not ok

Which may not be the thing to say

But I'm not ashamed to need You

More each day.

We raise the standard

And try to reach You

But we'll never make it

And we don't need to...

--by Nichole Nordeman

Just do the next thing.

My week has (happily) been off to a better start than the previous few. After about a month now of feeling oppressed, depressed, unhappy, and discouraged about my job, the past three days have been such a blessing. What changed, you ask? Read on (though it be lengthy).

At the beginning of this year, I went to my life group on a Thursday night, and I was challenged to seek God for a word for my life for the year. The "word" I literally had in my head was one I had been mulling over before that night, but it was then that I solidified it by speaking it aloud to the group (what a wonderful church family!) That word was "content." Not "content" like what is inside the pages of a book or everything within a specific mailing order or the materials on a certain movie or tv show. Not CONtent. conTENT.

Ok, anyway. To be content. My goal and word for the year. I was actually beginning to feel just that in my job. I was enjoying the day-to-day, the being with students, and everything involved with it. I remember that during one particular day, I was even excited that a new class would be soon arriving. But no sooner was I (finally) settling in somewhat than I was thrown back into a darkness so deep that I felt I'd never find my way out. Have you ever felt this darkness? It's like a black blanket that is over your head. You feel like you're half asleep, so you're not even aware of the blackness, and then, when you finally are aware, it's like you can't get your hands to rip it off. It is so heavy, so oppressive, and so discouraging. This "darkness" as I call it was over my life as a freshman in college-- a very rough time. God set me free from that my sophomore year, but now I felt like I was back in that place again. I didn't want to wake up in the morning. I felt like I couldn't face another day in front of those kids...like I didn't have enough material, like I simply could not keep up this pace for the next however-many-years of my life as as teacher, and like I was just not supposed to be there. I wanted to leave and never look back.

Fortunately, God is so gracious, and this month we not only had four snow days, but we also had two 2-hour delays and our winter break (4-day weekend). I had time to gather my thoughts, to get work done at home, to catch up with grading, and to rest. 

Now I am back in the swing of things. This will be our first 5-day week in a while, and these past three days, I have been doing much better. Why? I realized that I was foolish to think that God could give me this goal of contentment without my expecting satan to try to thwart that. Satan does not want me to be content, because then I could make a difference or draw people to Christ or simply bring joy to a tired heart. Mom has also helped me to realize that looking at the big picture is sometimes not the best way-- I simply cannot look at the next 30 years or the next 5 years or sometimes, I'm finding, even the next full day. "Just do the next thing," she keeps telling me. So I do. And I am finding little bits of joy throughout the day-- in my drive to work, in my quiet 20 minutes before the students come upstairs, in each period with the different faces and personalities, and in my time at home in the evening. I just really cannot look at more than right now at this point in my life. Sure, I plan for the future financially, and we dream our dreams of living in our own home and having kids and enjoying life. But when it comes to the day-to-day, right now I can't look at that in the realm of more than...today... this moment. And that's ok. 

Your grace is sufficient for me.

Your strength is made perfect when I am weak.

All that I cling to I lay at Your feet.

Your grace is sufficient for me. 

(Sunday School song that's been in my head all week)

Haiku blunder

Well, my dears, my husband (the smart man he is) informed me that a haiku must have the following syllable count per line: 

5

7

5

Hmmph. I do think I knew this at one time (even as a teacher, I'm learning...), and so now I have to try to reconfigure my snowcone haiku. Here's my shot at it:

A Blue Razz snow cone

Soaking into the sidewalk 

Filling all the cracks.

Better? 

I asked Marc why some of Basho's poems do not have 5-7-5, and we realized that it's probably because his are translated from Japanese(?) 

And now, because it is a gorgeous day with the sun shining brightly and the snow sparkling like treasure, I am going to go enjoy time with my husband in our cozy room before the work-week begins afresh. 

"Education consists mainly of what we have unlearned." -Mark Twain

Metaphor and Image

This past week, I had the opportunity to go twice with Marc to his poetry class. I even read the materials before I went, and in them, I began to gain an even deeper appreciation of the ideas of metaphor and the image. 

The professor stressed the fact that metaphor is what makes us who we are. We do not live our lives without it. We cannot have any kind of deeper understanding of the world without it. For example, in biology, we cannot grasp the concept of the atom unless we make it into a metaphor-- particle or wave. We know that it is not an actual particle or wave, but it helps to understand its function. In the same way, metaphor does this for us every day: 

"This house is an icebox."

"That girl was a witch."

"His mind is an empty cave."

These are just some elementary examples, but if you pay attention, you will realize that we often employ metaphor to help others understand what we are trying to explain. 

As I was learning more about this concept, we also got into the idea of the haiku-- the image. This is rather different than metaphor. Whereas in a metaphor, you use B to help you understand A, in a haiku, you are simply giving your readers an image. Usually, there is no huge, deeper meaning. 

Basho is one of the most famous haiku poets. What follows are a few of his poems: 

Alongside the roadside,

blossoming wild roses

in my horse's mouth.

On the white poppy, 

a butterfly's torn wing

is a keepsake.

Heat waves shimmering

one or two inches

above the dead grass.

Can you see it?

I never before really looked at the haiku as a thing of beauty, but I realized this past week how intriguing it can be to adequately describe an image in a way that makes you feel like you actually see it. I decided to try my hand at it, because I love descriptive imagery in narrative or poetry. Here is my first try: 

A blue snowcone

Soaking

Into the sidewalk. 

I like the haiku, simply because you, as the reader, can imagine all sorts of scenarios. For example, with the snowcone haiku, you could imagine that perhaps a little child dropped his or her snowcone after waiting all day to get one. You can imagine the intial shock, the mournful look up at Mommy and Daddy, the big tears forming, the little body trembling as they begin to cry, pointing down at their lost treasure. Or you could imagine the end of a summer day-- the carnival is over, the pool is closing, or the vacationers on the boardwalk are heading home. The snowcone is just one of the remaining pieces of the fun that has ended, and the cleaners haven't yet arrived. 

Speaking an image into existence is such a powerful thing, as is writing it. Try it. Haiku or metaphor. They are two different ideas, but they both help us to understand or see the world in a much clearer way. (And they are so much fun to read and write!)

Snow Day!

Well, it's our fourth snow day. Many teachers are complaining that it's cutting into their summer. I don't really mind. I am cozy and warm here in my little space. Marc and I live with my parents in a big room on the end of the house. It's very nice, and we have our own entrance. 

Right now, the room is softly lit with my mom's Christmas star-- a warm orange glow is filling the room at one end, and the cool light of the snowy morning is coming in the large doors at the other end. The picture window is my favorite (and the star is hung right in the middle so that those who pass by can see it), and the snow is steadily falling outside. The door between our space and the house is open, and I can hear my mom reading Scripture to my brother for morning devotions from the other room. Beautiful, precious moment. 

All this snow reminds me of how WARM it was on our wedding day. We got married January 6, and everyone was worried when we told them back in July. "What if it snows?!" "We aren't coming if there are weather issues." "Why would you schedule it then?" Hmmph. God was soo great. It ended up being a record high that day-- 75 degrees. At the hotel the next morning, we woke up (at 2PM...*wink wink*) and found a newspaper outside our door. The headline declared that it was summer in the winter, and there was a large picture of a slightly overweight man sunbathing in shorts, along with members of his family. (And PS... it POURED all night long and all the next day.)

Random wedding tip: If you're looking for a gorgeous, inexpensive way to decorate your reception hall, try this... go into the woods and cut down a large-ish branch, one that looks like a mini-tree. Be sure it's clean of little critters, then drag it inside. You will need something to keep it standing-- we used cement blocks pushed together and covered in white cloth, but you can be creative (do you have a sister, dad, uncle, etc. who loves to be crafty?) After you get your tree to stand (be sure it will stay that way through all the celebrating), grab a ladder and lots of (white!) Christmas lights and start stringing. It makes for a winter wonderland effect, especially inside a gym or banquet hall with hard flooring. (See picture above.) 

Now, I must give credit where credit is due. I had MANY church/family members who helped me with details of the wedding. It would never have been the wedding of my dreams without all of them. Any tips I can give you come from a deeply grateful bride who went through her wedding weekend having the most fun of everyone. 

I will leave you with this note of encouragement. If you know you are to be married, if you know God wants this for your lives, do not be discouraged by nay-sayers and boo-hooers. Many questioned our youth (we were 21 and 20), but we knew we were mature enough. Many questioned the date, but we knew God would make it work. Many questioned, even though we had the blessing of both sets of parents. Again, IF you have sought the Lord and you know your wedding has His favor (and the favor of those who love you), then choose (key word here) to push aside the doubting and wondering, and just ENJOY the process leading up to becoming one with the man or woman you love.

(For Marc)

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments; love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove: 

O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his heights be taken

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-(Best of the best) William Shakespeare

Teaching Can Be Quite Hilarious

Me: "Ok, guys, here are some transition words. If you use any of these words in your papers, your teachers will just weep for joy. These are words like 'therefore,' 'however,' 'nonetheless,' and 'moreover.'"

Student: "Oh, 'moreover'! You mean like... I like Ashley moreover Joey?"


Another example:
I told my English 10-II kids (the highest level I have) that they are some of my best-behaved students all day, but they couldn't believe that I meant it (because some of them get a little wild at times). One boy was taking his time packing up to head to lunch, and he was the last one in the class. He said, "Are you sure all of us are on the top end of your best-behaved? What about Jake?" (Jake tends to get a little loud and obnoxious at times). I told him that yes, even Jake is at the top end compared to some of my other students in the lower levels. And he said, "That's crazy. Do they have Viking backgrounds?" I laughed out loud.

Journaling is always a trip:

Journal Prompt: You are on a desert island. You have 3 items. What are they?

One boy’s answer: I would have my girlfriend and a fishing rod. I would also take the president. Somebody will come looking.


Journal Prompt: What was the best thing you ate over Thanksgiving break?

Student answer: The best thing that I ate was probably the turkey. I ate a lot of it until relatives ate most of it.


Journal Prompt: What are your Thanksgiving plans?

Student answer: Thanksgiving is going to be boring. I will eat. I will talk to people I don’t want to talk to and then I will go hunting and it’ll be fun.


Vocabulary quizzes:
Me: "Next word is 'handiwork'”
Student: “What? Is that the word? I thought it was a sentence or somethin’.”

Wow, already?

It's 4:42PM.

School ended at 3:10. Why am I still here? I tell you, teaching is draining. Some days I think I love it, and then the next day, I wake up despising it. I've never been on such a rollercoaster. Today's our first day back after a four-day weekend. I thought I'd feel refreshed, and I still feel tired.

Sorry...am I complaining?

I talked to our guidance counselor, and I realized something that maybe you need to realize too: Just because you are good at something does not mean that you like it or that you have to do it. Wow. I feel like singing the Hallelujah Chorus with that revelation. I have decided to stick it out for one more year before making any rash decisions, but, my friends, the trial has begun. Maybe guidance counseling really IS my thing. Maybe this is just a piece of the puzzle...still the means to a different end (?) We shall see, shan't we?

Have you ever been here? Do you understand where I'm coming from? I'd love it if you did, because then I'd have a little company here sitting alone at the end of the "I love my job" lunch table, wondering why I don't.

I know God wants me here. I am not finished yet. One day, one moment at a time. As Mom says, "Just do the next thing."


"...but I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep."
(R. Frost)

Imagined Chaos

For the past few months, I've been really stressed. Ever felt like you just can't wake up in the morning? Or like you'd rather just live in a world where every day is Sunday? And you wish every moment could be like Saturday morning right before you wake up (having slept in, of course) with the sun warming the inside of your eyelids and your toes all cozy in the bottom of the sheets?

Yeah. Me too.

Today, though, I realized that I have to do more than sleep. And I also realized something earth-shattering. All this stress and chaos has been rather unnecessary. I was sitting in my grad. class doing an assignment where we had to write down the title of the book of our lives, and "Imagined Chaos" came to mind right away. Strange. What does it mean? I even asked myself. I realized that so much of my stress is imagined. Or rather, it is blown out of proportion to heights that I know I have to be imagining. I work myself up. I see the negative. I somehow miss the peace, the rest, the joy: I am so focused on being frustrated that I can't even relax when I'm relaxing. Teaching will do that to a person in her first year, I suppose. Yeah, I'm a teacher. Tenth grade English. Wooo... even saying it is tiring.

The title of this blog also clues you in to the fact that I'm married. And young. Now, my dears, that part of my life I love. Marc rarely stresses me out. In fact, he tends to do just the opposite. Having only been married a little over a year with a husband still finishing his undergrad degree, I can only give what small bits of wisdom I have gleaned. However, I give those little pearls freely-- from weddings, fights, in-laws, and romance to working full-time, trying not to have babies, being on a budget, and living peacefully. This little outlet of mine will have it all.

It will even have a sprinkling of poetry/literature here and there, because... well, I like it.
So to start you off, for now, here is a beautifully appropriate quote for today by T.S. Eliot:

"Time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time."

Learn it, live it.