Beautiful

Life has been very busy recently, so much so that I haven't had the time to write about it. I finished my practicum (a tremendous thought) and returned to my house and college. I will be honest and say that although practicum was difficult, I grew to love my life as a teacher. I discovered that I can do a lot of things I once thought impossible, such as get up earlier than 7:00 am and actually enjoy the rest of my day. I also realized I have a lot more self control than I used to. That's a gift from God, and I think my kids gave me lots of opportunities to exercise it. I lost a lot of self-consciousness, and fear of doing things that might make me look silly. Playing with kids really does a lot for that. They don't care how funny you look as long as you are there with them. I played tag, ran obstacle courses, played tug of war, arm wrestled and played chess with my boys at lunch (lost in all cases), wore my pajamas and slippers on Pajama Day and played basketball in them,...

I'm laying on the floor with my feet draped over a couch. The room is dark. A dog is barking in the neighborhood. I can hear the faint roars of distant traffic. I am in my grandparents' house, two hours away from home. A few minutes ago I was laying on my stomach, staring ahead at a globe I was spinning, holding my finger lightly against it. My mind went back to when I was eight or so. I'm standing in the basement Sabbath School area of my old church with my best friend Austin. We are eagerly taking turns spinning a globe and holding a finger against it until it stops. Wherever the finger points when the globe stops spinning is where we are "going." "Ooh!! You're going to Africa!" "Aw man, I want to go to Australia! I'm spinning again." "Wake island? Where is that??" "Haha!!! I'm going to the Pacific Ocean!!" We would spin the globe over and over again, never getting tired of imagining where we would go....

In two more days, I only have two full weeks of teaching left. The time really has gone by quickly, now that I look back, but it seemed so slow. I feel as if I have changed so much that I don't even know how to write any more. I guess I've just gotten out of practice. I used to journal constantly; almost every night, sometimes for more than ten pages at a stretch - by hand. It wasn't rich or meaningful thought, but things that I was experiencing and reflections on my issues. Needless to say, as I thought about my problems and analyzed them, I didn't really change much. I thought that I really needed to write in order to get my thoughts out and keep myself sane. It was just another coping mechanism in fact, and a harmful one. Like taught my students today; as sure as the law of gravity is the principle that by beholding we become changed. By re-reading about my past hurts and meditating on exactly how I had been wounded and figuring out the ways my hurt was coming ou...

God commands the light to shine out of darkness I'm sitting here in front of my computer, my head full of thoughts. A short time ago, the tone of my thoughts was primarily pleasant and calm; now a strong breeze is blowing, and stirring the placid surface into turbulence again. My heart sinks a little; when will these storms be past? When will I be continually at rest? It seems like all it takes is a tiny little thing; a word misplaced...a look from someone else...a faint memory...and it all comes back again. And I wonder if I have made any progress at all. But then I recall that these are not my own thoughts. They have been subtly placed in my mind by the enemy. And I have a choice whether or not to allow myself to focus on them. I can resist. I'm not doomed to continue the old patterns of thought, of overthinking, of imagining things that are not real. The only method that has given me any measure of lasting success in the battle against a diseased imagination i...

Wheat Grass, Fire Cider (my mom's anti-sickness p otion) and Liquid Ch lorophyl l in Nutchella Milk. This is what I attempted to drink wh en I was getting sick last week. IT. WAS. DISGU STING. Why does g ood m edicine have to be so ... unpleasant ? So I guess I have another opportunity to be really vulnerable here, and reveal that I still need a lot of work done on my character.  Recently, I made a choice without thinking about how it would look from the outside or how it would affect others. I have a problem with either thinking too much about a decision, or not thinking enough. This time, I didn't think enough. I gave the wrong impression, all the while convinced I had good motives. I was self-decieved, and I'm very ashamed that could happen to me. I thought I knew myself better; I thought I was more mature. It's very unsettling to see your own sinfulness, to say the least. Pride hurts, an awful lot. But instead of just admitting that I made a mistak...

I am seriously thinking about ending my blog and social media accounts. I'll explain: In more fully realizing my own sinfulness, I'm really disgusted with making anything about myself public, whether in writing or photos. I'm learning that I can't really trust what I think or say, because I am very likely to be self-decieved, and I certainly want to take the focus off of my sinful self.  I have decided to serve Christ, and I do not see that writing or posting about myself is accomplishing that goal in any way.  Also, if you, as a reader, are having your own life adventure and seeking Christ, you really wouldn't have the time to read about me. I want you to live in your own reality, not mine. I need use the time that I think about how to share myself with others for thinking about how to share Jesus instead. If the only reason that I write is to publish my thoughts, my experiences, I don't see the point other than that it would feed pride for me and ...

Please, notice me! I pull in to the parking lot just as the music ends, and turn the key. The engine purrs to a stop. I look up to see one of my students and his father walking to the front door of the school. The dad has his arm around his son's shoulder, and they are talking happily. They pause at the door. The dad hugs and kisses his son, and then the son walks in the door while the dad turns around and returns to his beat up car. This is a ritual I have seen many mornings; in fact, it has happened every morning for the past few years this student has come to FSCS. The love between the father and son is so obvious, it's touching. I climb out of my car and gather up my computer bag, lunch bag, and cell phone. As I walk up to the school building, a tiny little first grader who has also just arrived runs ahead of me and courteously opens the door. "Thank you, honey!" I exclaim. "You're such a gentleman!" He dimples and hurries to his clas...