cultivating compassion//practicing colossians 3:12 (part I)

"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."

A few years ago, the Dalai Lama argued that women have a greater capacity for compassion when he called for more leaders who embodied compassion.  He chalked up the woman's ability to be more compassionate than a man to her biological make-up.  I would imagine that is rooted in her maternal capabilities.  Women have the ability to form a unique physical connection with their offspring that I suppose could influence their ability to experience compassion because they can be so deeply acquainted with their own child and how it feels to "suffer with" one who was once a part of themselves.  But I would also venture to guess that socialization and cultural influence play more of a role than actual biological make-up.  It is an interesting theory nonetheless.

I think that I often struggle to understand compassion.  Compassion is usually a word I use interchangeably with empathy, but the more I examine empathy the more I see that these two words are quite different in meaning with each other.   I felt implored to look at compassion more deeply as I am studying through the book of Colossians.  Since I was 17, I have referred to Colossians 3:12-17 as my life verses, the words that I felt the Lord had laid on my heart to live out, particularly when it came to approaching a career in counseling.  They were verses shared with me by a mentor I had my junior year of high school. She encouraged me to pursue a life following Christ in which I utilized how He created and gifted me by providing counsel for others.  She saw this happening already throughout my high school years. I, however, was a little less enthused at the prospect.  It was one thing to listen to a friend and encourage her in a way that hopefully pushed her closer to Christ, it was another to say that was my life's purpose and possibly career.  

Of course, as it would work out, that is exactly what has become of my life.  The role of counselor is often where I find myself.  And even though I attempted to run away from it as a career, I can sense the Lord is drawing me back to it.  The words in these verses, written by Paul, exhort the Colossians to live in such a way that Christ-like characteristics are intentionally put on each day, and sinful inclinations and desires are intentionally set aside.  The former is the key to overcoming the latter.  

Where we begin in this effort is by asserting who we are.  "As God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved" the Colossians, and thereby Christ followers are then instructed to clothe themselves in a list of Christ-like characteristics.  I often viewed the verses that follow as almost impossibilities to achieve.  And that is because I often view things like this, verses like these as work I need to do rather than a work Christ does in me. That is not to say, I passively sit by and ask the Lord to make me kind.  I do that, absolutely, because I recognize, in my flesh, following my most human desires, kindness isn't what naturally exudes.  However, if I am praying and seeking the truth of these words to take root in my own life, because I love the Lord and I desire to please Him then it becomes more of a tangible, real, authentic development in my inner being where kindness is something I aim to be and do.

As I have made my way to Colossians 3, in my study of this short book, I have found myself stuck on the word compassion.  I circled it.  I thought about it.  I defined it. I journaled about it.  I researched it.  I cross-referenced it.  I searched out where else in Scripture does compassion is noted. The most prevalent use of the word is to describe God himself, specifically in the Old Testament.

Then in the New Testament compassion becomes something Jesus acted in and with and then ultimately what followers of Jesus are called to act in as we have the model of God's compassion consistently with us, from the beginning of creation to now.

Compassion literally means to "suffer with"

Bearing that definition in mind and considering what I see in the Bible: Compassion is something that endlessly abounds from the Lord, like grace.  And yet, the recipient of constant compassion, I struggle to clothe myself in compassion day to day.  What I find easier to do is to cut others off, to handle things alone, to turn a blind eye, to ignore and avoid and hide.  That is easy, and relatively painless. To live and act in compassion, that is something that requires deeper understanding and a heart more deeply aligned with the will of the Lord.

So, how do I get there?

I think it begins with identifying what it looks like to put on compassion in my own life.  If I were to clothe myself with compassion each day, how might I respond to those around me differently?  Who might I reach out to as a result?  What might gain my attention because I am seeing and looking through the lens of compassion?

As I began to answer these questions for my own life, people started coming to mind, even things like a trip to the grocery store or walking around my own neighborhood look different.  The important thing to remember is that when compassion became a sort of rule to live by, a forced action, I know I am getting it wrong.  It is not a rule of law that I live with compassion, but rather an inclination of the heart that the Lord is cultivating in me.  Compassionate living is the vision that has been cast over my walk with God.  It is seeing everyone with equal dignity.  It is walking with my eyes that intentionally meet others.  It is not looking out for and seeking my own will in every circumstance, but approaching  each circumstance considering the other.

This is where I begin to cultivate compassion and clothe myself intentionally, daily with the character of Christ.  It is not about attaining perfection, but being somewhere different than I was yesterday.

Fulfilling my own desires and wishes each day do not get me any closer to my God ordained destiny.  But living in the clothing of compassion is a game changer.  It is drawing and shaping my heart to His and that is truly capturing the destiny I believe He is calling us towards.

 

IT//Why I love it & why it is more than just a "horror" movie

  "He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."

In 1990 when Stephen King's It was turned into a television miniseries it was considered a phenomenon.  People loved it.  My parents let me watch it as a mere six year old and I was traumatized.  This red haired clown with treacherous teeth that could morph into bright dead lights and ultimately a strange spider with seeming human arms terrified me.  I couldn't, for years, shake the images that this adaptation firmly rooted in my brain.  Sink drains, sewer systems and clowns became things of horror to me.

And yet, I was equally fascinated and enthralled with the story of It being my first exposure to the brilliant and creative mind of Stephen King.

Fast-forward 27 years.  It has returned.  (Side note: 27 years is also how long It basically hibernates in the novel after feasting on humans...intentional?) When I first started to hear rumblings of the film coming about, I was completely uninterested and had no desire to revisit the terrors Pennywise inflicted on my childhood.  However, after deciding to read the book, it felt necessary to see how the story that I ended up loving on the page would be brought to life on the screen in a new way.  It did take me quite awhile to fully delve in and give into the fear the story would inevitably incite, but I did, and I found that while Stephen King may be considered the king of horror, he is a masterful storyteller and creator of characters that stir empathy and deep affection in the reader.

I have slowly, over the course of the last year and a half, been warming to the works of King.  I cannot recommend highly enough his book, On Writing. It has become a piece I revisit often for writing wisdom that I think is applicable to any kind of writer, even students in the high school classroom.  I have read one another lengthy novel by King and am currently reading a third novel he has written with another horror writer Peter Straub.

It as a novel has a few controversies surrounding it, but before I address those, let me simply praise the wild imagination of its author.  King is genius when it comes to crafting these very lengthy plot lines that not only carry through a 1,000 page+ work, but also cross over into other novels seemingly effortlessly.  

What I loved about reading It was how often I found myself completely lost in the world of Derry and a part of the lives of Bill, Ben, Beverly, Stanley, Mike, Richie and Eddie.  I felt with them, I feared with them, I was surprised and horrified alongside them, and I fell in love with them as they fell in love with each other.

King's imaginative work also included some salacious, if not grotesque scenes that I genuinely feared coming to life on film, more than I feared the antics of Pennywise, the dancing clown.  But alas an R rating for the film justified in the cursing, murder of children and plain horror, forsook the sexual scenes that were downright uncomfortable in the novel.

I went into my first viewing of the film with mild trepidation of how it would work to shock and terrify.  But I mostly approached this movie with great delight to see how these beloved characters, this band of losers whom I had fallen in love with would translate from page to screen .  And in that regard, it did not disappoint, and because of that it felt less like the horror movie it is advertised as and more of a delightful story of friendship and how this group bonds through trauma. Truly, there are few other stories and characters that have impacted me the way the characters of It have.

These characters feel real and tangible.  When reading through their experiences as children and as adults, as far-fetched as they may seem in a true real-life experiential, I can relate way, King adroitly brings the reader right in with them to know and understand and ultimately empathize with everything they are going through.  Somehow, even the worst parts of humanity become understandable because of the way King weaves his words and invites the reader to experience every sensory detail in an up close and personal way.

Beyond the story and the characters themselves, there is nothing more compelling to me than when young actors can bring real, authentic emotions to life in film or television.  I think it is rare to see the natural exude among child actors, especially when called to deal with things in a mature manner rather than in a completely child like atmosphere. Often a child's performance feels very calculated and less instinctual.  Yet these young actors pull off the realistic reactions of fear, affection, and curiousity in a fully formed way for being such tender ages. 

Beyond the cast, this version of It was such a masterful adaptation of a large chunk of the novel.

The noteworthy scenes from the novel that felt so essential to see were brought to life better than I imagined them as a vivid reader.  I was so impressed that I would say the movie was just as good as the book, if not better in certain ways, which is so rare if not non-existent.

The film itself has stirred quite a buzz.  It seems that people are responding well and I would say for the work itself, for the cast, the screenwriters, the director and King, it is well deserved.

I look forward to discovering another story to film adaptation that is done just as well.  They are an infinitely rare breed.

on singleness & online dating//why i did it & why i'll never do it again

I always wondered when the day would come when singleness would suddenly become an awkward or uncommon thing.  I wondered if there was an age when singleness turns one into some kind of pariah.  While I don't think that day has fully come, I am beginning to feel it is well on its way.  Singleness becomes a weird identity marker when you live in a world where you are the only one who is.  If all your friends, family and co-workers are married, suddenly you are an outsider that doesn't quite fit into their worlds.  There are conversations you cannot rightfully contribute to and experiences that you have that they can no longer relate to and have somehow lost memory of what it was like. 

I think one of the greatest issues with singleness, particularly singleness and the female is that society, the church, our families, and even our dearest and most trustworthy friends don't quite know how to handle it or how to accept it.

Singleness never seems to be an acceptable life choice, rather it is something that unfortunately befalls you, that many would suggest could be easily remedied if you just opened yourself up and let it happen.  Many well-meaning friends and acquaintances often question if there is a guy on the horizon, or how I am going about meeting someone.  Any lack of effort or uninteresting tales are not what they want to hear.  Sometimes I find myself embellishing the truth to escape the conversation quickly.  Here are some of things that have been said to me and similar sentiments that have been repeated quite often as of late:

• If you just stop looking, I promise that is when he will come along.
• You're so beautiful, I just don't understand why don't you have a husband.
• Take this opportunity to do all the things you can't do once your married.
• Work on you.  Be the best that you can be, then he'll show up.
• Hey, I know this guy who just happens to be single too.
• Why don't you give online dating a shot?  I know this person who met someone on (fill in every possible dating site here).
• You have to put out the "I am open" vibes.  Guys need to know that they can have you if they want you.
• AND THE BEST ONES FOR LAST:
• How old are you?  Woah! And you're still single?  Don't you want to have kids? 
• Gosh, it must be hard finding a man when you are taller than most of them.    ***I have failed to add the sarcastic replies that I rarely verbalize in response unless you catch me on a bad day.

These kinds of sentiments more often that not come in the form of unsolicited advice.  I know that many people in a variety of life situations suffer from the same kind of unwanted input on how they choose to live their lives if it differs from societies norms. All this to say, as I make my way deeper into my thirties, I find more and more that singleness suits me.  And as I grow and continue to build a life of my own, I find that I am also navigating a strange path that not many can shed light on or provide wisdom for.  It is a unique road in which I am trying to confidently forge my own way, while remaining open to possibilities outside my realm of thinking and believing, and maintaining boundaries and a guard over my own heart so as not to give way to living a life contrary to my values and prayerfully never ever settling for what feels safe. So I work to remind myself why my life as it is now is a really good one.

1. I enjoy the freedom and power of decision that my one wild and precious life holds.  I enjoy handling my own affairs and deciding how my place will look, how I will spend my Friday evening, when I work and when I take pause and for what.  If this sounds selfish, in some ways it probably is.  I recognize their are elements of selfishness that are cultivated in living as a single person.  The more comfortable I grow with my life station, I often joke that I am too selfish for marriage or parenting.  The greater truth is that I relish the freedom this season of life allows me to be for others and do for others what my married friends sometimes cannot. I fully recognize that marriage requires bending, accommodating, seeking permission, and ultimately deciding as a team what will happen and when.  None of which is bad, and I imagine with a good person whom I love, I would be quite willing to enter into a contract that involves such cooperation.  And while I strive to remain absolutely open to the idea of meeting someone someday with whom I am willing to compromise and accommodate, if/when that day were to come, I certainly would want to know and remember in the season of singleness I am in that I fully relished the unique freedom this life affords me. I do not believe marriage strips one of freedom, however, from my vast observations, marriage would significantly alter the life I am currently living.  Therefore, I am so thankful for this season and the life I can build for myself (and my dog).
2. When I was in my early twenties, I think that some part of me fully expected to be married young.  Mostly because I had met someone when I was twenty-one who I thought I would marry.  When that didn't work out, I fell into a deep depression.  It was a depression that had actually begun while we were together, because I think something in me knew, I was trying to hold onto something that wasn't good.  Regardless, I thought for a long time after I was missing something.  I thought that I would not find true joy apart from marriage.  I am thankful for the season of singleness which followed.  I am thankful that I've learned to weather heartbreak.  I am thankful that I have seen that things don't always work out.  I am ultimately grateful that I know marriage and a man is not the answer.  I have found joy in so much else because of the freedom singleness has allowed me. I've explored places with open eyes that are purely focused on what is before me, not who is with me. I think I experience nature, pets, friendships, work and writing in way that would look different if I were not single. And ultimately I think there is a unique intimacy with the Lord that is cultivated that  I don't think I would have necessarily delved into had it not been for being single. True joy, real, authentic, deep-seated, unshakeable joy goes much deeper than my relationships and how they unfold.  And I am so thankful to discover this, so that when and if marriage comes about for me, it will not be my end all, be all and if it is taken from me, it will not destroy me.
3. Here's the thing, I cannot speak for others in this.  I only know what I see and how I feel, so my take on this idea of "true appreciation" is extremely biased.  That being said, this idea was first introduced to me through an episode of 7th Heaven.  In the late 90's, when I was an avid watcher I can directly recall an episode that depicted a specifically poignant conversation between all-knowing father/reverend Eric Camden and his second daughter Lucy.  Lucy was feeling quite miserable about not having a significant other while all her siblings/friends seemed to (I think she was 13 in this episode, which is utterly ridiculous, but also beside the point). Kind and patient father Eric pointed out that in the waiting Lucy would find when the time did come for her, she would appreciate it that much more than those it came for so easily.  Trite and banal as this scene may seem, it spoke volumes to 14 year old me who too had never had a boyfriend when it seemed that everyone else in the world did.  A lot of my life has been about waiting.  I am accustomed to waiting...when it came to getting my driver's license, having my own car, my first date, my own place, a real job, a decided career...all of it seemed to take a bit longer than my respective peers.  Sometimes I would resent and bemoan the waiting, wondering why it was me who couldn't have what seemed to come so easily for others.  But in the same, I still have deep appreciation for those things that took a bit longer or have yet to come.  All that to say, not being married and for that matter not having children puts me well behind my peers...but if it does happen, when it does happen, I can tell you one thing is for sure, I will appreciate the crap out of it. 

So, with these top three reasons shared, I hope it is clear that while I cherish my singleness, I also maintain hope that someday I may meet someone who is worth sacrificing the "full freedom" for, who isn't my answer to deep-seated joy, but is someone who I can create something I truly appreciate with.  I definitely don't plan to be single forever, but in the same I can live in contentment if that were my life's journey.

To the greater point of this post, it needs to be documented why I tried online dating and why I'll never do it again.  Today my subscription to eharmony ended and I did a happy dance.  I've done online dating twice in my life.  The first time was in 2011, at which point in my life I was fresh out of grad school, a mere 26 years old, ready in my own estimation to settle down.  I was little freaked out at the time because it was mid-August and I still hadn't landed a teaching job for the 2011-12 school year. The prospects looked bleak.  A friend of mine and I had agreed to give online dating a go with the reasoning of "what the heck is holding us back now"?

So we did.  I created a carefully crafted profile on a Christian dating site intended to show off my best self and I paid for one month.  One month seemed reasonable to meet my future someone.  Oh, how naive I was.  I did end up meeting S within a week.  He wrote what is by far the sweetest and most intriguing message I have ever received in my limited experience in online dating.  What carried on from there was about a week of online communication through the dating site, and then eventually sharing personal emails, to phone numbers, to meeting in person.  S was the only person I communicated with during my month on this dating site and I would proceed to date him on and off for the better part of a year.  S was very clear from the get go that all he was looking for was friendship and to take it slow and to see where things go.  I agreed, all the while, half-expecting him to fall head over heels for me and propose within the year.  Again, what a naive 26 year old I was.  S was a bit older than me, divorced, with two kids and in the end he definitely was not the guy for me.  While he had the height thing going for him, it eventually became clear that our chemistry pretty much ended there.  What I discovered through that experience was the disservice of online dating, though I did not realize it at the time.  What I found with him was that I was constantly required to defend my worth.  I had to live up to the parameters of the profile, and while I believe I presented an honest portrayal of myself, for S, and his idea of who I would be as a result of the profile, I never seemed to measure up.

After this experiment/experience, I decided to let life happen, and let dates and meeting men a natural unfolding of experiences and places. From 2011 to now, my non-online dating life has been an odd smattering of men who I either met randomly (and by randomly I mean grocery store parking lots, Starbucks lines, Barnes and Noble aisles) and of course, there are those dear friends or co-workers who can't understand why you are still single and believe they know just the right person for you, so you agree to a few blind dates along the way.

Fast-forward to 2017.  

When I walked into 2017,  I was feeling a little lost in my way in life.  At the end of 2016, I met a really wonderful, truly nice guy who a dear friend had set me up with.  On paper, he sounded great.  And in real life, he was equally great.  This was a first in a long while for me.  He was truly, in many ways "the whole package".  But I had no peace.  I can't explain it any other way than that.  I just had no peace.

I came to a clear conclusion.  I was okay being single.  I really was and am.  I never wanted to nor do I want to settle.  I never want to get to a place where I am with someone who is good, but I don't have peace about it.  And yet, I was plagued with a certain longing that had been brought to greater life over the last year because of new friendships and introductions of what I deemed to be examples of good marriages, marriages that I in turn longed to have.

So, with the encouragement of a dear friend, I embarked upon a journey on Eharmony.  I am grateful that I did, because how else would I have realized that online dating is soooo not for me.  The basic breakdown is this: men and women get to create profiles that must follow what the dating site dictates. Eharmony was an intentional choice for me after researching dating sites because of the length this site goes to deem you psychologically competent to enter into a dating relationship.  The emotionally/mentally unstable need not apply.  At first it was kind of a running joke with myself: will the site allow me on to create a profile?  All emotional baggage aside, yes, apparently according to the parameters that eharmony lays out, I am fit to pursue a serious relationship.  So I proceeded.  And all was fine and well to begin with.  The profile set-up in some ways ends up backing you into a corner.  One example of this is without knowing said person who maybe matches your profile preferences, it is hard to decipher whether tacos in their top 5 most important things in their life is serious or written in jest.  And maybe I am reading too much into this, but if they put "Christian" as their religious affiliation, but nothing else on their profile seems to be demonstrative of this truth, I admit, I am a bit skeptical.  I know it's not perhaps fair, and I probably fall victim to similar assumptions, but I digress.

What it all boils down to is this: you get the gist of a person.  You know their religious affiliation, whether they like to smoke or drink, and if they are into dogs as much as you are.  You like his profile, or he likes yours and a conversation may unfold, and then you meet, and then you hold each other to what was written on the profile.  And we get used to this kind of meeting and this initial cultivation of the possibility of a relationship.  It works for some people.  I mean, I've seen the commercials.

It doesn't work for me.

There is so much more that I demand. Online dating seems to become a last resort for many.  Or it is something that we blame on our technological age.  The running line being how can we expect to meet people authentically face to face when we are always on our devices?  The experience of online dating actually deterred me from wanting to date at all.  It led me to question myself more and tapped into insecurities I didn't even know I had when men would send me messages asking to know things and understand things about me and my profile that I have never even shared with my closest friends.  Men on these sites tend to expect that you are willing to hook up upon first meeting.  I soon realized a month into my online dating journey that I had lost sight of and faith in who God was growing me to be because I was starting to try to be the woman these men who were contacting me seemed to want.  It led me to wonder more than ever if it is even a remote possibility to meet a decent man.  It led me to question if every initial meeting with a man would ultimately be a let down because he demanded to know my worth as he saw fit. 

I am glad I did it.  I am glad I saw what I saw and I learned what I did.  I don't think I'll be meeting potential dates in the online dating world.  Instead when pressure to find someone seems the heaviest, I am taking a step back.  When I feel uninvited in the world I am living in, I am choosing to walk with the Lord in faith that His plan is better than mine and anything I can dream of conceiving.  I am choosing joy in the freedom of singleness.  I am choosing to appreciate what I have in front of me, and in the lonely, in the feeling less than everyone else and left out of a bigger picture, I am praying to set an example with my own life.  That single or not, we can all fully participate in the world and in this life and have access to the same joy and hope as any other human being.  I want to make way for deeper acceptance for one another, no matter what our lives look like in terms of status.  I am going to rest in the quiet of a single life not bombarded by the noise of what society says I should be.  I am going to walk with the Lord and strive to listen closer and follow in obedience to who He is calling me to be.

summer melodies

i've been lacking a bit of inspiration and drive lately. it feels like an uphill battle to even do the most mundane of tasks.  it is especially disheartening to encounter this battle in the summer season when there is so much freedom to do as i please.  it is hard when it feels like nothing pleases.  i know i'll snap out of it.  the usual remedies aren't working their magic like they usually do, but they are helping a bit.  getting in the word, taking a walk before dawn, watching a movie that makes me feel something...these have helped. i am in a bit of a reading rut...i haven't been caught by a book lately and i think that is starting to get to me...so i turn to tunes.  as i tend to remember seasons best by the music i am listening to, i am trying to capture this span of time, even in its uninspired-ness and feel and be in the moment.  these are the summer songs that are currently breathing life into my soul:

here & now

"Though we see the same world, we see it through different eyes." ~ Virginia Woolf

I find with age, that it is increasingly harder to pay attention to what is in front of me, to be in the moment that I am in currently.  This was my vow for 33.  That I would live in the here and now.  And yet I often find myself ruminating on tomorrow, wondering what the next five years hold, worried about what they might not.  I often spend time pondering the "what ifs" torturous and glorious as they may be.  Sometimes they are things I don't even put words to, rather I toss images around in my head and sit with them for a moment and then release them just as quickly before they can become a real, tangible thought or prayer.

Early in the summer season, I am reminded with deep gratitude that I am walking into a time and space where I feel more free to be in the here and now.  I can stay in the present and fully address what is right in front of me, because this sacred season allows me to.  I am drunk on summer and the restriction free days.  And yet it too is overwhelming for in these long summer days I have the freedom to go to places that the distracted days of fall, winter and spring shield me from.  Summer is where I begin to let my guard down and find a place where I can once again begin to unfold the true self and shed the false outer layers of she who protects me from a cruel and at times frightening world.

You see, the version of myself that I bring to the table in those other 10 months of the year feels like someone quite different than who I really am and find myself to be in space and time the summer season gifts me.  In more constricted and obligatory times I often find I have to pretend to make it through.  I wear the masks that make it okay for me to live and participate in the real world.  This person, this false self, at times a stranger to me, and other times the most intimate of beings, I find needs things that the truer parts of me (the Imago Dei) do not demand when I am able to detach and simply be in the here and now of a quieter, less busy, ultimately safer place.

In summer I am fortunate to find myself taking longer walks, sitting near the roar of the Pacific, venturing to new places, moving at a pace better suited to my heart and soul, writing and reading as many words as I can, living sublimely in the comfort and love of my God.  And I wonder...how do I bring a little bit more of this into the other 10 months of my year...where I can truly be in the here and now without as great of a struggle and pain?

I am old enough and wise enough now to realize I cannot encapsulate this perfection into every moment of my life.  Those other 10 months of the year that demand and expect so much of me, also grow me in ways, stretch and challenge me to do good and hard things, to be others minded in a much more perceptible way than I can be in the beauty and quiet of the summer season. And for that I am grateful.  But as I unwind from the whirlwind, I find that parts of me are wounded and broken that I had not realized because I was hardly in the here and now to see and know and tend to what was really going on.

As I reflected over the last few weeks, I realized where the struggle is rooted in.  So much of this discovery is rooted in my study and understanding of the Enneagram (a post on that journey for another time) but what I uncovered is that so much of life in the real world, in my current job, and even in certain relationships demands that I defend my worth.  The struggle there is that my worth is tied to the wrong things, yet they are the things that most everyone else would say determines the value of a person.  Therefore, ten months out of the year it is as if my worth is under attack.  And while some do not intend to, they do make certain ideas and outcomes the true measure of the worth and value of your entire person.  Before I realized all the false things I tied my worth too, I realized that I had become extremely fatalistic in my outlook on things and people and life in general.  Everything became an "oh well, this is just how it is going to be."  I was defeated because I didn't feel like I could/can really defend my worth or the worth of others for that matter if our worth is tied to such shaky things.  Worst of all, I stopped searching for God's healing, grace and mercy in all of this, because it was hard to stay present in it.  Instead I just believed this is how it is, and this is how it will be.

To cope with such ideas, I turned to the quick fixes, all of which, of course are more damaging and ultimately dragged me to lower levels of shame; my worth completely under attack not only by the world, but also by my own hand.

It's funny, so many of whom I work with, those I live and do life with, don't see much of any of this the same way that I do.  Hence, the Woolf quote at the top of this post, we experience the same world, but our experiences of it are quite unique, just as our view of our own selves and one another tend to differ.  I am grateful for these other eyes that see the world in different ways, however, it doesn't necessarily shift my own views, perspective, ideas about of all it in any automatic way.

Instead, I find myself returning to where 2017 began.  To believe. As I breathe and be...as I live in the here and now, I really begin to again confront that which my belief is rooted in.  What do I believe about God?  What do I believe about myself in relation to Him? What do I believe about myself as human being who has worth and value?  What do I believe about the worth and value of others?  And the answers that come about to these questions determines precisely what I am fighting and living for every day.

So,  I thank the Lord for the summer season.  More specifically, for the opportunity to explore, question, renew, discover and simply be in the here and now.

thirty-three//where i've been & where i am going

 

this time it's different.  i didn't have a wish list.  there wasn't a specific prayer on my heart attached to an expected outcome.  instead i am moving with the moment.  i am paying attention to what and who is in front of me.  and it is so vastly different from what i know.  i am letting go of my future fixation.  i am laying down my desire to understand why.  i am seeking truth in what is right now.  i am not stuffing down what is painful.  i am learning to confront the pain and live in the context of the world with the truth of His word firmly rooted in my heart.  i do not think i deserve any particular life anymore.  and for once, that doesn't come from a place of inadequacy, rather it comes from a place of knowing that i am seen and known and loved by the God of the universe and when it comes down to it, i truly believe that is all i really need.  because those instinctual needs: food, water and shelter, He meets and He has instilled in me the trust that even when i don't know where or when; He will provide.  and those deeper needs: connection, intimacy and hope, He shows up and freely gives.  therefore, what can i possibly demand?

nothing.

so, this is my prayer for 33: to relinquish control. to stop bemoaning what doesn't seem fair.  to be awake and alert to the heaven meets earth moments and to be a part of His kingdom come.  to recognize and know and thereby live out what i am here for.  to shine a light, to bear His beams of love, to be to others what i can freely be in this station of life i find myself in.  to let the Lord break the ties of selfishness and open myself up to what He has in mind.

Lord Jesus, this is my humble cry: to be Yours, a ready and willing servant, attentive and available.  You, Lord are the lover of my soul and I could not ask for anything better.  Jesus, all my heart belongs to you, every heartbeat longs for you.  And I am so thankful to be known by you.  Lord, lead me into deeper intimacy with you in this new year of my life.


 

disappointment//determination and finding wholeness in grace

Lately I've been noticing the small things.  And each noticing has led me to this simple thought: God cares about me.

Matthew 6:26 "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?"

I love this verse.  It reminds me, in my own smallness and often pervasive feelings of unworthiness, that God sees me and cares for me.

It is not as if I operate under an ideology or a theology that says God doesn't care for me, but that is often just the message that my feelings inform me of.  I am not worthy to be cared about, by anyone.

Why is that?

Well, a year of mandated therapy (for a masters program in counseling psychology) as well as 8+ years of spiritual direction have led me to more than a few reasons and origin stories that answer the question as to why.  And having walked down those paths a time or two, I have been able to move past some significant roadblocks and ascend a spiral staircases or too (more on that later).

But still, sometimes, something happens and the feelings they creep up rather cunningly and I am left with the feeling of once again being a disappointment and feeling utterly unworthy of anyone and anything.

Part of it is my normal.  It is almost my own way of being...to live in "unworthy", accepting the idea of being a perpetual disappointment and perpetually disappointed.


As I am a people please-r to the core.  I want (for the most part) people to feel happy with me.  And when I get that isn't what's happening, my automatic default is: "What have I done?!?!"

Reality would most likely point to nothing.  However, my own false self and her grand ideas would say, "you most certainly have.  It is all your fault that he/she is not happy.  How dare you?!"

And so, I struggle with defining the reality of the situation.  It is hard to understand how much responsibility I hold and how much weight should be placed on that responsibility.

Lately it seems I am on a great track of disappointing people and they have let me know in subtle ways.  And in truth, the greater issue has been not knowing how to remedy their disappointments, because I feel unable to appease them or give them what they need.  Which then leaves me with wondering whether I am at fault for not being enough for them, or if it is their demands that leave us at this impasse.

Regardless of the answer, I found myself spiraling down deep into an ocean of desperately disappointing.  And I couldn't breathe.  And I couldn't see straight.  And I had to reach out and admit that I couldn't swim to shore on my own. I would drown if I hadn't cried out.

And that is where the light often breaks through.  When I realize I cannot make sense of the mess on my own, I cried out.  I stopped trying to fix and please and repair and appease and instead I simply whispered in defeat, "I can't."

"I am so, so sorry, but I can't."

And worse yet, that "I can't" was followed with the unknown of why.  There is no explanation to offer.  And trust me, I need an explanation, even if you don't.

But I cannot explain.  I have to sit with and in the truth that I may be an utter disappointment to myself and to you and perhaps to a myriad of other people.  And the admission that I cannot fix it, any of it, it is when I think I am at my worst that grace invades the space that I am in.

All because of GRACE, I find my way.

All because of GRACE, I move toward wholeness.

All because of GRACE, I can move out of the disappointment, beyond the unworthiness, and determinedly toward healing.

Grace, this majestic and wondrous gift.  Grace, a gift I do not often marvel at nor appreciate. And yet it is worthy of endless contemplation and adoration.

Grace allows me to receive criticism without it defining me.

Grace makes it safe for me to longer hide when feelings of unworthiness pervade.  Grace speaks worthiness over me.

It is easy to hurt others or ourselves when we don't let grace do its work.

To Him, the Grace Giver,  I am worthy and I am whole and I am seen and I am loved.

As I grasp His hand and let go of my need to control and be controlled by the negative, I walk toward a life that is increasingly free from the need to please and ever filled with the kindness of His grace.

best lines//january joy

I want a warm handshake from a slow and simple life.

love//the first time around

Love, the first time around, is messy and fast and all together muddled and perplexing.

Love was the first time you put your hand on my knee and and I forgot entirely how carsick I was.  It was the last time you really looked at me like somehow I was magic as we sat together in the front of your Tacoma.  I had spent so much of our conversation looking out the window, only to turn and find you staring at me smiling.  That smile with those ever deepening lines around your eyes, it always got me.

Now, I can't seem to remember the very last time we spoke.  I don't think I etched that moment into memory, probably because I was too hurt and bitter after everything happened. What I think I remember is one of the last times we spoke, when you broke our coffee date because you forgot you had class that night.  I remember wondering how it is you could have forgot such a thing as having class?  However, it would be the same excuse I would use only weeks later to break a date myself.

I remember clinging to your grey sweatshirt when we sat together in the nosebleed bleachers of the baseball park about four months after we first met.  Everyone else we knew was spread out in the rows in front of us chattering away.  You had made your way back up to sit with me and my friends dispersed.  There we were together, in the beginning of it all, among a crowd, but feeling like we were the only two people in the world.  I pretended to be into the game, saying something about the runner on 2nd, and you said you didn't care about the game, you just wanted to talk to me.  You said, with your face turned toward me, while my eyes were fixed on the field, that you wanted to know everything about me.  My heart raced as I felt the intensity of your gaze and the weight of those words.  I smiled and pulled your arm into mine because it felt like such a very safe and natural thing to do.

The moment I got home that night, I penned those words in my journal.  They felt too important to not record. No one had ever said anything like that in my whole 21 years of life.  I didn't ever want to forget them, no matter how things would unfold from there.

Two years later, I threw that journal away, when the idea of us was no longer in question.

I heard about you recently. You found a wife that you met online.  You have a son and a daughter.  You work hard to provide for them.  You do the things you love while building that little family of yours.  When I heard the whole story, I smiled.  I was really, truly glad for you. 

A year after it ended, you told me love was a choice.  You had a beer in your hand and you were acting so nonchalant.  So many people surrounded us and the music was loud.  I felt dizzy.  I wanted you to come outside with me, but I couldn't muster the courage to ask.  I imagine you would have.  But you continued to wax poetic saying that we get to choose who we love, and I remember thinking, how do I un-choose you? You went on to lament the many girls who had walked away recently.  I wanted to ask why you didn't care that I was happy to stay, but instead I slipped out of the party and drove to the lake and parked in the dark of a late Wednesday night and cried.  I must have cried for over an hour.  I put way more hurt on your words than you probably ever intended.

The first time you asked me out was to a bbq at a friend's apartment.  We barely spoke the whole night, but I remember you watching me from the balcony as I sat with the other girlfriends in the living room.  And I thought, this must be heaven to hold a man's eye like this.  Every time I would glance up and catch your eye, you would wink or smile.  It was nice to be seen and known by you.  It was assuring in a way I had never known before.  I loved when you told the other girls you were going to "steal me away".  I took your hand knowing I would follow you wherever you lead.

Last night I tried to find the one picture I have of us together.  I started to cry when I thought I might have thrown it away by now.  But I hadn't.  It was buried in the bottom of a box of pictures from college.  We are in our graduation gowns.  You are wearing your cap and I am wearing my hair full and swept to the side.  My smile seems a bit sad but you seem genuinely happy.  Your arm is around my shoulder and your hand lays across my chest.  My hands are holding your arm.  We appear at ease with each other.  My head is resting against your neck.  I suddenly am startled by the memory that it was moments after this photo was snapped that you told me you couldn't come to my graduation party.  You didn't give a reason and I didn't ask.  I just accepted the broken promise all the while thinking that was when I was supposed to introduce you formally to my parents with the thought that you may just be the man I might someday marry.  

I stared at your face a long while last night searching to find the man that I thought I loved.  I recognize now that love stories digress in their course and sometimes they don't end with getting the guy.

I suppose it was the picture she posted on MySpace that shifted everything for me.  You and her and them.  Sharing a meal.  Playing games. You had told me the day before I saw that, that pursuing me was the best choice you had made that year.  And yet, those words spoken by you did not fall on my ears the same way.  There was always another her.  The whole way through.  I was just too naive to see it.

My therapist said it probably wasn't love.  But let's call a spade a spade and say it was.  It was for me because it was life-altering.  My therapist mostly heard about the ways in which what we had was so debilitating and crippling for me, so I can't really blame his conclusions.  But for you, I always wonder, maybe it was love, and you were just able to love many at the same time.

I don't actually know what to call that.  Maybe such an idea strips any authenticity from the love, but I can't discount the good memories.

I am pleased to hear that you have become the man that I think I always knew you could be.  I am pretty sure if I had to do it all over again, I might not even change one thing, if it means we both could end up in this same place and take the same paths that we did to get here.  I'd say it was worth it.

what i am listening to//the nightlab (oscar isaac in all forms)

belief//2017

This year I am choosing to believe.  I am deciding that belief is a path to a better life.  The idea itself seems so basic.  After all, I often refer to myself a believer and I often attest to the many things I believe in.  Yet I find what has really shaped the past year of my life is a lack of belief.

As the Christmas season rolled around, I revisited the story of our Lord's coming to earth as part of an annual tradition of preparing my heart for the Christmas celebration. And once again, the Lord revealed this story, His story through a new lens. And I don't take this lightly or for granted.  Because a story, one that you've known since childhood, one that you've read over and over and over can grow quite dull.  And after 25+ years of consciously reading it and understanding it, one might be hard pressed to find something new in it.

But alas...

this Christmas season, I prayed for new eyes to see and experience the story, yet again.

 I examined Luke 1, I watched The Nativity Story (2006) for the first time, I sat and listened to the Christmas story presented in our Christmas Eve service, I went to a Christmas concert in which one of the Jazz musicians took a break from his saxophone to wax poetically about the true meaning of Christmas (that is it being reflected in the belief of Mary and Joseph) and all of these experiences tied together lent themselves to once again reshaping my Christmas experience.

I saw the Christmas story through the lens of belief.
Simple? Yes.  But new.  New for me, anyways.  A new way of seeing it and a way that I needed to see it, because it convicted my heart so.

I recognize that this idea of belief is so essential to living a full life.

Belief is a part of a courageous and meaningful existence. 

A lack of belief equates itself with a life that is fear filled, full of doubt and more than likely some kind of self-hatred.

I can attest to this.

My lack of belief is shaped so much in being my own worst critic, in being doubtful and afraid.

Mary, a humble young woman was given an unbelievable promise that could only be fulfilled by Christ.  She did not let fear, doubt or self-criticism shape her response.  Instead she believed and her soul magnified the Lord: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.  For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed, for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name." (Luke 1:46-49) She pondered the promises in her heart.  Blessings came to her and those around her as well.  Eventually everyone who believed would believe because of her belief.

Belief can have a transforming impact on those around us.

Our belief can shape the belief in and of others. 

My belief is a response to trusting God at His Word, even when I can't understand how it will all work out.  This is my deepest prayer in 2017.  I pray that the Lord will help my unbelief.  Because it is there.  Constantly.  In all forms.  I trust that stepping out and believing God at His word will cause my life to take an entirely different shape, and I welcome that.

I know it will not be easy.  Because belief is easy to talk about, but it is much harder to do.

 I am believing in God.  I believe in His Son who was sent to earth, who lived and died for me to know Him and share Him with others. I believe that the Holy Spirit is my guide.  I believe in myself because of who God has made me, in His image.

  I am actively, moment by moment, choosing/praying to not let fear, doubt and self-criticism define me and my choices.

I am aiming higher because of belief.  I am not settling because I believe there is something greater as I follow closer after the Lord.  I want, like Mary, to be a humble servant of my God and know that He can tell, ask, allow whatever to befall me and know I will walk forward in unabashed belief.

Luke 1:45~"And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord."

To live in brazen and blatant belief in full view of the world around me is what I want.
It is what I need.
It is what I will honestly and openly pursue.

To believe, not out of naivety, but faith.  I want the Lord to find me at any moment, candidly, unhesitatingly willing to follow His call.  I want Him to know, no matter what is said or done around me, that I will believe and follow after Him.

I want Him to find me, without pretense, ready and willing, not crippled by self-doubt, but standing on my own two feet, saying "wherever You are, that is where I want to be."

him

 "and then the dreams break into a million tiny pieces.  the dream dies.  which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream." | nora ephron

he exists.

i believe with all of my heart he does.

i never wanted to be someone who just waits.  so i decided to live with purpose, to build a life of my own and to be okay with wherever the path of solitude lead me.

and so i've arrived on this day.  and my heart is hurting and longing and feeling unexpected feelings.  they are feelings i didn't know resided deep within my heart. 

it was a look, a touch, an asking that caused the bubbling up and then the overflow.

i could not stop it even if i wanted to.

i won't lie anymore. i won't say that i am okay when i am clearly not.  i am not okay.  one pinch, a slight tearing and i am a mess again.

and while that is my truth today, the bigger truth is that i will be okay.  and my worst "what if?" still equates to, in the end, being okay.

i will hold on hope.
i will find strength in pain.
i will be okay.

and that is a truth i can speak with a no matter what tacked on to it. 

His desire, His intent is for my good and i am trusting in that even when it hurts.

This New Life of Love//Never Forget

 

 (The Freedom Tower mid-construction circa summer 2011)

(Fallen beam in the shape of a cross-since moved to the WTC museum)

Every American who was ten years old or older and was cognizant of the events of 9/11 as they unfolded, more than likely has a clear and visceral memory engraved in their minds of exactly where they were, what they were doing, and who they were with when the attacks happened that day.  We hear this all the time: "I remember," and "Never forget".

But I DO remember and I will never forget.

September 11th is such an important day to me, but even more important is September 12th.  It is a day I remember and cherish since 2001.

I was a senior in high school when the events of 9/11 took place.  I remember the outfit that I wore that day.  It was pre-planned.  I was a stickler for preparation in high school.  Everything: lunch, backpack, sports bag, outfit was planned and packed the night before.  I had laid a black shirt with a sequenced New York skyline across the chest that held the twin towers in its midst on a wicker chair in my room.  I wore a red, black and white nylon skirt with it.  I did not know when I got dressed that morning what had already occurred.  My parents told me.  They had the news on as I was getting ready to leave for school.  I remember my mom saying something like, "The pilot must have had a heart attack."  Because well, at that point in time, events such as these must be accidents.  We never even considered the unthinkable answers that were minutes away from unfolding.

No, no...wait.  The second plane hit.  This was intentional.  It was deliberate.  We are under attack.

I went to school still.  And that day was strange.  We prayed together.  All of our teachers halted their lessons.  We just talked.  We brought in televisions and watched the news.  I was numb.  How was I supposed to feel?  What might happen next?

My friend was a mess that day because she had received a call from her father that he would be flying to New York to help out.  He was a firefighter.  She was so scared.  I had never seen anyone so scared.

But it stopped.

Thousands died.

T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d-s.

We, as Americans, we grieved.

But on 9/12 we got up.  School was cancelled that day.  We were urged to stay at home with our families.  So we did.  My friend came over.  I remember we watched Christmas movies to help her feel comforted, and really for me to feel comforted as well.

I looked to our President for guidance and hope, and you know what, he brought it.  If anyone speaks ill of George W. Bush and his presidency, I stand by the fact that no other President could have possibly led us the way he did when these attacks happened.

And soon, if not immediately, we were a nation united.  We stood together.  And my heart, which had never really known or understood patriotism, so suddenly did.  My heart swelled with national pride and a deep and grounded belief in a sovereign God.

Today we remember these events that took place 15 years ago.  As I pore through my instagram and twitter feeds I find comfort in those that lived and saw and grieved and still remember and appreciate and believe that we can be united.

When news channels are consistently covering Clinton and Trump and the great divide within our nation, it is refreshing to take pause and replay what happened 15 years ago in spite of the tragedy, utter beauty unfolded.

We stood united.  We believed in who we once were and who we could be again.

This morning at church we talked about the tragedies taking place all over our world today.  A simple mention of a word or phrase can evoke in our minds and hearts the sights and feelings of the horrific events taking place in our world today.  ISIS, Syria, mass shootings, race, war, violence, distrust, hate...it can get pretty overwhelming.  I, for one, know that I often like to run from where these stories and events pervade the most.  So I turn off the t.v., I don't look at the paper, I avoid the conversations, because it is all too painful.

But something about today draws my attention back.  And it isn't scary.  It is sacred.  It is a reminder of a sacred call on my life.  You see, this morning at church we were talking about prayer that moves mountains!  I look at the world, I think about 9/11 and I often wonder.  God, can it get better?  Will it?  I sometimes don't pray because I don't hope for it.  But today I am reminded that we serve a patient God.  We serve a God who is merciful and just.

We serve a God that wants us to pray!

Wow.  I serve and love a God who wants me to pray.  He wants to interact with me.  He doesn't call me to look at the world and analyze it according to my own expected outcomes.  Instead, I am called to "a new life of love" this Christian life, in which I am chosen by God and called to live differently from the rest of the world that does not love and serve Him.

Sometimes I get muddled up in the world.  I know I am a daughter of the King.  I know He loves me and hears my prayers and sent His Son to sacrifice His life for my sin.  I know I love Him.  But.

But.

Sometimes I get muddled up in the world and I forget.  I forget to align my heart to His.  I forget to begin each day knowing I am a daughter of the King.  I don't actively pray.  I don't wait with the expectation that the God of the Universe is going to move and do more than I can ask, think or imagine.  Instead, I wait rather impatiently and disgruntled and more often than not in confusion.

But that is not living in the new life of love.

And this is where I find myself today.  15 years since the attacks of 9/11.  15 years from a day I will never forget.  I won't ever forget.  I won't forget what happened on 9/12 and the days thereafter.  I won't forget that God brought light out of pitch black darkness. I won't forget that when everything seemed dismal and darkness seemed without end, He pierced through with the light of His love.

So, even today, 15 years later when much still seems broken and our nation feels so very fragmented, I believe the Lord can heal and restore and unite as he did 15 years ago.  His patience does not grow thin.

I pray, as I continue to press on, I will never forget, and walk the days that follow September 11, 2016 in this new life of love with a prayerful and believing heart.

to live in the light.

notice what is good. 

it is there, i promise.  

once i decidedly began to notice, to look for, see and acknowledge the good, my life changed.  

i smile back.

i say, "thank you" and i really try to show that i mean it, that those two words are not empty, but so very full of deep and heartfelt gratitude.

i tip well.

i show appreciation at any opportunity no matter how seemingly insignificant it may be.

i am patient when it is most difficult.

i do my best to overlook inconvenience and consider the situation fully before i deem it intolerable.

i try not to perpetuate the hate that can be done so benignly. we often unconsciously do so with our thoughts influenced by heavy doses of biased media and the careless words we often let slip out not fully considering their meaning and effect.

but a conscious awareness, an attentiveness to the deep promptings in our soul can alter the paths we take, the words we speak and the thoughts we think.

for every evil i may stand witness to, be the victim of, or become entrenched in, i intentionally vow to retaliate with a kindness of sorts, so as not to condone, but not to lower myself to a life that exists in darkness and negativity that is devoid of love and light.

it is not intended to be conceit; it is simply an attempt to live into the light.

A Prayer for America//Overcoming

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases. John Adams
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases. John Adams
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.html

Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_adams.htm

Girl America

Lyrics by Mat Kearney

(Best expresses the heart, prayer, and hope for our country)

I love the country that I live in.  I feel beyond blessed to be born here and to be raised in a nation that was founded on the ideals of freedom and independence.  To think upon where we've come from is a beautiful pondering.  To think of where we are today is heart-wrenching.  However, this does not negate my gratitude for this country and it does not deter my hope of what we are and what we can still become.  The intention of this post is not to detail all my grievances with the current state of our nation, but rather take a moment and pause and appreciate what this nation has been built from and reflect on the dreams and hearts of our nations founders and leaders. 

This summer I am reading several presidential biographies.  I wanted to grow my patriotism and delve into the lives and minds of our past leaders and see just what it was that led them to faith and hope for our country and caused them to chase down the dream of leading our nation, whether it be through times of initial development, times of peace, times of upheaval and war, times of economic crisis as well as times of unity and landmark decisions.

I find it so inspiring to read about the lives of these men and leaders of our country.  It reminds me of the privilege and duty it is to be an American.   It calls to mind the heart of living life in freedom and the responsibility that comes with it.  To me, being an American is a tale of overcoming.  It is overcoming odds and obstacles and darkness with light and hope and goodness.  It is really a beautiful tale to live in this country and to absorb its history.  We've come so far but I am certain we have a challenging journey ahead of us.

So, as we roll into the commemoration of the birth of America, I choose to celebrate the fact that this in heart is a beautiful country and the unity that comes from our history, from recent tragedies as well as a belief in the principles that began this country is something I really do treasure.  I pray that America would be a nation that would be a light in the world.  At least I pray that the people of this country would live out and share a voice and character of goodness and hope.  And though it may seem far reaching and dismal to hope for such a thing, I believe we are more than our President and government leaders.  We are 50 states of citizens who can overcome evil with good.  So I pray we would stand united and embrace who we were meant to be.  We can be more and do more and become more. AMERICA, I pray for you everyday, I believe in you, I dream for you, and I aim to live a life worthy of an American.

on teaching, expanding and ownership.

It is easy to forget why you do what you do.  Blame it on the mundane day to day, or the discouraging response of students, perhaps a lack of progress, and simply being overwhelmed by an endless set of tasks.  It blinds you to the purpose and reason for becoming a teacher.  It makes you forget your "white hot why".

I have been a teaching since the fall of 2010.  I took the 2011-2012 school year off because I never found the right teaching job.  Since the fall of 2012 I have been teaching high school English in some capacity. 

This fall I will be walking into my fifth full year as a teacher. 

I recently finished my first year teaching at a charter school, which initially began as a journey I thought I would never learn to love, but as the year wrapped up I found myself adjusting to the new and embracing my role as 11th grade English teacher.

From September to December 2015 I drove to school almost everyday fighting back tears each morning and praying for the gumption and grit to make it through each school day; it was a rough go to begin with.  I regretted leaving my previous teaching position and couldn't see how I would grow and become a better educator.  I hadn't made much headway with my students and was consistently overwhelmed with all that my role demanded of me.  The truth is, I like to work.  I enjoy it.  I don't mind the grading, I love the planning and developing the classroom environment as well as working to build a rapport with my students.  However, none of it comes easy.  The rapport is hard fought and must be intentionally cultivated.  The grading is doable if you keep up with it.  I think what was the most taxing with this new role was simply catching onto the culture and fast moving train of added duties that I was not familiar with.  It is an amazing school where I work, with fabulous educators in which I feel lucky to be selected to be a teacher alongside of, but it is a difficult adjustment regardless.  I had high, perfectionistic expectations of myself going into this role and the more I failed and let myself down, the more I felt I was letting my students and peers down.  I am notoriously hard on myself, and this role felt detrimental rather than expanding.

However, when June rolled around I found that I had not only grown to love what I do again because I was seeing the purpose and meaning in my role, but I had also grown in grit and resilience, in learning that failures lead to success and most importantly that perfection is never the end all-be all, rather progress is the gold that we get in the end.  We find as we reach each new end, we have changed.  We are different.  And I am different.  I am better, bolder, I cope differently, I am less afraid and more willing to take risks in the environment I am in.

So, as I press on and pursue growth in a similar role as teacher I am thinking and plotting how I will grow and expand not only as an educator but as a human being in the roles I play.  If we are not growing and expanding, then what the heck are we doing?  

For 2015-2016, growing and expanding took hold in venturing into this new role that was daily trial by fire.  Now that I am more into my groove, I decided that I need to grow and expand in new ways as I progress in this teaching role.  So over this past week, I spent in training with 25 other educators who want to transform their classroom/school culture as well as themselves.  It was thrilling to partner with people who love what they do and are passionate about doing it better.

So, together we examined what it takes to be effective educators.  We delved into simple but powerful classroom management strategies, character education, memory skills, developing moral beliefs and practicing engaging and effective lesson planning in both design and delivery.  We looked at the importance of learning in a variety of ways.  As the Benjamin Franklin quote at the top of this post notes, students learn best when they see, hear and can do.  These lessons and reminders made for a transforming week.  More than anything I feel changed as a person.  I am challenged to simply be a better person, thereby a better teacher.

One of the most powerful lessons from this week that I am using and applying to my personal life as well as my classroom is that of ownership.  Ownership is a key of excellence in the training model we went through, and ownership is something that my life and teaching lacks.  I am the kind of person, who in my own mind often does not find fault in what I do and how I choose to act.  While I am a perfectionist and see the imperfections in much of what I do and who I am, I still choose to point to other people and circumstances as to the why behind the imperfections.  It is my student's fault for not listening to my directions (blaming).  I didn't complete that task because I wasn't sure about the expectations (justifying).  I didn't know that's what was expected (denial).  I don't think I have what it takes, I am not enough (quitting).  These are the four go-to's of someone who does not live and practice ownership and they are very true of me.  I am quick to justify, blame, deny and/or quit.  I think because my inclination and preference is towards introverted expression these sorts of responses are not always vocalized, but I find them being the track running through my head about most things. 

Instead ownership calls us to live above the line.  Living above the line sounds like "I" statements.  I didn't give directions clearly.  I didn't complete the task on time.  I knew what was expected but I forgot and now know what needs to be done to complete the task efficiently.  I have what it takes and I am enough!

Living above the line looks like power, freedom and trust.  It is beautiful thing.  I know on the surface it probably sounds cheesy, but this was a life transforming idea for me.  I think too often we walk through our day to day life too busily unaware of what our self-talk is and what our given responses are to the circumstances we run into moment by moment.  It is easy to live unconsciously aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it, but if we want to grow and expand, it is no way to live.

Ownership allows us to choose.  When we choose, we change.  Life is the choices we make so I am choosing to take ownership over all that I do.  I will own my teaching and own my health.  I will own my growth spiritually, mentally, physically and emotionally.  I will take ownership in my relationships instead of making myself small.  There is so much to unfold from this life lesson. 

I want to see my students take hold of this life lesson.  I want to impart this knowledge to them not necessarily with my words but through the model of how I live inside and outside my classroom. 

So, here's to a summer of growth and a school year of expanding and ownership!

modern romance//blind dates//and the hope of a good man

“I see people my age…getting married to people they’ve known for like a year and a half. A year and a half? Is that enough time to get to know someone to know you want to spend the REST of your life with them? I’ve had sweaters for a year and a half and I was like ‘What the fuck was I doing with this sweater?" ~Aziz Ansari, Modern Romance

I just finished this delightful gem of a book #summerreadsbook2, and truly, I enjoyed the heck out of it.  I am dying to get my friends to read it, so we can discuss, of course all of my friends are married, and I bet they'll be thanking their lucky stars that they are by the time they finish. So perhaps instead I need to discuss this with a worldly single friend who maybe gets this whole 2016 dating scene a little better than I, but alas, I will take to my tiny little corner of the internet and share what I think about the scary truths presented in this tale.

First of all, yikes!  I don't think Aziz set out to scare his single readers, but man oh man, dating now, feels like the most undesirable thing ever. For starters, I guess I should remind myself and my few and far between readers that I reside in a comfortable station of singleness.  It is very much a chosen singleness, mostly because I am not the biggest fan of dating and am not too apt at traversing the mysterious lands of 21st century dating.  Instead, I wait and I "do me" as my students would say, and hope that someday a good man and I will cross each other's paths and think each to ourselves, my gosh, where the heck has this person been all my life?  Wouldn't that be romantic?  I envision us meeting across stacks of potatoes, or in front of red meat at the grocery store, or perhaps while perusing books at barnes and noble, or maybe at dog beach while our pups play about, or one Sunday he will take the seat next to me at church and we'll just know. Or I suppose I can be taken by surprise some other way, but since that about sums up my life, I don't really see how else it will happen unless I start doing the things Ansari notes are the ways of meeting and dating nowadays.  

This book did not inspire me to take up tinder, or match, or instagram stalk a potential date.  Instead it led me to believe that might be the most unlikely and dismal way to find a potential mate.  So I accept my singleness as I am, as it is.  And really, I am okay.  Sure a girl in her early thirties ought to probably be a little more proactive considering my baby making years are lessening each passing day, but here I am feeling as unrushed as ever to find my man.  I suppose I can chalk that up to hope.

To be honest, when I closed the cover of Modern Romance, I cried.  I cried for awhile actually.  This wasn't just stream of tears crying, but rather heaving sobs.  What unleashed from within was this knot of deep seated fears and the unruly emotions that have been wound tightly to them.  

I let go and gave in hoping to find their root. I came back to a similar statement I've lamented in a recent post and that is this: I am not the most important person to any human being on this planet that is living.  

This fear is very real.  I took comfort recently when I watched The Intern starring Anne Hathaway and Robert Deniro.  The following scene is beautiful, albiet not the best version, but you get the jist:  



I love how vulnerable she is in this scene.  It is indeed a scary sidebar, but she puts a voice to a real and weighty fear, no matter how ridiculous it might feel to say it aloud.  We all fear aloneness.  We do.  I imagine there are a lot of married and loved people out there who feel what I feel.  

What I came to realize is that the fulfillment that I am seeking, the love I think I need, the idea of being so important to somebody, will never be found in a person I strike up a conversation with in the grocery store, or the man I meet on match.com.  I can see myself ten years down the road with a ring on my finger and two kids to boot, and that nagging fear being stirred up again, because my husband's job is more important and my kids treat me like shit, and I'll find myself seeking out the dog for that unconditional affection (which is pretty stellar by the way).

The point is, when I came out of the emotional tailspin my reaction to Modern Romance sent me spinning down, I realized this is not where God intended me to reside.  My life, romantic life or not, will not be dictated by the rules of dating in 2016.  My personal history with men and friends does not write my future story.  

Rejection and bad dates do not define my person.  When I got to this truth I realized that was another piece of the emotional puzzle that had been plaguing me.  I recently went on a blind date with a man a co-worker of mine set me up with.   The timing of it all seemed perfect.  I had a deep respect for my co-worker, therefore felt that his friends and his judge of character to be of quality.  So I agreed.  My blind date did not want to meet in person right away. Instead he wanted to get to know one another via email, then phone conversation, with a bit of texting thrown in.  All seemed well.  I felt like I was getting to know a good man.  More than that, I felt hope.  That hope that somewhere in my heart spoke that this was the good man I had been waiting for.  And then, a few weeks in, we met.  After that, silence.  To be fair, the silence was on both our ends.  He never reached out again, and I did not have the desire to either.  Regardless, that slightly stinging rejection weighs in and thinks, how dare he not like me!  In reality what existed on paper between us, and what had been cultivated on the phone fizzled out in person to person meeting.  Something told me that this guy, well, he actually wasn't it.  

After that, I kind of gave up on the idea of the mysterious him that may or may not exist.  Barring set ups though I really began to wonder how the heck we would ever find each other.  But one thing I can most assuredly say, as of today, beyond a shadow of doubt, I am contentedly single.  I don't want to settle for the boring blind date.  I don't want to put myself out there in the way that modern romance dictates.  Tinder and match seem to say, "Hey, I am ready to throw down."  Which, dear sir, I am not.  

My best date happened in December of 2013.  Yikes, almost three years ago!  I met a man in the grocery store parking lot who saw me struggling with my many grocery bags.  As the baguette and wine bottle started to slip, he stepped into save the day, literally.  He carried them to my car and what followed was, well the best damn thing a woman could hear.  He asked me to dinner and I said yes.  He was bold and I liked that.  He thought I was beautiful, and well, it's nice to hear, because so many guys seem to want to keep that idea to themselves if it is what they are thinking.  

A few nights later we ate dinner together at a quaint Mexican joint and I was on cloud nine.  And then, he suggested we take things to his place, and when I made it clear where I stood on how the rest of the night would go, his face fell.  We agreed their was physical attraction brewing and we agreed that we had fun, that we laughed, that we enjoyed ourselves, but this is where it would end.  Too different we were.  And yet, it still stands as a great date, and well, he is still a good guy in my book, just was not the guy for me.  

So, here is where I proceed. Modern romance and I, well we don't mix too well.  And maybe blind dates aren't my thing, but I won't say no to the next offer.  And the hope of a good man, I'll hold onto that, probably until my dying day.  And in the meantime,  I'll fight for the contentment that I can so wondrously have in my season of singleness.