God just spoke to me. From a dry erase board.
I know, right?
Here's the deal. I have 340 students that come to my classroom every week. All of them think that writing on the dry erase board is fun. All of them want to write me little love notes.
"Mrs. K is awesome!" "I luv U, Mrs. K!" "Music Rocks!" "I Wuz Here"
Okay, so maybe that last one is me. But I digress.
It's so aggravating because I don't have the nice kind of white board. Mine is made out of 4'x8' sheets of showerboard. It does NOT erase cleanly. Everyday, I tell kids not to write on my board as they walk by. Everyday, I have to use my fingernail, spit, and a paper towel to get what the eraser won't pick up.
I want to tell them:
"Hey, kids. If you want to honor me, if you want to show me respect and admiration, don't do it in the big, easy display of the white board. Do it by obeying me. Do it by participating in the plans I have made for you."
I spent the last hour making one girl's life miserable because she would not turn toward me. She would not watch the video on Johann Strauss and the Blue Danube. When we got out musical instruments to play a little impromptu performance of the Blue Danube, she wouldn't watch me and play in time. She spent it turned around making mean faces at the boy behind her.
After I led them back to class, I walked into the room to find "I *heart* Mrs. K - Luv CiCi" in purple and gold marker on the board. Really? You love me? Then why don't you do what I say.
- - -eerrrrrrkkkk- - -
Where have I heard that before?
O, yeah.
"You are my friends if you do what I command you." John 15:14
I used to wonder how that verse fit in with the whole unconditional love of Jesus. Didn't that sound a little bit like Jesus would only be our friend if we obeyed him?
Actually - considering today's illumination - it sounds more like Jesus is saying, "When you do what I command, that is the proof you are really one of mine." Yeah. I've heard that in other places before. Like the whole book of 1 John. And like James 2.
When that student comes into the classroom, gives me her attention, participates in the lesson, and walks out with a greater understanding and appreciation of the subject, I know I am loved. If she then swings by the board and leaves me a little note, it means something. It is a gift - not a trite attempt at appeasement.
**tap, tap** Is this thing on?!
Lord, forgive me for lip service. Forgive me for saying I have faith, but letting the follow-thru slide. Forgive me for making big shows of affection, but not obeying you in the smallest acts of daily obedience and self-denial.
And thank you for CiCi.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
I Won!
I like to play around over at "The One Minute Writer". Each day, a new writing prompt. I really like it when I get a bad case of writer's block.
This past week, Friday's prompt was to write a short fictional entry about fire. Mine won the daily writer award. Sweet!
I told my husband about it. He said, "What do you get for winning?"
Satisfaction.
This past week, Friday's prompt was to write a short fictional entry about fire. Mine won the daily writer award. Sweet!
I told my husband about it. He said, "What do you get for winning?"
Satisfaction.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Give that photo a name!
I love perusing the "Blog of the Day", an award that keeps eluding me. One thing I have come to realize: I am not nearly as artistic or creative or witty as I think I am.
I can't remember the name of it, but there's this blog where the owner compiles little still-lifes and vignettes of flowers and postcards and old books and buttons and fabric that all have the same color running through them. Since a large part of my life is taken up looking at paint chips, I am drawn to her use of color. But I always come away a little bit disappointed in myself that I don't see the world through the same set of eyes, because her world is beautiful and monochromatic. Each day, a different color, but each day wondrously coordinated.
My husband cannot understand why I have run through two tanks of gas and two perfectly good weekends looking for a robin's egg blue coverlet set. I can find plenty of them. I just want one that doesn't cost over $50, because I am CHEAP! I looked on ebay. I looked through the clearance section on Pottery Barn's website. I found baby bedding that way. It's four years old now, but I still love it.
Life is busy, but I find if I can carve out a niche of time and surround myself with beauty, it slows down... even pauses for a moment.
*Breathe*
With that in mind, I would like to share the following photo. Let's call it my jpeg of the month, since doing this weekly hasn't been much of a success. This is one of the senior portraits I took of my neice. It's one of my favorites. The other is very straightforward. But this one always makes me wonder what she's looking at. Sign in and comment. Let's see what kinds of things you think she's looking at or thinking of in this important year of her life.
Monday, April 20, 2009
What I've Been Doing Lately...
Exhausted! That's how I'm feeling right now. And in about 40 minutes, I have to hike 25 fifth graders up a hill to meet the sixth grade band director. I have one thing to say about that:
I wore the wrong shoes!
I'd rather be in stretchy pajama pants and a cami, sprawled out on the bed, looking though paint and fabric swatches. I already know what colors we're doing, but I want to get just the right color of taragon green for the kitchen, antique map blue for the bathrooms, toasted almond for the bedrooms, and mocha latte for the great room. Know what I mean?
This weekend consisted of a big clean-up project at our church's multipurpose building - which set my allergies on FIRE! On top of the dust and other questionable matter floating in the air, something bit me on the side of the nose, and my eye swole up like a marshmallow in the microwave. I turned a bottle of benadryl up on its end and took a swig from it like I was doing a gatorade commercial. I don't remember much after that.
Saturday, I worked a streetcorner. - Well, I held a sign for the garage sale fundraiser for our Honduras team. That turned out well. I had a couple of hours after that to edit the senior portraits I took for my neice. *Sigh!* They grow up so fast. Then it was back to the church to wrap baked potatoes and move tables.
Sunday was the baked potato lunch. I sang in church and Joe preached. Well, actually, I sang half of a song in church while facing a six foot cross. I spent the other half risking electrocution while crying all over my microphone. "His life for mine" ended up sounding more like "Hit tie firm eye." Sunday afternoon was spent picking out music for band practice, leading music for AWANA, going to choir practice, then going to band practice, then scrapping half of the music I picked out for the band, then dropping a couple of youth at their homes, and finally colapsing into bed at 10:15pm.
I was worn slap out!
----
Well, I just got back from the band hall. That was fun. The big-n-bad fifth graders who think they rule the world on our side of the hill always come back a little smaller after meeting the high school band. The boys who strut around here with ILS (you know, imaginary lats syndrome) tuck tail when the high school girls in the color guard look at them and say "O how cute! Look at how little they are! Aren't you ____'s little brother?"
Sweet.
It's the little victories in life.
Like Benadryl-induced comas.
Like a clean HUT.
Like $1500 for Honduras.
Like $700 for the youth mission trip.
Like a beautiful young lady where there used to be a two year old with a Girl Scout Thin-Mint smeared from mouth, to ears, to hair.
Like children growing into a personal relationship with Christ.
Like people finding their place in serving the body of Christ.
Like knowing it's all going to start over again next weekend.
----
I need a nap!
I wore the wrong shoes!
I'd rather be in stretchy pajama pants and a cami, sprawled out on the bed, looking though paint and fabric swatches. I already know what colors we're doing, but I want to get just the right color of taragon green for the kitchen, antique map blue for the bathrooms, toasted almond for the bedrooms, and mocha latte for the great room. Know what I mean?
This weekend consisted of a big clean-up project at our church's multipurpose building - which set my allergies on FIRE! On top of the dust and other questionable matter floating in the air, something bit me on the side of the nose, and my eye swole up like a marshmallow in the microwave. I turned a bottle of benadryl up on its end and took a swig from it like I was doing a gatorade commercial. I don't remember much after that.
Saturday, I worked a streetcorner. - Well, I held a sign for the garage sale fundraiser for our Honduras team. That turned out well. I had a couple of hours after that to edit the senior portraits I took for my neice. *Sigh!* They grow up so fast. Then it was back to the church to wrap baked potatoes and move tables.
Sunday was the baked potato lunch. I sang in church and Joe preached. Well, actually, I sang half of a song in church while facing a six foot cross. I spent the other half risking electrocution while crying all over my microphone. "His life for mine" ended up sounding more like "Hit tie firm eye." Sunday afternoon was spent picking out music for band practice, leading music for AWANA, going to choir practice, then going to band practice, then scrapping half of the music I picked out for the band, then dropping a couple of youth at their homes, and finally colapsing into bed at 10:15pm.
I was worn slap out!
----
Well, I just got back from the band hall. That was fun. The big-n-bad fifth graders who think they rule the world on our side of the hill always come back a little smaller after meeting the high school band. The boys who strut around here with ILS (you know, imaginary lats syndrome) tuck tail when the high school girls in the color guard look at them and say "O how cute! Look at how little they are! Aren't you ____'s little brother?"
Sweet.
It's the little victories in life.
Like Benadryl-induced comas.
Like a clean HUT.
Like $1500 for Honduras.
Like $700 for the youth mission trip.
Like a beautiful young lady where there used to be a two year old with a Girl Scout Thin-Mint smeared from mouth, to ears, to hair.
Like children growing into a personal relationship with Christ.
Like people finding their place in serving the body of Christ.
Like knowing it's all going to start over again next weekend.
----
I need a nap!
Monday, April 13, 2009
Technical issues....
If you follow my blogging and would like to be emailed an update with each post, message me on facebook with your email address and I will add you to the list.
If you don't have a facebook account, you can give me your email address in a comment. I have opened them up to anyone, not just blog members, for a limited time to allow access. But, your comment will show on my page. I am not responsible for any weirdos that get your address off of my page and begin stalking you.
Lastly, just because we'll be needing to raise some extra funds toward our adoption, I am going to start allowing Google ads to appear on the sidebars to see what kind of funds that might generate. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE for their content, and I DO NOT ENDORSE specifically any product offered. If I get a whif that it is going to be objectional more often than not, I will cancel that service. Just letting you know.
If you don't have a facebook account, you can give me your email address in a comment. I have opened them up to anyone, not just blog members, for a limited time to allow access. But, your comment will show on my page. I am not responsible for any weirdos that get your address off of my page and begin stalking you.
Lastly, just because we'll be needing to raise some extra funds toward our adoption, I am going to start allowing Google ads to appear on the sidebars to see what kind of funds that might generate. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE for their content, and I DO NOT ENDORSE specifically any product offered. If I get a whif that it is going to be objectional more often than not, I will cancel that service. Just letting you know.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Meanwhile, back at the farm....
That's what we used to call the 4 acres that my mom and dad bought about 25 years ago. "The Farm". We never had any livestock, just a garden - which has shrunk in size every year since the first. This year, we might plant a few tomato plants in pots, and one row of squash or something, if that much.
The ol' farm doesn't look like it used to. There was a little white house with black shutters and asbestos siding that was moved off before mom and dad built the home they're in now. There was a little shed behind it that was notorious for hiding king snakes. Ick! I know they're not poisonous - but does it really matter? The back end of the house was about to fall off. Somehow, it got remodeled - not once, but twice. I don't see how there was anything of structural integrity there to renovate. Remediate is more like it. The old house became a temporary home to my dad's younger brother and his family, then to a young family in our church, then to my brother and his family while his home was being built just down the road. My neice was born while they were living there. It was an old house, full of memories - and God knows what else.
There were about five more pecan trees on the property than we currently have. Thank lightning and hurricane Katrina for that. In fact, one of the few remaining trees got struck two weeks ago. We haven't had internet at home since. We're not sure if this tree is going to die or not. It doesn't look like the crack from the lightning goes that deep, but you never can tell. I hope it survives. Not because I like picking pecans that much, but because it's sad to see the landscape change. Treeless land looks kind of barren to me. But the landscape is going to change, regardless of how I feel about it.
This year, where the garden used to be, we're going to have a house going up. Yesterday, papers were signed to release one acre to me and Joe, and one to my oldest brother. Mom and dad are keeping the rest, along with their home, until they can't live in it and take care of themselves any longer. While I am excited about the house, it is just a tool - a means to an end.
When we surrendered - for the second and final time - to pursuing international adoption, my next prayer was: "Okay, God. We need a home." At first, it felt like those doors weren't going to open. Thanks to President "Hopie McChange", we had trouble finding a lender who didn't want a ridiculously large down payment. But then, ironically, we found the solution in a government program for "rural development" through the USDA. Great rate, 100% financing, and stringent standards on building codes and warranties that guarantee the quality of the work. And we will be in the house in time for the new home owner tax credit - which will be paying for a good part of our adoption fees.
Isn't God awesome? The plan is to start our application as soon as the ground breaks, and finalize our homestudy when we move in - September, we've been told. Dossier sent off by November, give or take. Referal 3-6 months later (April-ish). Travel to Nepal (May-ish). This is all dependent on things going according to the schedule, as spelled out by New Beginnings Adoption Agency.
Now all we need to decide is if we want to adopt one child now, and one a few years later, or if we want to do two now. The Nepal government will allow two at one time - one male, one female. It would be like having twins. Other than healthy and infant, we don't care which we bring home. It's kind of exciting, like having a real baby, to wait for that call and find out what you are getting.
Thanks for praying us through the fertility trials. Keep us in mind as we approach this new road, with great anticipation and expectations!
Joanna
The ol' farm doesn't look like it used to. There was a little white house with black shutters and asbestos siding that was moved off before mom and dad built the home they're in now. There was a little shed behind it that was notorious for hiding king snakes. Ick! I know they're not poisonous - but does it really matter? The back end of the house was about to fall off. Somehow, it got remodeled - not once, but twice. I don't see how there was anything of structural integrity there to renovate. Remediate is more like it. The old house became a temporary home to my dad's younger brother and his family, then to a young family in our church, then to my brother and his family while his home was being built just down the road. My neice was born while they were living there. It was an old house, full of memories - and God knows what else.
There were about five more pecan trees on the property than we currently have. Thank lightning and hurricane Katrina for that. In fact, one of the few remaining trees got struck two weeks ago. We haven't had internet at home since. We're not sure if this tree is going to die or not. It doesn't look like the crack from the lightning goes that deep, but you never can tell. I hope it survives. Not because I like picking pecans that much, but because it's sad to see the landscape change. Treeless land looks kind of barren to me. But the landscape is going to change, regardless of how I feel about it.
This year, where the garden used to be, we're going to have a house going up. Yesterday, papers were signed to release one acre to me and Joe, and one to my oldest brother. Mom and dad are keeping the rest, along with their home, until they can't live in it and take care of themselves any longer. While I am excited about the house, it is just a tool - a means to an end.
When we surrendered - for the second and final time - to pursuing international adoption, my next prayer was: "Okay, God. We need a home." At first, it felt like those doors weren't going to open. Thanks to President "Hopie McChange", we had trouble finding a lender who didn't want a ridiculously large down payment. But then, ironically, we found the solution in a government program for "rural development" through the USDA. Great rate, 100% financing, and stringent standards on building codes and warranties that guarantee the quality of the work. And we will be in the house in time for the new home owner tax credit - which will be paying for a good part of our adoption fees.
Isn't God awesome? The plan is to start our application as soon as the ground breaks, and finalize our homestudy when we move in - September, we've been told. Dossier sent off by November, give or take. Referal 3-6 months later (April-ish). Travel to Nepal (May-ish). This is all dependent on things going according to the schedule, as spelled out by New Beginnings Adoption Agency.
Now all we need to decide is if we want to adopt one child now, and one a few years later, or if we want to do two now. The Nepal government will allow two at one time - one male, one female. It would be like having twins. Other than healthy and infant, we don't care which we bring home. It's kind of exciting, like having a real baby, to wait for that call and find out what you are getting.
Thanks for praying us through the fertility trials. Keep us in mind as we approach this new road, with great anticipation and expectations!
Joanna
Friday, April 3, 2009
What I'm Not...
I'm not skinny. Probably never will be. And I'm okay with that. I have nice skin and nice hair, and decent legs. I feel pretty good about myself most of the time - as long as I remember that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
I'm not an athlete. I have a lot of spirit. I'd make a great coach or cheerleader. But I'm not observant or coordinated enough to make successful plays. Unless I'm playing frisbee. Then, watch out!
I'm not spiritually gifted so much in areas like mercy. I am kind, but I don't possess the kind of perception and sensitivity it takes to pick up on the unspoken. I think this is due to the next point:
I'm not a mind-reader. When I hurt, I want to do so privately. I pull away and either pray or sleep. Half of the time, my hurts have to do with being either physically or emotionally or spiritually exhausted. I find that a little bit of both prayer and sleep help a lot! That being said, since I am a withdraw-er who doesn't want people coming after me in my difficult times, I don't always know to come after someone else who DOES need me.
If I've hurt your feelings, tell me.
If you need a friend, tell me.
If you need me to leave you alone, tell me.
But don't assume I'll pick up on it on my own.
Yesterday, in the memorial post, I included the phrase, "as much as we were allowed in". I did so because in youth ministry, kids build up walls. Or their parents do so for them. When prompted by the spirit, we'll try to break those down. But when they keep going up, over and over again, it's hard to keep pushing in. You feel defeated before you start. It begins to feel like a game, a game you have no chance of winning.
It's easier to wait until the ones holding up the wall get tired and let their guard down. But it's sometimes difficult because God steps in and tears the wall down Himself, sovereignly allowing the bricks that held it fall and cause damage that we don't understand.
To all our youth, present and past, who read this post from the site or from Facebook:
TELL US what's going on. TELL US when you are hurting. TELL US when you are ticked off because of something we have or have not done. TELL US how to pray for you. But DON'T let the wall come crashing down on top of you. DON'T let your spiritual life be dictated by how great or crappy a job we do as your youth ministers. What is going on between you and God is between YOU and GOD. We are only tools, and if you don't pick up the tool and put it to use, what good are WE? I don't want to ever go through what we went through this week. So -
Be Vocal about your needs!
Be Mature in your own faith!
Be Safe!
I'm not an athlete. I have a lot of spirit. I'd make a great coach or cheerleader. But I'm not observant or coordinated enough to make successful plays. Unless I'm playing frisbee. Then, watch out!
I'm not spiritually gifted so much in areas like mercy. I am kind, but I don't possess the kind of perception and sensitivity it takes to pick up on the unspoken. I think this is due to the next point:
I'm not a mind-reader. When I hurt, I want to do so privately. I pull away and either pray or sleep. Half of the time, my hurts have to do with being either physically or emotionally or spiritually exhausted. I find that a little bit of both prayer and sleep help a lot! That being said, since I am a withdraw-er who doesn't want people coming after me in my difficult times, I don't always know to come after someone else who DOES need me.
If I've hurt your feelings, tell me.
If you need a friend, tell me.
If you need me to leave you alone, tell me.
But don't assume I'll pick up on it on my own.
Yesterday, in the memorial post, I included the phrase, "as much as we were allowed in". I did so because in youth ministry, kids build up walls. Or their parents do so for them. When prompted by the spirit, we'll try to break those down. But when they keep going up, over and over again, it's hard to keep pushing in. You feel defeated before you start. It begins to feel like a game, a game you have no chance of winning.
It's easier to wait until the ones holding up the wall get tired and let their guard down. But it's sometimes difficult because God steps in and tears the wall down Himself, sovereignly allowing the bricks that held it fall and cause damage that we don't understand.
To all our youth, present and past, who read this post from the site or from Facebook:
TELL US what's going on. TELL US when you are hurting. TELL US when you are ticked off because of something we have or have not done. TELL US how to pray for you. But DON'T let the wall come crashing down on top of you. DON'T let your spiritual life be dictated by how great or crappy a job we do as your youth ministers. What is going on between you and God is between YOU and GOD. We are only tools, and if you don't pick up the tool and put it to use, what good are WE? I don't want to ever go through what we went through this week. So -
Be Vocal about your needs!
Be Mature in your own faith!
Be Safe!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Overwhelmed
We lost a beautiful young woman this week. Talented, expressive, outgoing. Gone. In a moment, for whatever reason, she lost hope. As much as we had been allowed inside, we tried. When the door was shut, we prayed. When the light was gone, we cried.
For her family, I wish you peace. The kind you think you will never know again. The kind that reminds you of a benevolent God who is the only hope in a violent world. The kind that allows you to remember without falling apart, because you can't forget a girl like that. The kind that frees you.
For her friends, I wish you strength. The kind that makes you resolved to face your demons in Christ's power. The kind that makes you bold to be who God created you to be, regardless of pressures put on you by this world. The kind that lets you know in your heart where your hope and security lie. The kind that lifts you.
For those who had to watch from a distance, like the disciples, not sure of how it all happened, or what it all meant, or if there was anything you could have done to stop it, I wish you Jesus.
God is in control.
For her family, I wish you peace. The kind you think you will never know again. The kind that reminds you of a benevolent God who is the only hope in a violent world. The kind that allows you to remember without falling apart, because you can't forget a girl like that. The kind that frees you.
For her friends, I wish you strength. The kind that makes you resolved to face your demons in Christ's power. The kind that makes you bold to be who God created you to be, regardless of pressures put on you by this world. The kind that lets you know in your heart where your hope and security lie. The kind that lifts you.
For those who had to watch from a distance, like the disciples, not sure of how it all happened, or what it all meant, or if there was anything you could have done to stop it, I wish you Jesus.
God is in control.
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