I think I just ran into reality...

I think I'm slowly allowing myself to wake up to the reality of my present state.  No, it's not a present state of insanity.  But more so, again, transition.  I hate that word.  I hate transitions in writing, in speaking, in music, and especially in life.  Rarely do you come across a transition that isn't noticeable.  Enter crescendo.  I've been able to ignore this lovely inevitable happening because my life was swarming with activities.  With people constantly.  My roommate and I were able to fall into a routine of getting home, working out, fixing dinner together, and then reading/talking until we went to bed.  This was incredible for the community we have been intending to create.  However, my personal internal processor didn't have time or a need to process. I was able to voice the reality but not have to feel it or accept it.  


But guess what?


My roommate has now left me for 5 weeks to go to Greece, South Africa, and Cameroon.  Pure torture that I have to sit with myself now.  It's been 4 days and I have literally run into reality.  And it hurt.


I was being interviewed this week for a new position as a tutor in the Omaha area.  I was asked a series of questions and there were two that really stuck out to me:  What has been the biggest obstacle in your teaching career and how did you overcome it?  What has been your most beneficial moment as a teacher? (I'll come back to this in a bit...)


My students also have come around as a part of our mini school newspaper section in their PhotoJournalism class.  They always interview teachers, so I was used to this process...but I didn't realize how piercing their questions would be to me: Why did you want to become a teacher?  Have you always wanted to become a teacher?  When do you want to retire?  What do you love most about teaching?  If you weren't teaching, what else would you be doing?


Obviously, my students don't quite know that I won't be coming back next year.  Surprisingly, during one of their interviews, my eyes welled up with tears.  Although I felt broken about the joy I had in being a teacher, there was such affirmation in what I had joy in and how it could carry over to my future career.      


Ok.  Going back to my first interview with the questions about my obstacles and joys as a teacher.  I'm going to be compiling a top ten list [let's be honest, it will most likely be a top twenty because I'm a wordy person that is indecisive:)].  Stay tuned.  There will be a mixture of laughter and tears and joys and heartaches and successes and failures all in one little list.    


Update on my next few month's plans....

Starting tomorrow and going through the summer and into the next school year, I will be tutoring.  I just got hired as an independent contracted tutor through a company here in Omaha.  Hopefully, I'll be getting about 10 hours a week in tutoring.  Along with subbing, I'm hoping this will help me through grad school.  

My last day of teaching is May 18th.  Be prepared for a flooding of the Missouri River with my tears.


June.  My roommate, Jocelyn, and I will be moving in with her parent's at their house on the lake for the summer.  Rough life, I know.  We will be living in their basement that walks out to the lake.  My summer resort.


August.  Potentially going to New Zealand with Jocelyn and two other friends to celebrate Jocelyn being done with residency.
           -Also, grad school will begin late August.  Classes will just be in the evenings.
           -AND...my brother and sister-in-law are expecting a baby early August!! :)
           - AND I have two family weddings.  Holy month of celebration! 

Transitions:

  These keys are too unfamiliar to me that it nearly breaks my heart.  There has been such an incredible separation between the words that once easily flowed through in writing.  It’s intimidating to me.  My mind plays tricks on me by convincing me that these keys will pierce me if I write of issues of the heart.  I’m almost afraid to begin again, not knowing what may come out that’s been in hiding for the past months. 

Let me clarify. 

In December, I found out that I was accepted to Denver Seminary for their Clinical Counseling program.  Exciting, right?  My response—tears.  I was scared.  I knew this is what I wanted, but I saw the loss of everything instead of the gain of the opportunity.  As I prepared myself for not only quitting my job but also packing up and moving even further from my family, I found another opportunity at a school in Omaha that offered the same program.  To me, this option was a bit of a relief.  However, I was so torn.  Torn between the adventure, newness, and beauty Colorado would offer.  I would be right next door to one of my closest friends and I would be able to have new beginnings.  At the same time, the opposing side was the distance from family, from familiarity, and from the community I had invested in so deeply here.  On a technical level, Denver also wouldn’t accept the 15 credits I had already completed and the program was more expensive.  The school in Omaha (Grace) was a door that I would soon knock on and prepare myself for it to either swing open or remain locked shut.  I set up a meeting with Grace and approached it in a very pessimistic way.  With my questions and demands written down, I dared them to prove they were a school that would have the things that I wanted and hoped to pursue my dreams.  Before I could even ask a question, every single one was answered.  They waived the fees, the GRE, accepted all my credits, and would allow me to go out of state (and out of the country) for my internships if desired.  There was an incredible peace that came with this conversation.  I toured the quaint campus and allowed myself to set in to the reality of the next year.  There was a greater peace with this than the news of Denver.  I assumed my worries, anxiety, and sadness were now dismissed and my answer was obvious.  And although most of those things were true, Monday morning brought about the true issue I needed (and am still needing) to work through.   

When the weekend was done and I had rejoiced in this open door and settled with the reality of going to Grace in the fall, I drove and sang all the way to work.  I hadn’t done this in a month because of my reeling mind.  It wasn’t until I unlocked the door in the hallway to get down to my room and looked to see my door with “Miss Mahr” posted on it…did I realize that my heart was sad for more than just leaving Omaha.  My heart was weighted down by the loss of being a teacher.  In that moment of seeing my name posted and surrounded by the middle school decorations for the season and the poorly written notes stuck in cockeyed fashion, I felt the loss of what I had let become my identity for the last 3 years…6 in reality when looking back on college as well.  My answer to “So what do you do?”  is about to drastically change.  I have spent years of my life having conversations about my profession as a teacher.  I have built a community in that school.  I feel known…by others and myself... in this role in a very true and deep way.  If I take “teacher” out of who I am, do I change?  Middle-schoolers have become my way of life…teaching my oxygen for 4 years.  I froze in my chair as I looked at my walls scattered with student work and poems and my “The Best Teachers have the Warmest Hearts” Scensy that was placed on my desk.  Where will those parts of me go?  Will people still be nervous to write to me because I’m an English teacher?  Will conversation still come as easy when I don’t have the crutch of teaching middle school?  How will I stand to simply say “I’m a student” instead “I’m a teacher.”  I feel almost selfish in this.  My purpose of serving and helping others is being removed from my life.  I am consistently at the demand of 97 students each day, and I’m about to purely focus on my studies.  For me.  I struggle to not feel selfish in this decision.  I understand that the purpose in this is far greater than just becoming a student.  I’m doing this to gain the education and knowledge to further help those in need.  However, the process of getting there scares me.  This idea of change is what has paralyzed my hands more than anything.  I can complain of being busy, my fingers freezing in the sub-zero temperatures, or of the unspeakable amounts of grading…but truly I know the lack of writing comes from the fear of my up and coming identity crisis.  

So yesterday, I decided to take charge on that fear.  To face it, one step at a time.  As my day began, I was sick of carrying around this decision as a weight instead of rejoicing in the opportunity.  My first step to release that weight was to tell my school that I would not be returning in the fall.  At our in-service day yesterday, I decided in the morning that I would tell my principal and assistant principal over my lunch hour.  I had spent the previous weeks playing the conversations out in my head, so I knew what I wanted to say and exactly how I would say it.  However, for those who know me…what I plan and what actually happens never truly mirror each other.  With sweaty and shaky hands, I knocked on my principal’s door and was welcomed in.  Oldies music played in the background.  Good song, I thought to myself.  Seemed appropriate that I would have an audible soundtrack for such occasion.  I politely and gracefully took my seat across the desk from my principal.  I’m sure from bird’s eye view I looked like a scared student getting in trouble in the principal’s office.  I opened my mouth to begin my beautifully planned out speech…except what came out was nothing that I had planned.  I basically shouted “I’m not coming back next year.”  And then instinctively wanted to catch the words and shove them back into my mouth and start all over.  But it was too late.  My principal’s eyes had already widened, his hands stripped his glasses from his face, and his jaw was left to drag on the floor.  Ok. So maybe it wasn’t that bad, but to me it was the most untactful way of approaching such a delicate subject.  Especially coming from an English teacher who should be more eloquent with her words.  I went on to explain my process of reaching this decision.  To my surprise, he didn’t ask me to just quit right then…nor did he have a look of relief on his face as if I was doing him a favor.  His words were the encouragement and support that I needed as he affirmed me in the work I had done and the faith he had in the way in which I was heading.  Those first steps led to a conversation with my assistant principal and on down the line.  I feel as though I gave my middle school a minor heart attack because of the shock they all had, yet each conversation ended with support and encouragement from a community that had very much become my family and embedded themselves in my heart.  I realized even more with each conversation that the last three years have given me confidence, challenges, reassurance, stability, and a burdened heart in what I am about to pursue.  And for that, I am so very thankful. 

As I sit in this transition…this identity crisis…I’m going to try and choose to be present.  To find my way around this phase of discomfort and transition in order to be fully open to the growth that can happen in such moments.

Ketchup

Ketchup.  I just taught homophones and homonyms so I thought this was appropriate.  I'm completely and utterly embarrassed that my last post was from July 15th.  To release myself from stress and being overwhelmed in needing to fill you in on the tiniest of details of my life, I'm going to  use this post to catch everyone up to speed in short (please keep in mind that I'm naturally wordy...) blurbs.  Also, notice the difference in blog.  This was done by my lovely sister as I explained my embarrassment as my other design has magically disappeared and left my blog slighted.   

Grad School:

   I began grad school earlier this summer, if you can remember waaaaaaaay back to when you last read.  I'm taking classes locally and have truly enjoyed every moment.  Let me rephrase that.  I have truly enjoyed learning, the knowledge gained, and the confidence inspired within me.  However, there have definitely been moments that have left me pulling out my hair, drinking extra cups of coffee, begging for a sick day, and feeling as if I should begin diagnosing myself.  Overall, I have felt so affirmed in my pursuit of this dream and my passion for this upcoming role in my life.  I am so thankful to feel aligned with the Lord's desire I feel He has placed in my life long ago.  With that said, it has been very evident to me that teaching English full time and going to grad school full time is not something I want to (or can) continue to balance.  I don't feel as though I have been able to do either thing fully well.  With this said, I am once again looking into graduate schools with a Biblical emphasis as well. 

Teaching:

  My classroom and students are much, much different this year.  I don't have my first year students who were oh-so-studious, reflective, and could easily see beyond the plot of a story.  I don't have my second year of students who were small in number, diverse in abilities, and had some issues behaviorally.  This year, I have my third year students who are 97 in number, are more social little butterflies than in years past, and want deeply to have a personal and more in-depth relationship with me.  They desire to know someone and to be known by someone.  They are begging for someone to prod at their hearts.  It has been an incredible year to do that in moments.  To provide a space for them to reflect on questions they have in life, worries they have, moments where they feel joy, desires they have, etc.  My classroom has become a space for their and their pens have become a source of communication.  This year I realize that I am teaching them more how to process than how to diagram sentences.  And I am more than okay with that. 

Social:

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Miscellaneous:

    This fall my life has seen some fairly drastic changes in various areas.  A roommate moved out, a couple friends got married, some moved away, and I began grad school and teaching.  With these changes, I have experienced some moments of great independence and some moments of great loneliness.  Space and time that used to be occupied that in its place now there is an emptiness that leaves an incredible void.  This has been difficult.  The shift in priorities with going back to school near the top.  Because of these things, I have found myself in moments of growth.  Moments of stretching in its awkward uncomfortableness and being stretched into an even deeper understanding than where I began.  I've needed to learn how to be in moments and be present.  To come to terms with my feelings in those moments in order to let them go.  Learn to work through them, instead of over them.  So I'm learning.  I'm sitting in each moment and embracing the stretching for one day to have a greater capacity for understanding.

Thoughts

I just finished the book "Crazy Love" (by Francis Chan) last night. As if the entire book wasn't enough, the last chapter truly struck me at the core of my heart. In previous chapters, Chan addressed the need for a radical change in the lives of Christ followers. The insight and own convictions he shared sparked hope and necessity for change in our complacent christian lives. However, this last bit grabbed ahold of my heart even more so. Here are a few excerpts from the last chapter:

(When referencing how we finish this book...) "We respond with words like Amen, Convicting sermon, Great book... and then are paralyzed as we try to decipher what God wants of our lives."

"We need to discover for ourselves how to live this day in faithful surrender to God as we 'continue to work out [our] salvation with fear and trembling' (Phil. 2:12)."

"Memories are wonderful, but do you live differently because of them?"

"Never make a principle out of your experience; let God be as original with other people as He is with you."

"...put [yourself] in situations that scare [you] and require God to come through."

"It means I put every hope in God's fidelity to His promises."

What have I done with what God has given me? How do I rely on Him throughout each day? If my list is short, should I not change my life in a way that requires that reliance and trust? So often I let God open incredible opportunities in my life and then I grab at them and run selfishly in them...when I get in a bind through the journey, I get frustrated and turn to God once again. Who am I to taint an opportunity so delicately laid out by the Lord with my own plans? Is it not my heart's desire to have Him lead? An example I think of is furthering my education. As I read through my process of getting to this point in my first semester of grad school, I saw the blatant hand of God presenting this passion and opportunity. I have now taken it into my own hands and am making plans to move to a different school, pay for classes, etc. without anyone's influence but my own. How much more beautiful the process would be if I allowed God to play a role amidst the process...not just the beginning and the end. It's my desire to do so.

Within this chapter it also talks about how so many people are waiting to find their purpose in life and waiting for a calling from God. As they do so, they are sitting in front of the TV, going out with friends, taking trips, etc. Was God telling them to do that? No. This is NOT to say that any of those things are bad, only to point out that we are so very slow in engaging in being a servant of Christ as we are quick to rationalize the other acts and priorities our lives hold as we wait for God to speak in our lives.

I had an incredible conversation with my grandparents as I drove the windy roads home yesterday. Their wisdom, discernment, honesty, and vulnerability opens my heart in a way that few others have the ability to do. We spoke of the past as a whole and the role it plays and should play in each of our lives. When it says "Memories are wonderful, but do you live differently because of them?" I thought of our conversation. We can't live in our memories, neither good nor bad. We have to live because of them, in spite of them, refined by them. Recognize the purpose of the past experience and memories and live it. Reliving the memory, either good or bad, robs your heart and days of growth.

If you are desperate for a final summer read, pick up this book. It's a bit radical and will leave you possibly defensive and uncomfortable, but it demands your heart to be fully, wholly, and diligently...day after day...to be placed in the hands of Christ.

Roles

Currently I split my days in half--the morning being a student and the afternoon being a teacher. I sit down, as diligently as possible, in the mornings with my cup of coffee in hand waiting to be told what to learn, what to grasp, and what to research for the day. As I complete these tasks, I find myself reading into the assignments more and trying to see the professors' views. What is the purpose of this? What standard is this fulfilling? Are they looking for what we know or what we've learned? These questions continue as I seek to not only be satisfied with the answers my mind embraces, but also to seek to learn the content...not just the professor. In the afternoon as I transfer roles to the teacher and begin to write curriculum for the upcoming year, I find myself stuck. What am doing? Why am I not planning lessons on self-esteem issues and the challenges they are facing? Why am I not creating an environment for them to share their hearts instead of their worksheets. I find myself in this "in-between" awkward stage of teacher and student. English and counseling. I've struggled pursuing them both with the same assiduousness. As if the pursuit of one is at the sacrifice of the other.

What I'm beginning to realize is that there is purpose in each step. I know that I love teaching. I love the investment in the students and I love literature. There's a peace about me when I'm active in both. However, I also am confident that God has prodded at my heart toward counseling and widely opened doors for these opportunities. Through struggles in life, He has been preparing me for this. It was through my teaching that I recognized this. It is through my constant reading and understanding and writing that I have come to heal in a way that is more personal than I imagined. Although it may be difficult for me to sit here and wait and process and wait and study and wait and teach and wait...I must embrace the steps and the pieces that are being so delicately placed together. I have a friend that is amidst a change in life that requires some risk taking, confidence, surrender to the unknown, and waiting. At the end, this opportunity holds incredible growth for him and those he encounters, hope for those they encounter, and delicate lives changed. The end result is so clear and evident, but how broken is the road that leads up to that. I quickly assured him that much like this, a road begins with the broken pieces of gravel that must slowly embed themselves and broken more to become the end product. How true is that not only in his situation and mine, but all of ours. We must remember that everything begins in pieces and to truly appreciate the end result, we must be patient along the journey. A sermon I heard recently talked about how the greatest thing we can give to God is our will. Our will. It includes our moments of waiting, of confusion, of loss, of joy, etc. Our will allows Him to be in control of the pieces and the end result.

I want to live in a way that doesn't need to know the worries or the plans of tomorrow because my will and my ways belong to the Lord today.

Hello, remember me?

I have begun countless posts, yet could follow through with none. My guilt of my absence stood between my finger and the "publish post" button. It has been longer than I ever hoped it would be. Alas, summer has inspired me to break down that guilt and begin once again to fill you in on the joys and happens of the world that surrounds me. The following may seem broken and in disconnect because of my attempt to fill you in on the last three months and the current state of my heart.

I'll brief you quickly on the end of the school year, but will only mention what I feel is necessary so that this won't get overly long for all of you that like to enjoy your summers days reading something beside my ramblings :) Much as the beginning of my year, the end came so unexpectedly. I found myself sad, but not mourning the loss of my students as I had last year. Which I have come to an understanding about and a sense of contentment. My team of teachers will be changing next year and I found my heart more burdened for that. As most of you realize by now, change is not exactly my forte. I deny, fight, and struggle to the end until it has inevitably run its course and I'm left to deal with it. As I recognize this, I understand it is a change (ironic?) in my perspective that I need to develop. I'll continue to work on that. Along with the change that would happen with my coworkers, I knew that the summer blues were once again around the corner. As crazy as it may seem, I hate the summer. It's not the warm weather, beaches, and tans that I hate. I find myself desiring the hands-on interaction and investment I have the other 9 months of the year. I feel as though I have to take a time-out from what I believe is my purpose for the moment. When realizing this, I attempted to find outlets to maintain a sense of investment during the summer so this feeling that I dreaded could not drown out the sun and barbecues that were quickly approaching. I found nothing. Ideas were plentiful, but as opportunities presented themselves, doors were closed tight. It was then that I began to pray for open doors and opportunities for investment that I so desired. God not only provided one for the summer, but within the next 2 weeks after that prayer. A friend who is a youth pastor was in need of an extra female trip leader for a soon-to-be-freshmen mission trip to Kansas City. I think we were both surprised that my reply was "yes."

My one problem was that I started graduate school the week before I left. This meant that all my assignments for the following week of my trip needed to be completed before I departed. Yikes. I had no idea what that all encompassed, but by 3am most nights leading up to the trip--I was awakened to that reality. With grad school behind me, I drove up to their church, attended their service, and hopped one of the 15 passenger vans to begin our drive south to Kansas City. I knew one person out of the 22 on the trip, but quickly felt as though I had been apart of their community for years. I love when you feel as though you are exactly where you are supposed to be, which doesn't always happen for me all that often. But for that week, for those 6 days, I felt that. I felt the purpose in my presence, along with the presence of those middle school students in my life. It was a Youth Works trip, so most everything was planned in advance for us. We stayed at a church with a few other churches. During the week, we split into separate groups to do various service ministries in the community. In the evenings we had worship, speaker, and processing time. Through this week, God affirmed me in my pursuit of my degree in counseling. He affirmed me in His grace. He affirmed me with the surrounding of middle school students. Who knew such peace could be found in a room full of crazy 14 year old students.

In fear that I could write for pages more, I will leave you with a few funny stories in the past months. Know that the consistency of my writing will improve greatly in the following days and weeks.

School:

On the last day of school, we had an all-school carnival day. Not your typical carnival, but one with a football and track area filled with various games and inflatables. Now, imagine if you will, the bleachers filled with 500-600 middle school students. I am standing in the middle of the field with the majority of the staff members. My team, four 7th grade teachers, are in charge of the field goal kicking station. They felt as though it would be a good idea for me to demonstrate how to kick a field goal. Brilliant, right? Pretending to be the best kicker my students have ever seen, I demonstrated. And failed. I then became the field-goal-kicker-holder-person. Another coworker quickly demonstrated the correct way to kick and had a brave soul from the stands to help start off the day. Again, 500-600 students are all watching this. The kid struts down to the field and steps back to begin his approach. I so badly want to close my eyes, fearing my poor finger will be the cost of the boy's confidence. Although I don't, now wishing I had. As the boy runs forward and is inches away from kicking, he stops (afterward, I find out he didn't feel he had taken the appropriate number of steps backward). As he stops, his kneecap--at my eye level--pops audibly and goes behind his knee. What do I do you ask? What any respectable teacher would do in front of the entire school, I instantaneously throw up on the poor boy. I wish I was kidding. When the paramedics arrived, they were concerned he had thrown up from the pain. My coworkers were quick to assure them that it was just his teacher that had thrown up on him. Humiliation? Unavoidably so.

Kansas City:

On our service projects for the week, I was paired with a youth pastor from the group I came with and 4 girls from our church...including a leader from a different church and 4 kids from their youth group. At one of the homes, we were helping an elderly lady clean up her backyard and organize things inside her home. Her backyard and home were beautiful, but had just gone without attention and care. She described it as her "pride and joy" in life and was saddened at the state it was in. For inspiration, we went and got the kids slushies on this hot day and explained how sad it was that this lady was all alone and had no one to help her clean this up. We continued to spur them on in encouragement at the service they were doing for her. As the day went on, I stopped in to see how some of the girls inside were doing. One girl asked the lady if her husband was awake yet. I froze. I never realized that they didn't understand that her husband was not living (at least that was our understanding). I tried to give her the "mother-warning" eyes, but you must not truly have that look until you are a mother because it didn't work. I held my breath as I awaited the lady's response. That was, until the bathroom door opened. Out walked her husband. I was stunned. My girls quickly turned away as I was still trying to process that this man was alive. However, seconds after that realization...I realized something else. He was naked, head to toe. He was equally surprised to see us and within seconds (which seemed like minutes) he fled to his room. I quickly made my exit, assuming the girls were doing just fine without me.

Choices/Grieving/Loss

"...every time there are losses there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper."


--Henri Nouwen


I've experienced many different venues of loss in my life. Each of which looks entirely different than the other. I've experienced the loss of friendships, family, dreams, etc. In recent years, I've grieved the loss of a high school classmate, a student, and now a college classmate. Although my grieving was more connected to grieving for those closest to the ones lost...it was a loss all the same. Memories are revisited in a different light. An understanding must be met. But how true is it that "every time there are losses there are choices to be made." When my student committed suicide, we chose to grieve the loss not point the blame in anger. When my high school classmate was killed overseas, we chose to acknowledge the heart and passion and the joy of his life fully lived rather than dwell in anger toward the war. With the recent loss of my college classmate and friend, I am choosing not to hang on to the questions of why in resentment and anger. We have power in these choices; however, making these choices is crucial. It is through them that we can let them be "passages to something new, something wider, and deeper." How important is it then to not only choose this for ourselves, but to open these choices to those suffering loss around us.


I was able to attend the visitation this week of my college classmate. The depiction of grieving and celebration of life was evident in the most real way I have ever experienced. Mark, my fellow English teaching major friend that was killed, lived in a dorm that prided itself in the community it upheld. Actually, that's not true. There was no pride evident in that dorm of men. Moreover, they were known for the intense depth of community and understanding. Years before, I watched as they flooded the dorm's stoop and invaded the green lawn of our college as they communed together. This week, I watched as they flooded the stoop of the funeral home and invaded the parking lot.


Some angry.


Some sad.


Some depressed.


Some distressed.


Some sullen.


Some laughing in the memories.


Some...nothing.


All embracing and accepted. They understood each other in a way a community should. I found myself, in this moment of mourning, in awe of their realness, vulnerability, and acceptance of each others way of processing. I longed to be apart of something of that depth. I cherished the depth in which they loved Mark. The way they were mourning for the loss the other was experiencing. I feel blessed to have seen such a real, true depiction of community, especially when in hand with such incredible grief.


I approached my board today and thought--Mark is not doing this today. He's not walking into his school or into his room or even enjoying the early afternoons off. And he's not. He's enjoying something so much better, and because of that realization--I must choose that when I walk into my school, into my classroom that I choose to live. And not only do I choose to live, but the way I live must be a choice of constantly striving toward something Greater. My friend just recently blogged about how we don't choose when we are born. We don't choose when we die, but we do choose how we live.