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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             N/A

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.

"Miff Mahr"

For those of you who were wondering, I do still teach. I was reading back through the last 3 entries (which were supposed to cover 7 months...my apologies) and realized how few entries there were dealing with teaching and my students. I want to start reflecting more on my teaching as well. Today will be a reflection of my stories with one student in particular.

Let's rewind a bit to give you some background. Last year I was informed that I would have a blind student (we'll call him "Jon") in my class this year. My initial stress was just to get all my books, worksheets, PowerPoints, and miscellaneous assignments sent in to be brailled. Never did I truly stop to think about the other possible hindrances that would confront me along the way. I have him twice a day and truly got to know him quickly once the school year began. I have made some rather embarrassing mistakes that I never thought to prepare myself for, such as....

During one of our first fire drills in school, I left "Jon" in the classroom. It never even crossed my mind. Lucky for me, a student was a lot more thoughtful than I. :) Close call on that one. I also often would refer to papers/worksheets by their color, which of course he couldn't see. My entire approach to teaching had to be molded into something slightly different because of my non-verbals, my "sight sensitive" speech, and my activities. He quickly warmed up to me and had quite the sense of humor about it.

Once, he came back to my desk to ask me a question. My other students were talking loudly, so I told them to quiet down because "Jon" was going to think I was yelling at him and run away from me. Well, "Jon" thought it would be funny to pretend like he was scared and actually run away. I mean, literally run away. Did I mention he's blind? So there he went, running away from my desk at a pretty decent speed. He got about 3 desks in before he hit one of his own bags and went tripping forward. He almost regained his composure until he ran into my stool in the front of my room, then continued into the wall, bounced off of the wall, and then landed on the floor. Fun fact: I have a TV with a VCR/DVD player underneath it right where he ran into my wall. He was literally inches from scrapping his head. When I approached him laying of the floor of my classroom, I found him crying because of how hard he was laughing. I cannot even express the relief I felt in that moment. This gave me an idea to let him run. I had my class line the hallway on both sides and put their hands straight out toward the center. "Jon" ran back and forth 'cane-free' by using their hands to guide him. It was incredible to see that bonding take place between my students in the class.

This past fall, I got a cold. It was, of course, during a time that I just couldn't take off work and call in sick. So instead, I fought losing my voice. That Monday morning after the cold really set in, I walked groggily into my classroom to greet students. I began instructing them when "Jon" raised his hand. I called on him casually, only for him to ask, "Where is Miss Mahr today? I didn't know she was having a substitute." I laughed and corrected him. He continued, "Are you serious? I thought you were a MAN!"

"Jon" also has a personal Braille machine that he is able to create worksheets, letters, etc. on. I thought it would be a good mixer for my homeroom class to all learn how to Braille. Like all good teachers do, I decided to precede my students and be a model for them. We had little post cards with the different Braille letters and combinations on them for the students to use as reference. As I sat down with "Jon" to learn, I got a little too comfortable and hurried through writing my name. When he read it back to me, it said "Miff Mahr" instead of "Miss Mahr." And of course, when mistakes like that are made in a middle school classroom, it stuck. I have been, and probably always will be to this class, "Miff Mahr." I wish that was the end to that story, but alas it is not. The embarrassment continues. Each student continued to Braille their name to be hung on the wall and show our bonding for the rest of the year. Watching "Jon" teach the students and be able to bring them into his world was incredible. Somehow, this was brought up at the board meeting and the local newspaper caught wind of the students learning to Braille from their blind classmate. Great story, right? The newspaper came to my room and saw the students' names up on my wall, along with the Braille word of the day that students can read, decipher, and then define for candy. The reporter's eyes didn't stop there, though. She saw--in quite large letters--the sign that read "Miff Mahr's Classroom." Of course, this peaked her interest and "Jon" was more than happy to explain his English teacher's ignorance and haste. The picture and article was front and center of the newspaper the next day. The article was an incredible depiction of "Jon" and what he is capable...even with his English teacher who can't seem to spell her own name.

This brings me to the present. Although we have had several moments of confusion, "Jon" has progressed and opened doors to opportunities 7th grade students would never even dream of. He has been involved with APH (American Printing House--for the blind) and working to bring tutorials on how to use their up and coming technology for the blind. He has made videos for his Braille Plus, playing the wii, and using everyday computer tasks. He went down this fall for a conference at APH in Louisville, Kentucky. Presenting at this conference was quite the ordeal and honor. Little did he know, more opportunities would soon flood his doors. We were just informed that he has been asked to go to Washington D.C. this summer and present at a banquet for the House of Representatives and their staff. What an amazing possibility for a 13 year old! I had him announce that to my homeroom class. Sadly, a few of them made similar mistakes I had earlier in the year. Their responses were classic:

One student said, "I can't believe you may actually get to see the
president."

Another, "Tell me what the White House looks like when you come back."

We never learn. Luckily, he got quite the kick out of it. "Jon" came in early to school on Friday to talk to me about his speech. He was told that all good presenters start out with a joke or funny stories to capture their audience's attention. Of course, I endorsed this and was thrilled that he was coming for help on his speech. He quickly assured me he already knew how he would begin--by telling the exact stories I just told all of you. Never did I imagine some of my most embarrassing moments as a teacher would be presented in front of the House of Representatives. Yikes.

These are important stories to remember on the days where purpose is lacking, motivation is no where to be found, and patience is nonexistent in my room. I apologize for the lack of these redemptive, yet embarrassing, teaching stories that enable us to see the joy that can be tucked behind frustration. Sometimes all it takes is bringing it to light.

the act of rending:

This past month has been one that has left me in a state of “unsettledness”…feeling discontent.  

On my decision to go back and get my Masters degree, I did the formal approach to my school and filled out the paper work for them to honor my hours in order to move over in the pay scale.  Although I thought this would be a simple 2 step—I sign, they sign—process, I was surprised to be denied my initial request.  According to our contract, my Masters needs to be toward my curriculum area (even though they are not paying for it…just honoring my credits) as stated in our last contract.  This is the first year for it so they are holding firm to their requirement.  I was given the option of taking this before the school board to convince them on how although a counseling degree doesn’t support my degree in English, it does in fact support the education world and would be applicable in the classroom.  Having to do this brought up a lot of emotions of anger, fear, frustration, and doubt.  What if they say no?  I can’t stay here…but where will I go?  What is holding me here in the first place?  And the questions continued.  After a weekend of preparation, I went before the board and pleaded my case.  By this time, my heart felt numb.  The next day when I heard they had accepted my request in my mind, I was thrilled and relieved, but my heart was almost let down.  Since I questioned what I would do, my heart has not been content.  It is lacking the peace it once had. 

This whole situation has brought about conversations and prayers that were both encouraging and eye opening.  I live with two incredible roommates; however, during my time of questioning my future…their future plans became more concrete.  One plans to be married this summer and the other will be done with residency in a year and will be moving for post-residency work.  As I listened to their confidence and direction in their plans, my “strong footing” in where I was and my plans wavered.  I thought about my career that had slowly been showing problems and I had been facing frustrations, I thought about my friend group that seemed to be dwindling as people were beginning to move on with their lives, and I thought about my family that I didn’t get too see often.  What were the benefits of living here?  Acknowledging those doubts made my heart long for the familiar, for my past.  A good friend of mine has had the same feelings of doubt and feelings of being unsettled.  Talking about how we are longing for our “Egypt”.  How, like the Israelites, we always long for what we knew—even though sometimes those places were in captivity.  Why do our eyes and hearts turn to that place of captivity, complacency, test after test, after God has delivered us from it all?

 

I think this period of doubt and distance stems from more than just my questioning of my job.  These weeks of absolute sadness in my heart and separation was a burden to me.  For someone who is a self-reflector, I was not able to figure it out…which led to even more constant heartache.  Through our journey group, we are studying Esther.  This past week we were in chapter 2 when she calls her people (fellow Jews) into a time of fasting before heading in to meet with King Xerxes.  This incident is referenced to Joel 2:12-14 “ ‘Yet even now,’ declares the LORD, ‘return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments.’ Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…” This caught my attention because one of my goals for this year even was to fast at least once every six months.  After our journey group on Wednesday and that reflection on Esther and Joel, I felt prompted to initiate that goal and rend my heart over to God in fasting and in prayer.  So today, Sunday, I am doing so.  This morning before church and this afternoon were spent reading and processing in hopes to see God’s direction…to see what corner I missed the turn on, the opportunity I failed to grasp.  I was sure that this feeling weighing heavy on my heart was a drastic change in my life.  Maybe I am to move to Chicago or Denver…maybe counseling isn’t my thing.  Today was the day I was going to hear that answer.  And if I was lucky, maybe I’d get some neon signs lighting my way.   

Just as God has proven me wrong many times in the past, He opened my eyes to a different perspective to my time in this “desert”.  

I’ve realized that in this time of separation, I have been mourning this opportunity I felt I had missed…a change that I didn’t pick up and run with.  Instead of diligently seeking the Lord, I allowed my burdened heart to fester in its doubt and defeat.  I failed to be an advocate for my heart and my relationship with Christ when a time of detachment came.  With Esther as my model, we are called to rend our hearts…to tear them up and return to Him with everything we are, and although we can’t…God gives us grace.  So we are called to seek that grace.  We have these times and trials of separation because we, too often, need to remember that we have not risen above His grace or our need for it.  Our humility is more important to God than our comfort.  And to help us through that…He has provided His grace:

 

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

                        2 Corinthians 12:9-10

All this to say, I did not receive neon signs indicating a job change…nor did I hear a booming voice discrediting the direction of my counseling degree.  What I did find was that to rend my heart means a full sacrifice. Not just wallowing in my despair, but making myself vulnerable to the realization and need of grace in my life.  I’m ending today with a slightly hungry stomach, but for the first time in a long time…a satisfied heart.

Update

Just a quick update to keep you all posted.  After long discussions and analyzing to the point of exhaustion, I have decided to solely pursue a clinical counseling degree from a university in Nebraska that will allow both online and in-class learning.  This will be easier to achieve the requirements for in-state practicum hours.  It's a 60 hour program that I'll start either one class in March or 3 in June.  We'll see how far this dose of initial ambition takes me.  I'm excited to get started on this long awaited process.  My goal is to be done in about 2 1/2 years and then look for opportunities to get an emphasis in Biblical counseling.  Denver Seminary has an incredible program that has really encouraged my interest.  However, my past is a testament that my plans aren't the ones that matter in God's eyes.  I've gotten ahead of myself and allowed my hopes to rise in countless situations for my future...my goal this time around is to allow Him to be my guide and follow His plans for a change.  

Meanwhile, I'm looking to spend part of my summer helping in a Christian facility for teen girls who struggle with anything from eating disorders to depression to abuse.  There are quite a few "rehab" centers throughout the US...one in particular in Tennessee that I'm hoping to connect with. 

As for teaching school, we are already 6 snow days in and counting.  Luckily, June is still untouched but a few more ice or snow storms and my summer days will be dwindling.  Since arriving back at school, I've lost a very important word to my vocabulary--"no."  Thus, I am now helping start a Thursday night school, hosting and running the Spelling Bee, jump starting a reading/writing strategies course, revamping our curriculum for next year, and attempting to teach my blind student Photoshop (entertaining as you can all imagine...).  I know I had some free time that I wanted to fill, but I think I got a little ahead of myself on this one.   I've enjoyed all of it and realize that I like the "hustle and bustle" of my life for now.  

My sister and niece will be visiting this next week and am looking forward to seeing them.  It's been since Thanksgiving since we've seen each other, believe it or not!  I've thoroughly enjoyed being an aunt to the most adorable girls in the world; although, it makes me want to quit my job and never miss a minute of time with either of them.  Seeing their personalities grow and cherishing the young girls they are becoming has blessed my life in so many ways.