Today was President's Day. Yay presidents! Or, more accurately, YAY, day to myself! I have not had an entire day to myself, myself, in I don't know how long. To say that I haven't been fully alone in years is probably not a stretch. I'm pretty sure the last thing that comes remotely close to qualifying is the time I spent last June at a conference in Dallas for work. But that was for work, and I was really only alone once I got back to my hotel for the evening. I've been looking forward to today like a kid waits for Santa.
I should have planned out my time better, though. How foolish of me. I knew this day was approaching, this blessed miraculous day, where I am the only one who has the day off and the daycare is open. I had a laundry list of things I wanted to do today:
Sing at the top of my lungs (check)
Clean/re-organize my closet
Sew (almost got there)
Take a nap (check!)
Control the remote (check)
Workout (check)
Eat a pan of Krispie treats with no one around to judge me (still on my bucket list)
Obvioiusly, not all of the items on my list were accomplished by the time I heard the garage door announce the arrival of the rest of my family, conclusively ending my "Me Day". And I can't quite account for what I did in between the few items on my list that were accomplished. Well, that's not true. I do know. I meandered through my day and took my time at every turn. Meandering through your day will waste a lot of time.
Maybe if I had planned better, made a schedule, complete with time limits. ...Then, maybe, I could have accomplished more. The next time one of these days rolls around again, I'll be better prepared. I'll know the difference between being productive and enjoying my day and "meandering".
In other news, my girls keep growing. Can't believe B will be starting Kindergarten in the fall. I remember carrying her to the baby room in her daycare, totally in awe of the big kids in the back of the building. I remember thinking how foreign that world seemed to me: playgrounds, macaroni art, and circle time. And now, it's time to start thinking about backpacks, lunch boxes, and school supplies. I've already started talking to her about how after this spring, she won't go to her daycare anymore. I think she'll be fine, what I'm worried about is the fact that she probably won't see most of those kids in her class again. She's already had two "best friends" move/go to a different school, and she's adjusted fine, but she still asks about and misses them.
L is getting close to sitting up on her own, and I think scooting around the floor, and hopefully, a tooth. She always has a ready smile on her face, a grin that spreads from ear to ear, making her eyes light up and radiate. Gosh, I can't believe how big she's getting! It seems like yesterday I was holding her in my arms in my hospital bed, shortly to be followed by the weeks of frustration while we figured out the reflux thing. Although, at the time, that seemed like months, many hellish months.
I know that I'll blink, and she'll be in Kindergarten too, though. How do they grow up so fast? And how does time go by so slowly in the eye of the child? I love my husband, my kids, my life. But sometimes I desperately miss the familiarity and security of childhood. My bright, open bedroom. The sounds of my brothers playing in the living room. The smell of Mom making dinner in the kitchen, and the sounds of Dad strumming his guitar. I remember thinking it would be FOREVER until I was big enough to do this, or old enough to do that. And now I'm the adult. And B is the one who can't wait to get big.
Sometimes I wish you could DVR life. Rewind and relive all the great moments over and over again. Moments that everyone takes for granted and no one fully appreciates, at least not for several years.
Wow. This post made a bee-line for Nostalgia Way; was not expecting that. It's probably time to end this post anyway, since I can see a little someone about to wiggle her sleeping self out of her bouncy seat. Time to get swaddled and head to bed, and I probably won't be far behind. Goodnight. :)
Pound the rock. A sports metaphor. That was the message that we walked away with from the staff meeting shortly after the Christmas break. Keep going. Keep trying. Don't give up. Try something new. Pound the rock.
I can't lie. Some days I feel like I've pounded the rock until nothing remains but residual powder. ...But that's usually when my "rock" miraculously regenerates itself. ...And I can continue to pound away. :)
I feel blessed to be a teacher at a campus that puts the kids first. A campus that continually tries to seek out new and innovative ideas to reach and engage our kids. And boy am I glad I'm not alone in that endeavor, because at times, it is physically exhausting and mentally draining.
You know how, when you're looking for something at the store--something you made a special trip for, no less--and you can't see it? ...You think to yourself, and this happened to me tonight actually, 'If I stand here long enough, the item I am so hopelessly searching for will appear.' Sometimes I feel that way about seeking out new ways to reach my kids. I find a quiet place that guarantees no interruptions, which is usually the shower, and I put my mind on the problem, and I stand there, and I think. And I think. And I'm convinced that if I stand there long enough and focus my all my inner Jedi Power on the issue, that an epiphany, wholly new and never thought of before, will spring to the forefront of my mind, rendering the issue at hand powerless. ...And then I will be sought out by teachers the world over to teach them my fail-proof techniques.
That sounds amazing, but that will probably never happen. Too many papers to grade, lessons to plan, and kids to manage to have time to have epiphanies of that nature, which is why I am beyond grateful that there are people out there to have epiphanies for me.
Enter the awesome Webinar Series our staff has done the past two weeks.
Blessed are those who have time to research, for other teachers will surely prosper.
-Teaching Proverb by Amanda-
Tonight I walked away from our staff meeting feeling truly rejuvinated and ready to tackle my tricky student behaviors, and I found myself trying to figure out a way to get my family out of the house for a couple nights so I could wholly envelope myself in a cocoon of creativity and ingenuity...and probably some markers and poster board, too. :)
While that probably won't happen (and it's not entirely bad; I ADORE my family), I do have some fresh new, research-based techniques that I can't wait to try with my kids. And just in time, too. Did you know the Reading STAAR test is a mere FIVE. WEEKS. AWAY?! I am expecting my usual TAKS Twitch, to be re-named "STAAR Twitch" to return shortly. ...Every year for the past few years, right before state testing, I get a twitch under my left eye. Google says it could be a tumor. But I highly suspect otherwise. Google has a tendency to over-exaggerate, for one. And secondly, if it is a tumor, it only occurs around the time of state testing. And since I've yet to hear of selective tumors, my money's on the STAAR Test, formerly TAKS.
I like to think that when I'm conversing with a student, and they notice my hideous twitch, that they are terrified into submission and think to themselves, 'Man. This stuff must be seroius if she's twitching at me!' ...In reality, I probably just look like an idiot with an eye twitch...if they notice it, and I pray they don't. One year a kid did. I try to maintain a safe distance from students now, when the twitch is in full effect; best not to scare them. lol
But, for the time being, I remain twitchless, with a Bag of Tricks that has just been freshly filled. Like a blank page invites the writer to create, so this bag inspires me to get creative with my kids. To try something new...which ironically isn't new at all, however profound the ideas. To keep pounding the rock.
So tomorrow, if you see me with a pick ax and a safety helmet, please don't call security on me. I'm just pounding the rock. :)
Like every other Sunday, this morning found me at Brazos Fellowship. I love this church. For years, after I graduated high school and left home, I struggled with going to church. Not because I didn't want to. I just didn't feel comfortable in the ones I went to. So I quit going. And I hated every second of it. I knew I should be in church, fellowshipping with God, but I wasn't.
Finally, about 5 years ago, I'd had enough. I had gotten a couple fliers in the mail about a new church, and it sounded good, but I was nervous to go. Then during a meeting with my wedding photographer, we got to talking, and he mentioned that he attended this church and I should check it out. This was probably late 2005/ early 2006. Brazos Fellowship was meeting in the cafeteria of a local middle school. I went. I looked for Art and Connie, my wedding photographers...never did manage to run into them there, but there was more than one service, and weekends are prime wedding time.
I went sporadically for about a year, but I liked it. I enjoyed the freshness that the church offered, the realness. I enjoyed the senior pastor, Will Lewis, who seemed on fire for God and His people.
In 2007, the church got a new building...an old night club behind a Wendy's. I'm still blown away by the story of how the church came to acquire the building. Totally God. I was still going sporadically.
Shortly after my oldest daughter was born I realized that, while my heart had never turned from God, being a "sporadic" church-goer wasn't how I wanted to raise my children. It wasn't the picture of God I wanted them to know. I wanted them to know God. To really know Him, and this required some conviction and a case of "Putting on my Big Girl Panties and dealing with it." So, with baby in tow, we went.
We were greeted, for several weeks, by Michelle. I've told her before, but I don't know that she'll ever know how much of an impact her warm welcomes meant to me. In my insecurity, I needed to hear God. I needed, desperately, for Him to tell me He needed me here. And through Michelle's words, her warm welcomes and smiles, He did just that.
I didn't feel weird. I didn't feel awkward. I didn't feel like a visitor. I felt Home. Finally, after so many years, I felt at home again. This was, indeed, where God wanted me.
But it's hard to break old habits. And warm beds, and soft blankets, are intoxicating. I still went sporadically. But Will's messages always washed over me like warm water, welcoming me back. Week after week, I heard God through Will's words, and saw His love in Will's actions. But I felt Satan pulling at me, telling me that Sunday morning sleep was still okay.
But it wasn't with me. I decided to dig my heels in, stick out my tongue at Satan and say, "No." I got plugged into a women's group and a marriage group-both Bible studies. And, not knowing anyone there but Michelle, who had invited me, I went. And God honored my obedience. And Satan was forced to admit defeat...because he's sucky and a loser. :)
...Let me make it clear that, to this day, I'm still working on my walk. And I still struggle with getting out of bed in the morning. I did today. Luckily, God has blessed me with a new daughter, someone else to fight for. And, even if, in my groggy morning state, I can't come to that clarity, I still have to get up to feed her. So it's kind of a win-win.
The longer I attended Brazos Fellowship, the more I learned about God, and about how deeply this church, this body of Christ, cares for people. I met Kristen, who cried with me over struggles and sadnesses that we both shared. We leaned on each other and trusted in God's word. I met Rebecca, whose road to God was broken and twisted, who had been shunned by other "Christians". I met Chuck and Melissa, who led a marriage Bible study and made no bones about the struggles that their marriage faced; how they were in the process of a divorce when God began to work in their hearts and mend their lives.
All of these people were broken. Like me. I could list so many more sweet, sweet friends whose roads to God did not come easily. ..And I felt so blessed that I was lucky enough to be led to Christ at an early age by my parents. It was something I didn't have to fight, tooth and nail like my sweet new friends had had to do. ...That's what I thought. But I was wrong. Because I was fighting. Although my past seemed smooth enough, I was having to fight for the relationship I wanted with Christ, something I had allowed Satan to whittle away at for years.
I still attend Brazos Fellowship, and I am have never met a group of people who, in my opinion, work so hard to live out what Christ has asked us to do: to be his body. To be his hands and feet. To be a city on a hill, a light in the darkness. God is truly at work here.
And what I love most about this Body. More than anything else. Is that these people know that being a Christian is not about a religion. It's not about rules. It's not an "I gotcha". It is about a RELATIONSHIP. A relationship with the Savior who died. Who took my place. Your place. To bridge the gap between a perfect God and a sinful man.
I have been asked in recent months about my relationship with God. I have been challenged by people who question a God whose people would wage wars in His name. Is he not a God of love and acceptance? they would say. Religion is what is wrong with this world today. People are judgemental, and they base it on God and religion.
And in my heart, I know the answer to this. I know that God is not about religion. He is about a relationship. While God clearly makes it clear that to gain eternal life, you must put your faith in Him and repent from your ways, it His kindness and grace that draw us near; not fear or rules. He doesn't condone violence against others.
My heart is broken that people feel otherwise. That people would be turned off of church because of people who call themselves Christians. But we are people. We are sinful. We are imperfect. And we cannot pretend to know the ways of God, and God, in His perfection, should not be judged by what we think we know about Him. ...But in my heartache, it is sometimes difficult to find the words to say to defend my God, who I know is perfect, and pure, and full of love for me--for the world.
Today at churched, we watched the following video. And I feel like it answers these claims head-on. If you don't know the Lord, or you have turned your back on Him, because of people--imperfect people--please, please take time to watch this. Please take time to consider that God is bigger than our imperfections. That He desperately loves us and seeks and longs after a relationship with us. And leave here knowing that Jesus is greater than religion.
