Do not be anxious...

Philippians 4:6-7 "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

I posted this verse as my facebook status, and within the day I had 17 "likes".  I guess we can all use the reminder to not be anxious.  It makes me wonder why we get so hung up on worry?  Is it a trust issue?  Or control?  Obviously, this verse was speaking to me or I wouldn't have posted it, but it seems like it rapidly drew attention among my friends... could it be that we are collectively crying out for peace?  Not "world peace", but something more like "inner" peace.  The kind of peace that only comes from knowing Jesus as your best friend.

I recently started writing a blog that really turned into a prayer, just a conversation between me and God, not necessarily to share with the world (or the 5 people who regularly read my blog).  But somewhere in my prayer/journaling I found myself saying to God, "The steering wheel is way too far out of my reach right now.  I don't like this.  I don't like it at all."  Control issues, anyone?  I think it comes down to trusting that God is bigger than life.  He's in control...and I absolutely am not.  And I resist that truth.  I honestly don't like admitting that I can't fix things, or make things the way I think they should be, or make everyone happy and healthy and perfect.  This whole imperfection thing is incredibly humbling.

But I am thankful.  Because in the midst of days when my mind swims...drifting, sometimes crashing, from one point to another... God reminds me of exactly who He is.  He is worthy of my trust.  He is faithful.  He loves me more than I can understand... and He loves my loved ones even more than I do.  One of my favorite Bible verses is on a crumpled sticky note on my bathroom mirror- Isaiah 26:3-4  “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. 
Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD, is the Rock eternal.”  I love this daily reminder to keep trusting, because sometimes it is hard, but He is worthy, and His peace is worth it.

My pastor shared in church this past Sunday about God's goodness.  I'd like to leave you with some thoughts I collected after listening to his message and talking to some sweet friends about how good God is...

Glass half empty? Pessimist.  Glass half full? Optimist.  Cup runneth over??? Blessed.

God is good.

Even when it feels like your cup is getting awfully empty…

John 4:13 Jesus said to her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

I may not always feel filled… but God’s love and life are waiting for the taking, even when I can’t find the words to ask.  Isn't it sweet to know that He will give us His peace, which surpasses all understanding, and that peace will overflow within us?  

God is good.  Always.

A Lesson Learned in the Hundred-Acre Wood

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh?" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand. "I just wanted to be sure of you.”
~A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Caffeine-induced insomnia, a busy mind, and a full heart have brought me to this place.  The writer inside of me can't sleep until I find words to reflect on this very long day.  Today I watched a best friend say goodbye to her baby for the last time, as she exhibited more strength than I can ever imagine having (or want to have the occasion to need). Later,  I shared chips and salsa with an old friend who always infuses me with encouragement, even on the worst of days, weeks, or months, and I was blessed to be able to rest in the bubble of respite God always grants us during our time together.  I was reminded by another soulmate of the blessing of faithful friends...the peace that comes in knowing that "I can be sure of you".  All of these special people, and the special places God has carved for them in my heart, reminded me today that true friendship, while hard and messy and challenging at times, is a beautiful gift from God, modeled after His own love for us.  Proverbs 18:24 reminds us that "there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother".  The kind of friend God calls us to be is one who loves and encourages and offers strength even in tragedy, frustration, and adversity- maybe especially in those times.

I feel like I need to tie my thoughts up in a neat and tidy bow, but the reality is that this life is neither neat nor tidy.  And today, life as I know it was extraordinarily messy.  I am thankful for my God, who I can always be sure of, even when I am sure of nothing else.  And I pray that my precious friends, whom God has privileged me to know, can always be sure of me in the same way. 

Summer Reflections

As I sit down after a whirlwind first few days of school, I take a moment to ponder tomorrow’s writing assignment for my third grade class- “How I Spent My Summer Vacation”.  After reading Mark Teague’s highly imaginative and slightly over-the-top adventure of the same name, we will take some time during our first Writers’ Workshop session to give some thought and reflection to the summer we are leaving behind.  During our first writing sessions, I often like to journal with my kiddos, simply modeling the desire to transfer thoughts and feelings to pencil and paper, and so I find myself already thinking ahead to those reflections and memories I’m sure to write about.  What better to do with those thoughts than transcribe them into my blog?  I know this is an outlet to share lessons learned through teaching and experiences in education, but the truth is, I can only be a good teacher if I also learn from my life experiences outside the classroom as well.

Reflections on the summer of 2011 (or How I Spent My Summer Vacation)

Have you ever had a really intense season of growth, or shifting, or change?  When it sort of feels like gravity has shifted just a little bit…when you discover that not all your priorities line up the same way they used to?  Well, as I look back over the past few months, I consider that perhaps I’ve shifted a bit in my priorities and goals.  My time was consumed quickly in the short months between summer school and a new school year, but I spent that time living out experiences that I wouldn’t trade for the world. 

In June, I auditioned for a community theater production, one of those things I’ve always said I’d get around to someday, when I had time.  I’m so glad I decided it didn’t matter if I had really had the time or not…my small role was such a fun learning experience, and I look forward to spreading my wings in future productions!  Maybe I’ll even get to sing in the next show! ;-)  I loved being a part of the team…one of many who worked together as a cast to produce a class act.  I’m lucky to live in a place where community theater is something to take a great deal of pride in, and know that I will always hold that first show dear to my heart.

Throughout June and July, I also had the amazing opportunity to watch a group of young singers grow musically, relationally, and spiritually as we traveled together around Northwest Missouri and across the northeast United States, delivering a message God has privileged the group to share for the last 41 years.  Last spring I was overjoyed and amazed to be offered the role of adult sponsor for the New Generation Singers, and this summer was one big gigantic ball of blessings as I got to “live the dream” and give back to a group that gave me so much in my formative years.  And what’s really incredible to me is that this group continues to give back to me…friendships, and opportunities to lead, and a wonderful spiritual family.  How lucky am I?  No, scratch that- how blessed am I!

I would be remiss if I reflected on my summer without mentioning one other little unexpected blessing…a little ball of fur named Periwinkle.  A dear student from last year, who knew how much I loved the kitty I lost to cancer last January, had been telling me about this little kitten since she was born last spring.  Periwinkle came to join my little “family” in June, and there hasn’t been a dull moment since!  Curtains have come down, a goldfish has been traumatized, and she’s nearly drowned or strangled herself more than once…in fact, I’m not sure how many of her nine lives she has used up already!  And yet she’s brought a great deal of exuberance and joy (and maybe a bit of Pangur’s spirit) back to my home, and for that I am thankful.

So, to summer I say "farewell" as I look forward to the adventures next summer will bring, and in the meantime I will begin a new school year refreshed, rejuvenated, and recharged to do the job God has called me to do for another year.  And I will gratefully hold in my heart the friendships, adventures, and experiences of this gravity-shifting, life-altering blessing of a summer.

Lessons from the Junkyard

"Some people look at the things the way they are and cry, 'Why!'  But I want you to look at things and see what they could be and ask, 'Why not?'" -Mrs. Peterson, in The Junkyard Wonders by Patricia Polacco

It's my favorite time of the year in third grade...time to dive deeply into the study of one of my very favorite authors, Patricia Polacco.  I marvel each year at how quickly the students connect with her literature, and find it even more amazing that every year I find myself learning life lessons through her stories as well.  This week I read to my class Ms. Polacco's newest book, The Junkyard Wonders, along with my personal favorite, Thank You, Mr. Falker.  In both of these stories, a teacher believes in his or her students- against all odds- to achieve greatness.  Mr. Falker knows that little Trisha can overcome dyslexia, with lots of patience, resources and hard work.  In The Junkyard Wonders, Mrs. Peterson is thoroughly convinced that her "junkyard wonders"- those students facing insurmountable physical, intellectual, and emotional bonds- will succeed at anything they put their minds to.  Both stories are beautifully told, inspiring tales that encourage the heart of a teacher.  However, I believe there is a deeper lesson, hidden just below the surface.

Mrs. Peterson didn't just "believe in" her students.  She gave them tools, materials, time, resources, and the freedom to strive for greatness.  She also had the fervent expectation that her students, seen as "worthless" to the general population, would indeed do amazing things, because they aimed for the moon and made a plan to get there.  I've heard it said before that "you should always aim for the moon- if you miss, at least you'll land among the stars!"  That's what Mrs. Peterson did for her students... she set them up for enormous success, knowing that contrary to popular opinion, they were not destined for mediocrity.  I won't spoil the story for you and tell you how it ends, but I will tell you that I think all teachers who feel a little discouraged or frustrated could get a boost by reading this story.  "Inspiring" hardly does it justice.

Last May, I asked my students to write me letters before the school year was over and they were no longer in my class.  I asked them to tell me in their letters what they hoped they could say to me, twenty years down the road, if they ran into me like Trisha ran into Mr. Falker many years after he was her teacher.  I saved those letters, and look forward to one day hearing that my students have become NCAA basketball players (hopefully Jayhawks!), football or soccer players, massage therapists, teachers, carpenters, artists, video game creators, authors, illustrators, moms and dads...but most of all, I look forward to hearing that they were successful because they studied hard, earned scholarships, and learned to love reading, maybe even because of something I did or said to inspire them.  I can't wait to ask this year's class to do this same activity in a few weeks!  I know they have some incredible dreams bottled up in those minds, and I am thankful for the reminder each spring, through a gifted children's author/illustrator, to be reminded of the greatness inside each small one in my classroom.  I hope they will learn to ask, "Why not?" when approached with challenges in life.  I hope they won't be afraid to forage ahead when things get tough.  And I hope they will believe in themselves and know they are worthy of their own trust.  I will hold this reminder in my heart and be encouraged to keep giving my little friends the best of me for the next few weeks, as another year rapidly draws to a close.

I wonder how many more lessons we will learn before this author study wraps up?  We're only in the first week, after all!!!  :) Thank you, Mrs. Peterson, Mr. Falker, and Ms. Polacco!

Writers' Block

As I have embarked on my blogging journey, this year, I have discovered that the stories do not always come as easily as I would like for them to.  Of course, there are always stories...however, not every story is suitable for sharing with the general public!  So I find myself with a typical case of writers' block- previous posts have brought tears and tugged at heartstrings, and I've struggled with where to go from here.  When my students don't now what to write about, I sometimes give them the pat answer of "just write about whatever is in your head" or "pick something from your seed list".  We do exercises in "stream of consciousness" or brainstorming, and I expect ideas to emerge.  As I think about my own writing, though, I find that I don't want to write something until I have the perfect thing to write.  I get all tied up in wondering if anyone will be interested in what I have to say, and I feel stressed out when I think my writing is for no authentic purpose.  So today, as I was thinking that I should really just commit to start blogging regularly and watch for the stories to be discovered in the process, it gave me a new understanding of my students' struggles.  Just like me, they don't want to write about just any old thing- they want to say something important to the world, and they don't want to waste words on something trivial.

I don't know if this post will mean anything to anyone but me (and I have to accept that and move on), but as I write something that I feel is rambling and nebulous in purpose, I recognize that sometimes ideas can only sprout when those random seeds are sprinkled throughout the garden of thought.  In this simple effort to write when I have nothing important to say, I suddenly feel the same frustration my students often do.  So what do I do with this lesson learned?  I remember that sometimes, even if it isn't important, I should just say something... the rest of the story will come in its own time.  And I practice... knowing that my writing can't always be perfect.

Lessons from a Butterfly

Peace and quiet.  We hear that phrase on occasion, but few of us really know what peace and quiet truly feels like.  Quiet, yes.  Peaceful, not so much.  One of my students today wrote a rather eloquent description of peace and quiet… a much appreciated sentiment after a hectic day.

“When I am in church

I am like a quiet butterfly

   fluttering, listening, praying.

When I am worn out I rest

  my wings

and think.”

This simple, sweet description of a little girl’s quiet place made me think… how often do I take time to retreat and meditate?  Am I ever like a quiet butterfly?  Alive and fluttering, yet silently listening to the echoes of the world around me?  In our high-stakes tested, intensely rigorous, deeply engaged world of education, I think sometimes it is easy as an educator to lose sight of the silence, the necessary peace and quiet where we must sometimes rest. 

I have a plaque hanging just inside the front door of my apartment declaring, “today I will stop and smell the daisies”.  How often am I too rushed to even notice the artwork that reminds me to take time to live life? Between the challenges of school and the burdens of daily life, the stress often threatens to overwhelm me.  As I read my student’s delightful little poem today, I thought to myself “Today, I need to take time ‘to rest my wings and think’”.  And as I spend my evening hours grading papers, updating data, giving descriptive feedback to students, and updating my blog, I will remember that sometimes I need to just be like a butterfly- quiet and still and completely at peace with the world around me.

And I will begin with a cup of coffee.

Shared Grief

“Sorrow makes us all children again – destroys all differences of intellect. The wisest know nothing. ” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

This past week, I faced a personal heartbreak…the loss of my beloved kitty-cat, Pangur.  He was in many ways my dearest friend- unconditional, faithful, loyal, and loving.  Pangur and I had been through many seasons of life together; college, my first teaching job (and subsequent changes in positions), and most recently, graduate school.  Over the past few months, Pangur began to show signs of an illness which ended up being diagnosed as feline lymphoma.  As it turns out, the silent killer of cancer was inside my kitty’s body, and though we tried hard with the best medicine, chemotherapy treatments, and lots of prayer, Pangur’s little body grew very tired and it was time for him to go home to Heaven.  On Friday morning, January 28, 2011, Pangur surrendered in his brave fight with cancer.

My students had known about Pangur’s illness for some time.  They often left me little notes to tell me they hoped he would get better soon, and that they knew how much I loved him, and that they wanted me to let them know how he was doing (as of course, third graders love to include “write back soon” in the post-script of their letters).  We had many conversations about life that began with Pangur- thoughts about how wonderful our animal friends are, and how they teach us to be responsible and love without reservation, and how much it hurts when we lose a four-footed family member.  Pangur had become known throughout the school… last year’s third graders vividly remembered the stories of when Pangur used to sleep in the bathtub and in the bathroom sink.  They asked daily as I passed through the lunchroom how “the big white kitty” was doing, eager and hopeful eyes waiting for a good report.  My students, present and past, loved to hear reports that he was eating his tuna and sardines, and hung their heads with me when I shared that he wasn’t eating well anymore.

The morning Pangur departed from this life, I entered my school building with a heavy heart, praying for strength to endure the day ahead.  My students immediately knew something was wrong, and walked with me, somber and silent, to our classroom.  I shared with them that I would be very sad that day (and likely for many days to come), and I needed to let them know why.  Their intuition had already revealed to many of them that the very saddest moments had occurred that morning with my baby-boy-kitty, and I spotted a tear coming down one of my dear little friend’s faces.  As I haltingly told them that my Pangur had passed away, the girls, without prompting, gathered to hug me, and the boys sniffled back the tears they were too “tough” to share.  My students took care of me that day, as I struggled to make sense of the grief that threatened to consume me.  They tenderly encouraged me, shared stories of their own losses of family pets (and even people, too), and in the innocent manner of children, took on my pain as their own.  A little girl from my class took on the burden of sharing the sad news with my fourth grade friends, who approached me with silent hugs, knowing that there were no words that would heal but wanting to offer comfort somehow.

These expressions of love throughout this longest of days taught me something precious, a lesson I never want to forget.  In sorrow and grief, we become more like children, questioning and struggling to understand this thing that hurts so much.  And yet children, when faced with a friend’s sorrow, are wise beyond their years.  They know, as adults often forget, that words are just words, but “being there” is the most important part of grief counseling.  They know that a hug can heal.  And they know that sometimes all you can do is let your friend cry, and cry with them.  So, with a heart that is still a little broken, I say thank you to these precious cherubs who so willingly loved on my broken heart.  May I demonstrate such child-like love, and child-like faith, as I walk this journey of life.