I'm Here, I'm Here!

I know, I know...I have made a shocking return to blogland! Don't worry, I haven't gone anywhere, just neglected my bloginating duties recently, for like the last month. So, to quickly catch you up, here are the top 10 things I did while on my unintentional blogging sabbatical.

10. Survived a harrowing drive through Iowa and Minnesota to come home to my parent's for Christmas.

9. Made venison sausage.

8. Had a Christmas miracle when my car heater started working again after giving me a scare!

7. Pierced my nose. Well I didn't do my own, some tattooed pierced guy at a tattoo shop pierced it. I love it.

6. Drank lots and lots of coffee.

5. Went to Conover for Thanksgiving and met Janlee, whom I like.

4. Survived the week before Christmas break festivities with 19 7 year olds and a speed eating contest.

3. Got a cordless drill for Christmas.

2. Began packing for my move in January.

And...

1. Got a dog named Truman. He's not a democrat though, I'd say he's more of an independent.

Blogworld...

I'M BACK!!!

Thank You.

Grandpa.Uncle Richard.Uncle Bob.Uncle Jack.Uncle Duane.Luke.Laurel.Andy.Ramsey.Bill.Uncle Milton.Tommy.John.Sean.Random man who lives upstairs.Pastor Jack.

Take a minute and thank a veteran today.

Chester's Letter

I got this email from Chester the Turkey. My response will follow tomorrow!

Dear Name Giver,
This is one of the happiest days of my existence. I was released outof my isolated spot in the closet and allowed a "front-and-center" spot on the floor where I wish I could be forever. Oh, I know that I am part of a tradition, but I still dream of that day when I am set free. I needed to let you know since you are responsible for my best name ever. Thank you for that name - it was a long time ago that you did that for me. I hope to see you soon - very soon. Be sure to say hello to me when you come to my place of habitation.

Chester.

PS I allowed someone else to write this for me - my "fingers" don't do well on the keyboard. I think she is the one who ties me up every year.

99 Balloons

Actually Sir...

I went to my first bigger Compassion event. I don't know if you all know, but I am now a child advocate for Compassion International. I have felt a strong pull on my heart to be involved in some kind of ministry involving children, and I didn't really want to volunteer at Awana or something like it, because I teach all day long, and that would be too much time with kids. I'd probably end up running around with my hands over my ears. So when God brought this opportunity to me, it seemed like a great fit.

I went to a youth pastor's conference, along with Naomi, another child advocate here in Wichita. We drove up to Salina Kansas, and proceeded to spend the next day manning our table and talking with people about what Compassion does.

One of the speakers was a professor at the Southern Baptist seminary in Fort Worth Texas. During one of the breaks, he came up and briefly looked at our table.

He picked up one of the child packets and the set it down. "That girl is the same age as my granddaughter," he commented. "How sad."

Without blinking an eye he walked away. As Esther says, I bit my tongue until I tasted blood, because what I really wanted to say was this:

"Actually sir, it's not sad. What is sad is that you walk around here with your name brand clothes, your blackberry visibly clipped to your overpriced belt that's holding up your pants over your ample stomach, and yet you turn away and do nothing. This child is not sad, she is in a project that will help her develop in more ways than one, and she is waiting a sponsor. The sad thing, sir, is not this child. It is the fact that overfed, overclothed and overindulgent Christian Americans, like yourself, would rather spend more money on coffee or dining out, than on making a difference in the life of a child. You sir are what's sad."

I didn't. As much as I take after my father, I am learning when to get on my soapbox and when not to.

Naomi commented on the drive back that it was very hard not to judge those people.

I agree.

If you vote, Starbucks buys your coffee

Go Vote. And then get some coffee and enjoy the day fully caffeinated. Whatever the outcome, whether your candidates and issues win or not, God is still in control.

Politic-ing

I am not vocal about my political opinions. However, this year, I am being pretty outspoken about the Bond Issue that Wichita Public Schools desperately needs to pass. I even hung up a sign, the first outspoken expression of my political views. There are many people opposing the Bond here in Wichita, and I understand their reasoning for the opposition. But please, just for a second look at it from my point of view. I work at a school with 818 kids as of Friday. Added to that, over 100 staff, parent volunteers etc, and on any given day we're pushing 1000. In a school built for 600. We are incredibly overcrowded, and this bond issue will help that. But the opposition is critical of the swimming pools and tennis courts, and the technology funding in this bond issue...but don't our kids deserve schools with great athletic facilities and up to date technology? I think yes. So, I am saying, vote Yes for Kids. And yes, I can promise you that your taxes will go up, but not so significantly that you will have to alter your lifestyle. So when you Wichita voters go to the polls, think critically about your vote on this issue, and ask yourself this question: do these kids deserve an excellent education in excellent and safe facilities with excellent teachers?

Where is God?

I'd have to agree with Bono.

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them."

Downsizing

Vanessa, Laurel and I had a garage sale this weekend.  I had 3 big tubs of stuff that I sorted out and decided I didn't need.  It felt so good to get rid of some of the excess that we, as Americans, tend to have.  

Last weekend, while I lounged by the pool in Dallas with Jenna I was reading through Real Simple and they had an article on recycling and donating used goods.  They listed these two places to donate glasses and shoes.  We have so much stuff in our lives, it so often clouds what we really need to be focusing on.  Many of the things that I purged were things in perfectly good condition, but that I just don't use anymore for whatever reason.  Maybe I wanted a newer lamp, or the shirt shrunk in the wash, or I wanted new shoes.  Whatever the reason behind it, I am living in excess.  So, maybe the challenge should be not only to purge some of the excess and pass them along to people who have genuine need, but also to really think about and consider the things that we buy so that we aren't constantly living in excess.

Let The Baby Boom Begin

Kaylee and Dusty started the baby boom (in my friend circle that is) when they welcomed Lila Jane into the world on October 1st. Congratulations you guys, she's a keeper!

Sight

They sat across from me. He had a big belly, his shirt was stained and dirty and stretched across it. Her hands bore the evidence of hard work, callouses and chipped nails. Between them sat my student, a huge grin on his face, typical. To my right, our translator, my lifeline to the parents.

The conference went normally, questions were answered; I had some concerns about academics I said, they agreed. Towards the end I knew there was something I was forgetting, but I couldn't remember what. Oh, right, his glasses. I knew he wore them last year, and he's had an eye test twice this year and failed...were they planning on getting him some? Did they get the phone call from the secretary?

They ordered them, they were in, but they couldn't afford to pick them up. He had his health card up until last year and no longer qualifies. I learn that his middle school sister also needs them, one of her eyes goes off this way they say, pointing. A lazy eye. I ask where they went, and they show me the information. Hmm, I say, that's the same clinic I go to. I know they are expensive, I don't even buy my glasses there. I have a sinking feeling that they didn't understand because of the language barrier.

Do you mind if I call them I ask. Can I take the doctors information? Would you they say...thank you. I promise to call the next day.

I call the next day and leave a message for the doctor. She calls back. I explain who I am and the situation. Can they afford $100 each she asks. Honestly, no I say. They are genuinely poor I can tell. They aren't just "using the system". What about $30 a pair she asks. I think they could do that I say, thanking her. Our secretary calls the mom. I get an email later that day. The mom says that they can afford that. They will go on Friday when they get paid to pick them up. She says to tell me thanks. I really don't want it, I just did what I knew was right. Christ calls us to be a voice for those who can't speak for themselves, literally and figuratively. I was the voice for this family, the advocate some would say. I like to think that I was a living Jesus to them. I like to think that they will someday bless someone else because they were once blessed.

Today, a proud little 7 year old boy wore his new glasses to school. The gift of sight, so precious. He looked around at stuff like he was seeing it for the first time. What a beautiful world, everyone deserves to see it.

You Know Your Lesson is Over When...

...a student says "Oh my gosh! My pants are on backwards!".

Melancholy

Kathy, my dear friend and coworker, experienced a great loss this weekend as her father passed away. He hasn't been well for probably 6 months or so, and in the last month has really gone downhill fast. It has been hard on her, and rightly so. Her parents live in Indianapolis, a 15 hour drive, and several layovers if you fly. She leaves tomorrow to go be with her mom and brothers, and to say a final goodbye to her father on Saturday.


Bekah, my dear friend from church, is about to pop. She is almost 8 months pregnant. We had a book shower for her and her baby Levi, who we are all very excited to meet.

Two different people, two different ends of the life spectrum. Great reflection and revisiting of memories, and in a strange way relief for one; great anticipation, preparation and joy for the other. Life is happening all around us. Are you paying attention?

Starbucks, as always, passed on some good perspective that I shared with Kathy today.

The way we get to live forever is through memories stored in the hearts and souls of those whose lives we touch. That’s our soul print. It’s our comfort, our emotional nourishment at the end of the day and the end of a life. How wonderful that they are called up at will and savored randomly. It seems to me we should spend our lives in a conscious state of creating these meaningful moments that live on. Memories matter.

~Leeza Gibbons
(Television and radio personality)

September 11

It is strange waking up on September 11th, 7 years later, thinking about what happened that day in 2001. Where I was, what I was doing. September 11, 2008 was much more ordinary. I worked, thinking and praying about the families of the victims throughout the day. I talked briefly with my students, who were either infants or in utero in 2001, explaining briefly what the day was about and what it signified. We read The Man Who Walked Between the Towers . I met up with Vanessa and Laurel for Bible study. A very ordinary Thursday.

On my way home from Bible study, I noticed a flag flying at half mast, and wondered why it was lowered. Then I remembered the date. I felt guilty at first, for not remembering, for it not being more significant or out of the ordinary. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I felt that doing my ordinary things in my ordinary life while thinking about that day quietly, in and of itself is honoring to those who lost their lives that day. I am so thankful for my freedoms, and perhaps enjoying them in this ordinary way on September 11, 7 years later, is the best way to give tribute to those who lost their lives, or who are still fighting for our freedoms.

From The Man Who Walked Between the Towers:

Now the towers are gone.

But, in memory, as if imprinted on the sky, the towers are still there. And part of that memory is the joyful morning, August 7, 1974, when Philippe Petit walked between them in the air.

Creepy Crawlies

It was a rough day. Not anything in particular, just a whole bunch of stuff. My day started with not being able to get onto the highway because someone decided moving over for me was not a top priority and just went downhill from there. Grant and Vanessa came over after they had youth group, bearing smiles, laughter and ice cream. We also decided to have some Gewurz...my new favorite after wine tasting in Sonoma with Zach this summer. We were sitting, chatting and laughing, and I took a sip, then noticed this. Not nearly as bad as Cheri's black widows, but equally ewwie considering I drank out of that, and at that point it was still alive. Although, that's probably not the worst way to go.

Decisions, Decisions

Yes, this is a horrible picture of me. But the concept I think is funny. Vote Bob Barr.

Something New

So I am trying to become a more consistent blogger. I love blogging, but often am so overwhelmed and exhausted when I get home that I don't sit down and blog. I got this idea from one of Zach's friends, Kristi, who has a picture of the day blog. I have decided that I am going to keep my camera handy throughout the day and try to get a picture of the day (without students, privacy stuff) of my class or my life.

We had our family night tonight. The kids made hats to remember to come. I got to talk because I was voted loudest. Thanks mom and dad. I am on the parent involvement committee at school and so I kind of made this my baby. I made copies, powerpoints and flyers, all of which have to be translated into Spanish of course. Whew, exhausting, but I am really proud of what I did. My team and I are all happy to have one of our 2 family nights out of the way for the year.

Cut Your Ears Off

My students got their hearing checked this week.  Turns out that they can hear me, so their inability to follow directions, even simple ones such as STOP TALKING must be due to the fact that they are 7 years old.  Oh, to be 7 again.  I don't know if I specifically remember being that age, but I remember the era.

I have to keep telling myself that the fact that they never stop talking and can't follow directions is because they are 7 and they can't help that, so I can't get frustrated.  This is by far, the lowest class I have had, and I am looking at it for a great opportunity to work with these kids and see great growth.  There is amazing room for potential.  

One of the kids, upon learning that we were going to get our hearing checked responded with "Is she going to cut off our ears?!?" 

No, but at least they're starting to get my sense of humor.

Breakfast Product in a Biscuit

I forgot to eat breakfast today. It was the first PLC (profesisonal learning community), or as I like to call it, Pathetic Losers Club, of the year. We meet as a team at 8 every Wednesday from now until eternity, and it being the first one threw of my morning routine and I left the house with only my lunch in tow. Realizing this halfway to school caused me to pull into a Macdons to get some kind of food to tide me over until lunch. I went inside, the drive through line was insanely long, and ordered a breakfast product in a biscuit and coffee. While I was waiting for my breakfast product in a biscuit, I observed the caliber of society that ascends upon a Macdons near my school in the wee hours of the morning. There were lots of men getting their morning coffee, and them being there seemed normal or fitting almost. There were some older people taking their time eating their finely crafted cuisine, and they as well were not out of place.

And then I saw them.

The family.

Squished

into

a

booth.

Stuffing their faces...and I (ashamedly) thought to myself "and the fat get fatter."

So much for not judging today.

The Chair

On the corner of a street near my school there is a little yellow house. This little yellow house has a porch. On the porch there is a simple wooden kitchen chair. Most mornings there is a man on the chair. He looks quite old, somewhat frail and from my distant observation he's lived a good life. He's African American and he always is wearing coveralls. When I pass him on my way from Starbucks to school he waves. I wave back.

I am so intrigued by this man. I want to know his story. I want to take a black and white picture of him sitting on his chair on his porch. I want to sit down with a glass of iced tea and watch the world go by from his chair on the porch, I want to learn from him, to see what he has to share with the world and leave with us once he's called home. I probably never will, and that's okay. I am busy collecting ideas for my someday to be written children's book, and this man and his porch just might be it.