This story begins on Wednesday. One of my favorite students (by "favorite," I mean one of my students with whom I have established rapport) asked to get something from his backpack. He wanted to show me something. This kid's brain travels 100 mph as well as his body, so I reluctantly agreed to his request. He shows me the letters A through N of the Japanese alphabet. He even wrote his name in Japanese. I was impressed. He found it in a book from the library. He asked if I wanted to copy it. I said yes. He thought I would copy it by hand. Ha. He has no idea the magnitude of my artistic limitations. I went to make a photocopy of the page in his notebook, but the machine was broken. I told him I'd make a photocopy the next day.
Somewhere in the scramble to finish a report and an Individualized Education Program (IEP) and realizing that I left my laptop charger at my other elementary school, I forgot on Thursday.
By chance (or was it, God? Hmm?), I saw him after his reading intervention group in the hallway. I asked him if he had his notebook and told him I forgot the day before. He said jokingly, "What is the matter with you?" I joked back, "Where to begin?" His response was simple, "You forgot." Oh yes, my memory. That's the problem. I joked it's what happens when one gets old.
I don't have to do everything. I can't remember everything, anyway. Another gentle reminder that I am not perfect, nor am I expected to be perfect by anyone except myself.
My job is daily reminder that I need God's help. Does this student have a speech language impairment? How do I connect with this student? How do I teach this student to make the /f/ sound? It's been a year already! While I do help the students, I trust God to ultimately take care of them well into adulthood. After all, they don't stay in elementary school forever. I'm thankful I have been at the same elementary school for the past four years. I have known some students for all four years.
Lately, I've come to the conclusion that my devotion to my students--how else can I describe how much I care about them?--is a tiny reflection of how much God cares for us.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Taking a moment to say, "Thank you."
Dear Jesus,
There are many times when I wish I did not need you. My flesh is rebellious. My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. This often makes me angry. I am idealistic. This is not the ideal world our Father created. This makes me sad and really angry. I am completely dependent upon you. I also have this belief, this ideal that I should be able to choose you all of the time. It's the logical choice. I know you are the living water that will satisfy my every need, but I don't always feel like you are present. I don't always trust you will be there. I'm afraid to be abandoned. So, my flesh pushes my Spirit from the top of the hill and seizes control. I numb the pain, however briefly.
Despite this rebellion and despite the ebb and flow of our relationship, you love me. You do not give up on me. You chose me. While I do not deserve your love and your grace, I am worthy. I belong to God. He knows how much of a mess I am, yet He continues to love me.
Check out this TED talk by Brene Brown, entitled the power of vulnerability: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html
This video alone was an answer to my prayer. It is not the complete answer, but it is a start. A solid reminder that God hears me, and He sees me.
The point of this letter is to describe how God has answered my prayers today despite my recent rebellious behavior.
Yesterday at work, after a 2.5 week break, was stressful. The students in the special education kindergarten class were not jiving with the routine. Some adjusted better than others, but needless to say by the end of the day I had been hit and bitten. Nothing serious physically but a difficult pill to swallow emotionally. I am slowly getting used to the physical aspect of working with kindergarten students with special needs. I cried after being hit the first time by a student in September. Since then, I barely blink an eye. Yet being bitten was a first, so it was a bit unnerving. Regardless of the craziness, I really did see Jesus' presence. The chaos of our first day back from break was manageable. We have definitely seen worse days.
This morning, I woke up with waning hope for the day. I needed to test a student; today was my last possible day, and the student's cooperation is fickle. I also did not know how day #2 would be with the class of kinders. Monday had drained my energy.
I discussed my concerns with Jesus and left it up to Him. I knew I was at His mercy. I always am. I am completely dependent upon Him. If I'm honest with myself, I hate that fact. Yet there's this mysterious measure of freedom and comfort knowing I don't have to be in control. I don't have to be perfect. I don't have to be anything. I can be me: imperfect, awkward, kind-hearted, and whimsical.
Today was such a blessing to see Him answer my prayers today. The student came with me to be tested, and then we played with toys that yielded more data than the standardized test I gave him. Despite moments of chaos in the kindergarten class, there were also sweet moments of peace as all the students were doing what was asked of them. I chatted with co-workers and one even went around the table during lunch rubbing everyone's backs.
I am so thankful.
Yet, the rebellion continues. I just don't know what to do with myself at home once work is over. I'm tired from the day, but a nap does not seem appropriate. Watching television to sit and relax leads to mindless munching. Then a cycle of guilt is perpetuated along with feelings of ugliness and a distorted sense of size. I feel the tension between my impossible ideals and trying to figure out how to love myself. I feel like I lose every time, or, if I feel like I'm "winning," I easily trip after a few days, usually when I acknowledge my success. It's like I sabotage myself. Damn my rebellious flesh.
So, I'm angry that I am sinner. While I try to wish it away, God has already provided a solution. Jesus, you are the solution. You lived perfectly and fulfilled God's law. You were utterly dependent upon our Father. You, too, were dependent. Why do I think I can be independent? The thought makes me giggle, yet sadly it's a thought I frequently believe. I thank you for sacrificing your perfect life, for taking my sin to the cross. You conquered death; you redeemed my sin. Everyone's sin. You are my Savior. God sees your perfect record as my own. I don't have to be perfect. I do not deserve your clean record, Jesus. It is a gift. Grace.
So despite the chaos within my own soul, I wanted to take a moment and say, "Thank you." Thank you for being faithful; thank you for listening and answering my prayers. Thank you for loving me and my students. Thank you for being bigger than my sin. Thank you for thinking I am beautiful.
I feel like I never know when I should share and when I should just keep things to myself. A relationship is between two people, after all. The last two weeks at church, the pastor has asked us to share how God has shown up in our lives the past week. How could I begin to summarize all that you do for me in my daily life as well as my overall spiritual journey? You meet me where I am in ways I do not know how to describe in a neat summary.
How I long for when you return, so there will be no more tears and no more suffering. Despite my angry desire to have that become a reality now, I trust your divine plan. There is so much I do not know.
But I do know, Jesus, that you are good. All the time.
There are many times when I wish I did not need you. My flesh is rebellious. My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. This often makes me angry. I am idealistic. This is not the ideal world our Father created. This makes me sad and really angry. I am completely dependent upon you. I also have this belief, this ideal that I should be able to choose you all of the time. It's the logical choice. I know you are the living water that will satisfy my every need, but I don't always feel like you are present. I don't always trust you will be there. I'm afraid to be abandoned. So, my flesh pushes my Spirit from the top of the hill and seizes control. I numb the pain, however briefly.
Despite this rebellion and despite the ebb and flow of our relationship, you love me. You do not give up on me. You chose me. While I do not deserve your love and your grace, I am worthy. I belong to God. He knows how much of a mess I am, yet He continues to love me.
Check out this TED talk by Brene Brown, entitled the power of vulnerability: http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html
This video alone was an answer to my prayer. It is not the complete answer, but it is a start. A solid reminder that God hears me, and He sees me.
The point of this letter is to describe how God has answered my prayers today despite my recent rebellious behavior.
Yesterday at work, after a 2.5 week break, was stressful. The students in the special education kindergarten class were not jiving with the routine. Some adjusted better than others, but needless to say by the end of the day I had been hit and bitten. Nothing serious physically but a difficult pill to swallow emotionally. I am slowly getting used to the physical aspect of working with kindergarten students with special needs. I cried after being hit the first time by a student in September. Since then, I barely blink an eye. Yet being bitten was a first, so it was a bit unnerving. Regardless of the craziness, I really did see Jesus' presence. The chaos of our first day back from break was manageable. We have definitely seen worse days.
This morning, I woke up with waning hope for the day. I needed to test a student; today was my last possible day, and the student's cooperation is fickle. I also did not know how day #2 would be with the class of kinders. Monday had drained my energy.
I discussed my concerns with Jesus and left it up to Him. I knew I was at His mercy. I always am. I am completely dependent upon Him. If I'm honest with myself, I hate that fact. Yet there's this mysterious measure of freedom and comfort knowing I don't have to be in control. I don't have to be perfect. I don't have to be anything. I can be me: imperfect, awkward, kind-hearted, and whimsical.
Today was such a blessing to see Him answer my prayers today. The student came with me to be tested, and then we played with toys that yielded more data than the standardized test I gave him. Despite moments of chaos in the kindergarten class, there were also sweet moments of peace as all the students were doing what was asked of them. I chatted with co-workers and one even went around the table during lunch rubbing everyone's backs.
I am so thankful.
Yet, the rebellion continues. I just don't know what to do with myself at home once work is over. I'm tired from the day, but a nap does not seem appropriate. Watching television to sit and relax leads to mindless munching. Then a cycle of guilt is perpetuated along with feelings of ugliness and a distorted sense of size. I feel the tension between my impossible ideals and trying to figure out how to love myself. I feel like I lose every time, or, if I feel like I'm "winning," I easily trip after a few days, usually when I acknowledge my success. It's like I sabotage myself. Damn my rebellious flesh.
So, I'm angry that I am sinner. While I try to wish it away, God has already provided a solution. Jesus, you are the solution. You lived perfectly and fulfilled God's law. You were utterly dependent upon our Father. You, too, were dependent. Why do I think I can be independent? The thought makes me giggle, yet sadly it's a thought I frequently believe. I thank you for sacrificing your perfect life, for taking my sin to the cross. You conquered death; you redeemed my sin. Everyone's sin. You are my Savior. God sees your perfect record as my own. I don't have to be perfect. I do not deserve your clean record, Jesus. It is a gift. Grace.
So despite the chaos within my own soul, I wanted to take a moment and say, "Thank you." Thank you for being faithful; thank you for listening and answering my prayers. Thank you for loving me and my students. Thank you for being bigger than my sin. Thank you for thinking I am beautiful.
I feel like I never know when I should share and when I should just keep things to myself. A relationship is between two people, after all. The last two weeks at church, the pastor has asked us to share how God has shown up in our lives the past week. How could I begin to summarize all that you do for me in my daily life as well as my overall spiritual journey? You meet me where I am in ways I do not know how to describe in a neat summary.
How I long for when you return, so there will be no more tears and no more suffering. Despite my angry desire to have that become a reality now, I trust your divine plan. There is so much I do not know.
But I do know, Jesus, that you are good. All the time.
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