Hidden Gems

Every day is a new adventure. Every day typically has it's ups and downs, highs and lows, smiles and frowns. Today was no exception, but it was certainly a very sweet day.

Before school starts in the morning, I walk/jog with the students on the lower field. One student is absolutely wonderful. She's the kind of student you want to always have around when you're having a bad day or a sad moment. Every time she sees me, I'm greeted with an enthusiastic "Miss. Desautels!" Quickly followed by a hug. "I'm so happy to see you," she adds; some days, she even says, "You're my favorite speech teacher." I consciously overlook the fact that I'm the only speech teacher she has ever had. I feel I can do this, because sometimes she will say how she wants to be a speech teacher just like me. Anyway, this particular student accidentally called me "mommy" this morning. She was embarrassed, and I giggled. I was reminded of the few occasions I have called a teacher "mom," but also of my friend who in, fourth grade, called her male teacher "dad."

My co-worker brought me leftover pancit and adobo chicken from her daughter's birthday party. Delicious!

In the afternoon, one of my other favorite students had something to tell me. He told me all about how he was going to get a new bed after school. His enthusiasm was absolutely darling. I wish I had recorded him. He then leaned in to inform me that he had a secret to tell me. The other student and I leaned in closer. He'd whisper his sentence and add how it's "so cool" and "awesome." I cannot tell you secret as I promised I would not tell anyone. If the other teacher in the room walked by, he'd stop talking about his secret. My heart melted. The entire speech time was spent talking about the new bed he was going to get. Except for the last few minutes. I gave the other student 3 directions to follow. Turns out, he did not know what a sit-up was. Equally interesting, he could barely do one. Neither of them could without someone holding their feet down. It tickled one of the students. It was a highly amusing session and not at all what I planned, yet I heard a fantastic language sample.

There was a low or two during the day, but I'll just sweep them under the rug.

I serve on the youth ministry team at my church. Tonight, all 3 of my small group members were present. It was great to see them all and catch up with what's been going on in their lives. Our discussion was honest and our prayer earnest.

I was asked to give a 2-3 testimony about my time serving the youth ministry at our Easter service. I'm excited to share (or at least try to put into words) my experience serving the teenagers.

To top it all off, I had the opportunity to love my neighbors tonight. One of my neighbors was performing with a friend at a nearby bar. I went to see some of the show. Sometimes being a Christian is tough. :) No, really, sometimes it is, but God's grace is enough, even when it feels like it isn't.

If only the highs of today would motivate me to get out of bed tomorrow morning. What new adventures will there be tomorrow? And will I ever feel motivated to jog after work? I am, after all, running a half marathon April 29. And why is it that I feel awake right now yet I was exhausted after work? America needs to add a siesta to our schedule. Perhaps if we were all rested, we'd be healthier. Perhaps.

Good grief

Oh Charlie Brown, is grief really good? It's a serious question. Nothing about it seems "good," but it seems to be healthy.

Before my uncle died, I had such a different view of death. It was very naive. Despite the sadness of death, I thought it should be a happy occasion. Going to heaven is a good thing. It is. Yet, what is there to comfort those on earth? Yes, that is what I learned. Death is sad no matter what. It sucks. It's this awful reminder that we live in a sinful world where death is the penalty. Yes, Jesus conquered death, so death is not the end, yet it is to those who are still living and missing whoever died.

I still want a dance party after my funeral. Yet, that cloud of sadness just doesn't dissipate. It lingers. It hovers. So, if the dance party doesn't work out, then it's still required that "Baby got back" by Sir-Mix-A-Lot is played at least once. And that's another thing, death brings about morbid, yet factual thoughts of what is yet to come.

I mean I'm used to feeling sad. I'm an emotional roller coaster. I've gotten better at being steady, but this sadness, this grief, hurts. It's physical and emotional. It's this constant ache, sometimes dull and sometimes pounding. I have moments of relief. I have moments of peace. Then, I have moments of absolute anger and sorrow. I amuse myself by saying "the anger stage of grief really pisses me off."

I don't even know what words to use to describe this AND I'M A WRITER! I'm speechless. I feel lost in a pasture I've never seen before. In faith I wait for my shepherd. I'm so glad He knows where I am, because I don't even feel like I can cry out to Him.

I miss being surrounded by my family. I wish I could just hit pause. How do I reconcile life before my uncle died and life since he has died? I started the month of March thinking it was going to be very stressful because of work. Now, work is the least of my worries. Sure, work is still stressful, but I really don't care. It's a blip on the radar. I'll get the work done. So what if I have 15 kids to test (and that number is hardly an exaggeration).

I appreciate people being supportive, but how do I reach out? Show up teary-eyed on their doorstep? Really?

And you wouldn't believe the conversation I heard yesterday at a coffee shop. This guy is telling his friend how he hasn't done meth since the 23rd--since the day he tried to commit suicide by stabbing himself. A few tears leaked out of my eyes.

I just want to scream. Yet, nothing will bring my uncle back.

Bad grief? Healthy grief? I don't know. I just don't know.

Reclaiming Valentine's Day

Let me begin with a confession. Valentine's day last year was my worst day in 2011. Hands down, it was the worst day. I was engulfed by despair over being single. Yet, love really is found in a hopeless place (reference my recent Rihanna and Jesus post). God responded to my tears through a poem. A poem I treasure and will never edit. (Now, if you know me as a writer, then you know I LOVE to edit and constantly reword what I have written. So it is significant that the first draft of my poem is perfect.)

Now, I will tell you a secret. Are you ready? When I was confirmed in the Catholic church in 10th grade (perhaps I was 15 about to turn 16; I have no idea), we all had to choose a saint's name. One would expect a girl to pick a female name. That statement likely applies to everyone with whom I was confirmed, except me. I picked "Valentine." I did not care that it was a male name; after all, my given name is just as easily a male's name as it is a female's. I picked "Valentine," because I am a hopeful romantic (in Christ). I enjoy listening to how couples met. I cheer at the end of a chick flick. How is that different from every other woman? Perhaps it's not, but how many other women do you know who have chosen "Valentine" as their confirmed name? :-p

Anyway, the irony of being named Valentine while being alone on Valentine's day hurt the very core of my being last year.

In January of this year, I resolved that Valentine's day would be different this year. I celebrated Palentine's Day (February 11) with two of my friends. I have already received a Valentine's day card from a dear friend. I scheduled a massage tomorrow. I anticipate a package from my mom and perhaps another Valentine from my dearest friend. I'll also be working with special day class kindergarten students tomorrow. Despite the chaos of the day, it should mean hugs and high fives.

While I can keep the day in check, since it still is yet another day in 2012, my struggle with Valentine's day is something I struggle with all year. Rather, my loneliness or singleness is something with which I struggle.

So what will be different tomorrow? Me.

Oh the struggle in my soul will continue to rage, but Jesus wins. One day, I will have peace every second, instead of a moment here and a moment there. Where was Jesus last year, you may be wondering. He was with me, but I didn't want to talk to Him. I didn't trust Him. Some days, I still don't.

Poco a poco, I'm learning what it means to have faith in God. It breaks my heart that I actually tell myself, in moments of despair, that faith is stupid.

Aside from spilling my guts, I actually have a plan to reclaim Valentine's day. Despite how I feel, I really do love the day. I do not support the capitalist commercialism of the holiday, but the essence of the holiday is important. I think of it as someone who decided to be spontaneous and surprise his sweetheart with a gift, a token of his love for no specific reason. Then that day become commemorated into a holiday, so now every couple has to do something on one specific day. The lesson in Valentine's day is to treasure each other. Dating or not, married or not, Jesus calls us to love each other. Every day.

So, lets try to love each other tomorrow. Instead of speeding up while driving, let the car trying to merge into your lane ahead of you; tell a stranger he or she is awesome. Smile and say hello to someone.

Fellow singles, lets not be haters. Yes, I know it hurts. It really feels like a slap in the face, but if it's one thing I have learned this year, it's that I am loved by my family and by my friends and by God.

Yes, I have reclaimed Valentine's day. How? By remembering I'm loved, even if a boy does not send me a card or a box of chocolates. I am loved, and so are you, dear reader. Single or in a relationship or married or divorced or widowed.

So whether you are dodging Cupid's arrow tomorrow or wearing a target on your forehead, remember that you are loved. I'll try to do the same.

But, if any gentleman out there or a friend wants to send flowers, I'll happily receive them. I am, after all, a hopeful romantic. :)

Prayers in poetry

In rereading a poem I wrote on October 24, I realized my prayer was answered, in part on the very day I wrote the poem.

Here is an excerpt: "Yearning for an apology, closure, peace/A band-aid to hide the hideous wound/Cover it up while it heals/Will it heal?"

On October 24, I received an apology. On October 30, I received closure and peace. I am still healing, but my hope is in God, and He is the ultimate healer.

Evidence Based Practice AND Prayer

So, my fellow speech language pathologists will definitely know the phrase "evidence based practice." I'm sure, however, that it's no surprise for the rest of you to use research or some other factual based information to make a decision or implement a therapy technique, learning model, or which car to buy.

I am so giddy and excited about my day that I wanted to jump up and down while I walked through the hallways at work today. I, apparently, need to make up a happy dance that is work appropriate.

Once or twice a week, I go to an elementary school and provide speech and language services to 12 kindergarten students in a special education classroom, called a special day class (SDC). Some of the students are identified as speech and language impaired, others have autism plus two other labels.

I adore my students. They are challenging and fun all at the same time.

Today one of the students was acting out for attention. The teacher had one of the two aides take him outside of the classroom. The aide needed to run her group so she tagged me in to watch the student. She warned me that he had been throwing sand. Within minutes, he threw sand at me. I decided to implement a trick from my valued friend and colleague. I enthusiastically said, "Thank you! Thank you so much! I love how the sand feels on my arms." He threw sand once again, and I thanked him once again. After that, he either placed the sand in my hand, which I gently placed back on the ground, or he drizzled sand on my leg or my shoe. Then I just ignored him, and he typically wiped it off wherever he had placed it.

But that's not why I'm excited. At one point, he decided he was going to leave the playground area. I did not want to chase him, and I knew if I walked toward him, he'd think it was a game. I told him that it's not safe to leave and the rule is staying on the playground. I did not look at him. Occasionally, I'd say something about staying within the playground. What worked, however, is my prayer. I asked Jesus to keep him in the playground, or at least guide me if I had to follow him. Sure enough, the student returned to the playground and close the gate behind him. I made sure to talk to him and to praise him for making a good choice. Praise God!!!

As exciting as that was, I had a highly fulfilling therapy moment. One of the boys with autism in the class is secretly my favorite. He'll usually comply and even hold your hand if he sees your hand extended. It's very sweet to have a little boy with autism hold your hand willingly. He's not the only one in the class like that, but he's the one I met first. Anyway, this student often repeats rote phrases that are not related to the topic. I believe he is using them to communicate, but I haven't quite figured out what. I'm always happy if he asks me to tie his shoes or repeats something I say. Today, he was playing with play-doh. After he made a ball out of it, he began rolling it back and forth between his hands. So, I asked him to roll the ball to me. With a few prompts, he did. I rolled it back. I told him to roll the ball to me, and he did. I had another student join us, so they rolled the ball to each other. I'm still prompting the student with autism to roll the ball. After that, he boy with autism started playing with a toy car. So, again, I asked him to roll the car to me. He did. By the time we stopped, the student would roll the car to me after I said, "my turn." So there you have it, developing turn-taking skills, which we will use as the foundation for conversation.

AND it gets even better. The second student that I brought in to play with us gave me a hug after we were done. So the student with autism gave me a hug! Best day ever.

I couldn't be more proud of my student or more thankful to God for guiding me. Such a sweet and loving God, who will provide for my students despite my areas of weakness.

Yet another reason why I love my job!

A lionhearted herd animal

I recently posted this quote on Facebook: "Fainthearted animals move about in herds. The lion walks alone in the desert. Let the poet always walk thus." - Alfred Victor Vigny, 1797 - 1863

I struggle with feeling lonely and misunderstood. When I read the quote above, I immediately perked up. I also fancy myself a poet, and I just know that there's some body of work within me that I am meant to write. I've believed that for a long time. Before I believed in Jesus, I was too afraid to venture into my raw identity. What would I find? Since starting counseling through my church, I am walking with God straight into the depths of my being.

All that background to simply state that I identified with this quote, because I felt validated for feeling alone. I am a writer, then of course I am alone in the desert.

Later, I was writing in my journal. I remembered the quote, and then realized how it's actually contrary to my beliefs as a Christian.

I am NOT alone. No matter how many times I feel lonely, I am NOT alone. Not only does God dwell within me: John 16: 32 "Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me," but I am also a member of the body of Christ (Romans 12: 4-6, 1 Corinthians 12: 26-28).

An animal that lives in a herd does not mean it is weak or fainthearted. In fact, it demonstrates a great deal of strength. Living with others is much more difficult than living alone.

I think there's a temptation to feel like we should be an independent lion strutting through the desert, but in reality, we all want a friend with whom to walk.

Lion or not, you're not alone.

Social Experiment: Update!

Oh yes, there is an update.

Here's what I'm referencing: http://smileyface5.blogspot.com/2010/10/social-experiment.html

If you're like me, then you're too lazy to click on the link and read my previous post. Summary: In October 2010 ,I went out with some friends to the same spot 2 nights in a row. Saw the same guy twice. I had given him my number the first night, but I never heard from him. Shocking.

Fast forward to June 2011. While home, I received a random voicemail from some guy named Kevin looking to talk to an Erin whom he met in Las Vegas. While I had just recently went to Las Vegas, I had not met a Kevin. There was no "Hangover" plot during my first trip to Vegas. Well, you'll just have to trust me, since what happens in Vegas stays there.

I ignored it, because I didn't get it until several hours after he left the message. I figured he had figured out that he had dialed the wrong number.

Lets fast forward a tiny bit more to last week. I receive a text message from a phone # that is not in my address book. I ask who it is; he tells me his name is Kevin. I tell him that I do not know him. He was looking for an Erin Reese. He's trying to figure out how he knows me. I'm certain I don't know him and assume he must have entered a phone number wrong of the person he had met. So he finally says, well maybe we met at a bar. October 2010 flashed in my mind. Oh...yes, we met at Blue foot. He pretends he remembers me but gets all the details wrong.

I haven't learned my lesson either. I gave out my phone number last night. I was very surprised to receive a text message from the guy today. Just before church, of course. God has impeccable timing. I think dating is a social experiment I will never fully understand. It's a good thing I don't mind trial and error...

Who says you can't go home?

My memories swirl between fuzzy and clear and back to fuzzy. This post is probably the best way to preserve my memories before my recall distorts what happened. Here are some highlights, in no particular order, as my memories do not follow a chronological order.

1. Thunder, lightning, and rain. Alas, my family and friends already had their fill of rain, but it's a novelty for a girl from San Diego. I never thought the rain would be a delightful homecoming.

2. Practicing my golf swing. From a swing and a miss to a high arc.

3. Coming in 2nd place during a 5k race in Rouses Point. I averaged a 10 minute mile and there were 7-8 people in my age range.

4. Seeing deer. I saw a deer with my bestest friend as well as while walking with my mom. Walking is another highlight.

5. Visiting my bestest friend 3 times. Our smiles and laughter outnumber grains of sand. Who knew marshmallows equaled happiness.

6. A celebration of 10 years post high school graduation with a very special retired English teacher.

7. A flash rainstorm while dining in Lake Placid. Soggy calamari and chips never tasted so good.

8. Visiting family. Nothing beats being adored by younger cousins and reconnecting with family who knew me when I was knee-high.

9. Chocolate world, chocolate world, chocolate world! Watching my mom take a jello shot at 9 in the morning and going to see Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow in concert with 2 of my cousins.

10. Adopting a gag from Big Bang Theory in which I offer my Dad a "piece of chocolate" as positive reinforcement.

11. "Helping" my mom prepare for the family cook out. The first 20 minutes had us doubting the effectiveness of working together. Baking raspberry streusel muffins and banana bread. Making white chocolate chip macadamia nut pancakes and eating pumpkin pancakes.

12. Eating so many delicious things, including a michigan and an ice cream cone from Harrigans.

13. Sitting in the swing with my dad watching the river. I always miss the fish jumping out of the water.

14. Seeing the stars twinkle while walking outside from my room to the house to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (when else would I see stars?).

15. Floating down the river in an inner tube with my mom; chilling in the river while drinking a milkshake with Bailey's.

16. Drinking wine, snacking, and catching up with my favorite friends from Rouses Point.

17. Going to bed at 9 pm, having the power go out at 9:36 pm during a storm, waking up at 2:52 am to drive to Vermont. And now, I'm leaving on a jet plane. San Diego, here I come. Adios, East Coast.

Safe or 2nd base?

Last night was my first official encounter with the x-ray scanner at the airport. In all my travel last year, I somehow managed to avoid it. In San Diego, I told the agent that I did not want to go through the scanner. I was told to sit down in a chair while the man went to find an agent to pat me down. The female agent did not hide her annoyance. She was especially thrilled when I accepted the offer of a private room for the pat down. The articles in the news made the pat downs sound very invasive. I did not want people watching me being man-handled (well, woman-handled). So, the female agent had to find yet another female agent to witness the pat-down. The whole thing was awkward, but I suspect it was mostly awkward because the agent was so pissy about it.

No, I will not conform to a false-sense of security and go through an x-ray machine without a lead vest. Especially since I am given a lead vest at the dentist when the machine is only pointed toward my mouth. Although, I care more about the principle than the health risk.

I anticipated the pat-down to be analogous to 3rd base, but it was not that thorough.

In a private screening room, I stood on my soap box.

Fuel for an SLP

Today was Friday; sometimes, I feel so tired by the end of the week that a Friday is more like a Monday. I did not want to get out of bed. I did not want to go to work. I enjoy working, so to not want to go is significant. Some days, I just want to curl up into a ball.

By the grace of God, I arrived to work on time. My morning appointment did not show. I was annoyed but glad to have time to accomplish other tasks.

My first group was two students who stutter. One is in third grade while the other is in second grade. One teacher reported that the student was participating more and using a strategy we had practiced the week before. The other student reported saying words she used to avoid. I was thrilled, so speech time became a time of celebration. The best part? They wanted to learn more, so they practiced math problems on the whiteboard. I was floating on air.

I also ran around my classroom with a group of kindergarten students playing zombies. It was really fun. It's also not unusual.

The second highlight of my day was exiting a student from special education services. He no longer needed speech therapy. It's just such a blessing to see the parent, the teacher, and myself supporting a student. It's also bittersweet to graduate students from speech. I'm so proud, but it means I no longer get to work with the student. He is such a good role model for pretend play; he has a convincing dragon impression.

As an added bonus, I practiced my Spanish today with a parent. We did fairly well communicating. Her daughter only translated for us a few times. I really just need to make up words, because half the time what I would have made up is actually correct.

I really am doing the job I was created to do.

Godly justice

Yesterday, after a long day at work, I drove through the alley behind my house to discover a car was parked in my space. I was confused. I pulled into my neighbor's empty space. I checked around to see if someone was visiting a neighbor, but no one else was home. My confusion turned to annoyance and frustration.

I decided to write a note with my phone number, since I parked behind the car. I wanted justice. I did not want a vicious confrontation, but this person needed to realize that her actions affected someone else.

Waiting for the phone call was tense. Finally, the phone rang with the awkward plea for me to move my car. She intended a quick trip that lasted longer than anticipated. I said next time...pause...well, you have my number so just call me to let me know. I moved my car; she moved hers and then waited for me to park. She was relieved that I offered my spot, if I wasn't home. Her name is Christine. She may call today or Tuesday if I'm not home to use my parking space.

Only God could have orchestrated justice and redemption in the same day.

A few of my favorite things about today...

I drank cocoa with my breakfast.

I arrived at work on time.

I led some students in a mini-yoga session, including shavasana. One student, who reported being tired before speech therapy, said he felt like he had more energy.

One student said she wanted to be a speech teacher like me, because I'm the nicest teacher.

I was a zombie and an alien while playing with my group of kinders.

I treated myself to a massage after work. I'm so calm; I think I need to make this happen monthly!

I'm about to go to a friend's house for authentic Thai food and fantastic company!

Happy Wednesday to all! I thank God for the many blessings of today!

The doctor said I'm special.

On January 19, I tripped on uneven sidewalk while jogging down 30th Street with a superb friend. The blue brace on my right hand is what I originally bought for my left hand until I received the fabulous black wrist brace close to 2 weeks after I fell.

My x-ray on January 21, showed a crack in my ulnar styloid. Using one hand in addition to the amount of writing and typing I do has caused tendonitis in my right hand (hence the brace for some support).

My follow-up x-ray on February 22 indicated that the crack on my ulnar styloid is still there, indicating the possibility of chronic fracture deformity (what's that??). I received a referral for an orthopedist. The physician's assistant explained that when people typically fall they break the radius bone. He said that I'm special. I did not crack the bone most people break.

I didn't need to crack a bone to know that I don't do what most people do. I've known that my entire life; finally, however, I have come to embrace my atypicality. We all bear different traits of God. We're all special. :)

Be prepared.

Consider yourself warned. Today was amazing. I spent most of my counseling session crying. I had started crying before my session even started. By crying, I mean loud, convulsing, hiccuping sobbing. I made noises so strange that it made me laugh. I read a poem that the Holy Spirit wrote through me and brought tears to my counselor's eyes.

Today was a climax within my journey. God liberated me. I grieved my past experiences and my past coping mechanisms. I began to see the lies I believed as lies. I began to see my pain and acknowledge myself. I finally asked myself what I needed.

Knowing I needed more time to process and to be still before God, I went home instead of attending the youth ministry I serve as one of the leaders. This decision was difficult, as I hate to disappoint people and often serve people at the expense of my own personal needs. (So it was super encouraging to see that God showed up, even though I wasn't there. Hallelujah!) This time I made my decision based upon my needs. So, I went to Twiggs to eat supper--a glimpse of the feast to come when God comes to dwell among us--and to write more about the stirring within me.

My counselor said that Jesus was collecting my tears. I joked that I hoped he turns them into wine. I know He will.

I have been unlocked; I have been released. I don't know what will come. Perhaps, the difference will be subtle. So be prepared. I'm done trying to fit a mold that I'm not meant to fill. I was created in God's image, and I make no apologies. The journey is not yet complete, but you have been warned. :)

A second opinion

Wednesday morning at 6:00 a.m. I fell while jogging. I assume the sidewalk was uneven, and I tripped. I went from upright to sprawled on the sidewalk before I had time to process what happened. I was seriously stunned as I lay on the sidewalk. My knees are scraped and bruised. My pants ripped at my right knee, in which the scrape still requires a band-aid (a Scooby-Doo band-aid, no less). The top of my right forearm is scraped, and I have a bruise by my elbow. The best part? I may have sprained my wrist. The knob-like bone swelled. In time, my wrist continued to swell. Thursday, I realized I should probably go see a doctor. Friday, I got an x-ray, but I will not know the results until Monday.

What advice did I receive from the doctor? His advice shows the stark contrast between the Sensing preference and the Intuitive preference. In case you forgot, I am intuitive. Sensing people (75% of the population) rely upon facts. The doctor told me I should walk or use a stationary bike, because I do not want to fall again. This is practical advice. There's a slightly bitter taste in my mouth as I write practical. I am intuitive; I grasp possibilities. I don't ask why; I ask why not? It is physically possible for me to jog. My wrist hurts not my ankle or any other part of my leg, not even my knees, which are prone to be sensitive. I am physically capable of running, but the law of gravity seems to trump what's possible in a factual world.

I didn't dare tell my doctor that Thursday night I went hiking in the dark not to mention I drank a beer and ate a sandwich 3/4 of the way up. Was I concerned about falling? Of course. Do I let facts guide my life, or my decisions? No. Do I entertain facts while making decisions? Yes, but I value what is possible. Jogging is possible, but I will walk this weekend while rolling my eyes.

If you really knew me...

I started counseling through my church in November. My counselor had me take one of the original versions of the Myers Briggs Personality Test. I filled out a scantron sheet. I am used to administering standardized tests, but it has been about 3 years since I was a participant.

I have already shared my results: Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Perceiving. One percent of the population shares the same combination. 75% of the population is extroverted (25% introverted), 75% of the population is Sensing (25% intuitive), thinking versus feeling and judging versus perceiving is split 50/50.

Last December, my counselor described a student who was an INFP in a class full of students with different personalities. She alluded to the loneliness that the student must have felt. I responded by expressing my desire to figure out which of my students are potential kindred INFPs. My counselor looked at me sternly but not angrily and said, "I was talking about you." I do struggle with loneliness. I think that adds to the difficulties of returning from Haiti. On top of everything I experienced, I went from being surrounded by over 15 wonderful people to living life by myself (with a supportive, loving community). I'm lonely in addition to all of my other struggles.

So, if you really knew me, then you'll realize the following description of INFP from Myers Briggs is eerily accurate.

People with INFP preferences have a great deal of warmth, but may not show it until they know a person well. They keep their warm side inside, like a fur-lined coat. They are very faithful to duties and obligations related to ideas or people they care about. They take a very personal approach to life, judging everything by their inner ideals and personal values.

They stick to their ideals with passionate conviction. Although their inner loyalties and ideals govern their lives, they find these hard to talk about. Their deepest feelings are seldom expressed; their inner tenderness is masked by a quiet reserve.

In everyday matters they are tolerant, open-minded, understanding, flexible, and adaptable. But if their inner loyalties are threatened, they will not given an inch. Except for their work's sake, INFPs have little wish to impress or dominate. The people they prize the most are those who take the time to understand their values and the goals they are working toward.

Their main interest lies in seeing the possibilities beyond what is present, obvious, or known. They are twice as good when working at a job they believe in, since their feeling puts added energy behind their efforts. They want their work to contribute to something that matters to them--human understanding, happiness, or health. They want to have a purpose beyond their paycheck, no matter how big the check. They are perfectionists whenever they care deeply about something.

INFPs are curious about new ideas and tend to have insight and long-range vision. Many are interested in books and language and are likely to have a gift of expression; with talent they may be excellent writers. They can be ingenious and persuasive on the subject of their enthusiasms, which are quiet but deep-rooted. They are often attracted to counseling, teaching, literature, art, science, or psychology. The problem for some INFPs is that they may feel such a contrast between their ideals and their actual accomplishments that they burden themselves with a sense of inadequacy. This can happen even when, objectively, they are being as effective as others. It is important for them to use their intuition to fid ways to express their ideals; otherwise they will keep dreaming of the impossible and accomplish very little. If they find no channel for expressing their ideals, INFPs may become overly sensitive and vulnerable, with dwindling confidence in life and in themselves.

Additionally, Myers Briggs lists 12 adjectives to describe my personality combination: compassionate, gentle, virtuous, adaptable, committed, curious, creative, loyal, devoted, deep, reticent, empathetic. Famous people who were also Intuitive and Feeling include Joan of Arc, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and William Shakespeare. It's no wonder I have always admired Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. It's no wonder I want to change the world. Knowing my personality type helps bring awareness to how I am susceptible to sin and where I need God. My problem is, I have this stupid inner standard of being self-sufficient despite knowing I cannot accomplish such a goal. Hence why I share my brokenness--I need to remind myself that I'm a broken mess. I need to remind myself that I need a Savior. I still try to save myself, and I always feel worse after.

After my dad read the list of 12 adjectives this past year, he described my personality type as "religious." While I do not approve of that word, I do rely on my personal relationship with Jesus. Growing up Catholic, I was told one could only talk to God through a priest. As a child (who not only trusted authority but is also really gullible--I would say "was" gullible, but the people on the FUMC team recently witnessed by gullibility), I never believed that message. I knew I could communicate with God without a priest. At the time, I did not know it was because of Jesus' sacrifice. Recently, I have noticed that I am much more cheerful on mornings I start by reading a chapter in the Bible and writing about it. I just need to figure out how to work in an afternoon devotional, because I'm more likely to take my burden back from Jesus later in the day.

If you really knew me, then you'd know it would be a struggle to express all of this out loud.

But the greatest of these is love

After work today, I went to a local grocery store for a school fundraiser. I helped bag people's groceries. On the way out, people were collecting receipts. I literally just stood there bagging groceries for strangers. People thought I worked there despite wearing street clothes.

One woman gave me a hug after I bagged her groceries. It was a genuine hug, too, not one of those weak hugs.

I think this event was so moving for two reasons. The first is that I'm fascinated that acomplete stranger insisted on giving me a hug for something so common. I used to work at a grocery store; I actually liked bagging groceries. It's my version of puzzles (I hate actual puzzles). Take note I use the word "liked" after not having worked in a grocery store for 5 years.

The second reason is that it caused me to think about how often I hug others in my own life. There are some friends that I do hug every time I see him or her. Yet, in general, I do not hug others very often.

I often remember the movie Crash and the following line: "Graham: It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something" (imdb.com).

The woman who hugged me has no idea how much I appreciated that hug. So, it also makes me think about how I can never be sure the effect of my actions upon another person. I never know what I say will be remembered by my students. I know the phrases I'd like them to remember, but the phrases I consider unimportant may be the very phrases they remember for a lifetime. Of course, I'm assuming I say something important enough to be remembered in the future. Maybe it's not the words that are important but the high fives and the pats on the back.

A day in the life of a Speech Language Pathologist

This picture is from 2 years ago. A student wrote "I love Miss. D." My students steal my heart every day. I am so blessed to see them learn and to see them grow. The classroom teacher sees them every day for a year. I see them 1-2 times a week, but I have been working with some of the same students for 3 years.

Today a student was asking me if I'd rather be in school or have a job. I told him I have the best of both worlds with my job. I get a paycheck but follow a school schedule. But that's not why I love my job.

I have a lot of fun interacting with my students and listening to them. Kids love to talk; I think it's very important that they have an audience, even if it's an audience of one. Being heard is important. I enjoy listening to my students, even if I cannot understand them.

So what do I do all day? I really do play all day in between the paperwork, testing, report writing, and scheduling of meetings (and rescheduling; of 7 scheduled meetings this week, only 4 occurred).

I watched a group of first graders play with toys and describe elaborate scenarios. I listened to them tell me all about transformers and Optimus Prime. I helped a group of second grade students write each step of their soccer trick. I played Uno with a group of third grade boys working on producing their speech sounds spontaneously. I played Guess Who with a 7th grade student. I showed a few yoga poses to a group of 4th and 5th grade boys but found it more effective when one of the students taught the poses.

A student gave me a Tweety silly band.

I worked with a 6th grade student who seemed to be having an off day.

I took orders from a first grade student as he asked me to put the envelope I needed him to give to his mom in his cubby. I laughed as I let him delegate. Perhaps one day he will be a manager or CEO.

I was asked a question to which I didn't know the answer. I wish I could remember the question; this student always has a question.

I watch these students grow, and I pray to God that He uses me to help them.

I run to be

Nike's slogan for their 2010 marathon was "I run to be" with space for each participant to describe why he or she runs. After much contemplation, I finally have an answer. I run to be SOCIAL.

I began running cross country my junior year of high school. Why? I joined the team because most of my friends were on the team. It was another way to hang out with them. The underlying theme responsible for my running is also to burn calories. I love to eat, as evidenced by my many posts about food. While I type, I'm baking pumpkin cookies. The reason I'm able to continue running is because it's a social activity for me.

After high school, I stopped running. I'd go for the occasional jog; sometimes, I'd even jog consistently for 2 weeks. Running was not an activity I could maintain by myself.

For eight years, I essentially stopped running.

Then, I accepted Jesus as my Savior. He really does know our innermost desires. I met Kristen. She started running by herself in April 2009. I invited myself to tag along. She graciously allowed me to crash her morning jog. We have met 2-3 times a week at 6 in the morning to jog or walk or do (pre) prenatal yoga since then. We have welcomed Amy into our morning routine as well. Not only do we have someone else to hold us accountable to get out of bed in the morning to exercise, but we are also able to share our lives with each other. Their counsel has been a crucial part of my life. And now, since Kristen and Amy are both pregnant, I'm able to take mental notes about the joys and quirks of pregnancy, if I should ever need such notes.

In January of this year, Kristen mentioned running a half marathon. It was something we were talking about. Not once did I imagine I'd run 2 half marathons in 2010. I always thought running for 2-3 hours was crazy. I even called it stupid. I would never run that far. I'm learning to remove the word "never" from my vocabulary, so I don't have to say that I was wrong.

Running is part of my routine. Now, I can jog by myself, but I prefer to run with a friend, because I run to be social.

Power bar success

Before I left for San Francisco, I shared my plan to bring enough food for the trip so I could spend my money at retail stores.

I packed at least 16 pumpkin power bars (2 different recipes) and 12 cocoa power balls. I also made 4 peanut butter, pumpkin butter, and jelly sandwiches. I brought 5 apples and home made trail mix. I also brought my own tea bags plus an empty Nalgene bottle.

I spent 2.74 on a tea at a cafe on Sunday to get out of my hotel, warm up after walking in the rain, and to use free internet.

Twice I asked for a cup of hot water (once at Philz coffee--the dude taking my order looked at my like I was crazy).

As you can see in the picture, I visited one of my favorite stores, Lush. I also bought a pair of earrings at Nordstrom's for a penny. Seriously, just one cent is all I gave to the cashier.

All of the restaurants in San Francisco were very tempting. I contemplated treating myself many times, especially at some cupcake store called Cako. But I stuck to my budget. This just means I need to plan another trip to the Bay area and choose restaurants over shopping.