God certainly does know how to nourish the soul.
After my lunch work meeting, I was not motivated to pull my last group of the day. I decided to get my group anyway; after all, they'd notice if I did not get them for group.
What a blessing the group was.
One of my students was not feeling well. It was very clear from his behavior. He was quiet and calm. This student is typically a ball of energy, usually spinning or bouncing from place to place while talking incessantly. He's one of my favorites. How can you not when three years ago, he said /kr/ instead of /tr/ so the first grade leprechaun traps were called "craps." It's not very often I legitimately get to write the word "crap" in my report.
Anyway, with one student down and my lack of motivation, the two students sat on the couch while I pulled up a chair.
The other student is a very sweet girl that I've known for almost a year. She is kind, friendly, and curious with the right amount of sass. She began asking questions about how rain comes from clouds and stars. She asked about shooting stars and making wishes.
Then she told me, "If I could wish on a shooting star, I'd wish to come with you every day."
Heart melted.
This also positively reinforces me to get my groups of students regardless of motivation level.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
A glimpse of divine intervention
Today in my special day class kindergarten class, I was working with one of the students in the teacher's group. This student is one of my favorites. A sweet little guy with big brown eyes. He has a medical diagnosis of being on the Autism Spectrum Disorder. He loves acorns/pinecones and Scrat from the Ice Age. He uses his own name when talking about himself (the nuance of "my name" and "your name" with appropriate references, but I'm merely speculating).
He finished drawing the four pictures for the lesson; I pushed for him to write the words, too. I wrote the words; it was his job to trace them.
I believed he could do it. He was not a fan. It was an unexpected burst of spontaneous language from an otherwise string of lines from movies or quotes from his family (again, speculation). He initially began with a quote from his family, "Be patient." "Just wait." But then, the firework show began.
He told myself and the teacher that he was sad, using the pronoun "he" instead of "I." He then drew a sad face on his paper. He had already finished 2 of the 4 words. The teacher and I both admitted to being about to cry. I mean not only is he communicating spontaneously and actually on topic, but he's then telling us he's sad. My stubborn streak has a cold heart, so I encouraged him to finish the last two and then he could have his toys. I think he actually wanted to draw a spider on the back of his paper. He agreed. After he finished, the teacher asked him if he was happy and asked him to draw a happy face. He did. Then he independently drew a surprised face. The teacher asked him to draw a scared face. They were decent pictures for a 5 year old.
It was just incredible to hear him tell us how he was feeling other than "I'm tired."
The teacher commented, "It was like the heavens opened up." Yes, indeed, God showed His mighty hand. He is truly our student's teacher and will never stop despite passing to the next grade or moving to a different school.
The teacher also wished she had been recording it to show his mom.
If only I could capture the excitement of spontaneous communication between two teachers and a student with words. But why try to capture something that's etched into my heart?
He finished drawing the four pictures for the lesson; I pushed for him to write the words, too. I wrote the words; it was his job to trace them.
I believed he could do it. He was not a fan. It was an unexpected burst of spontaneous language from an otherwise string of lines from movies or quotes from his family (again, speculation). He initially began with a quote from his family, "Be patient." "Just wait." But then, the firework show began.
He told myself and the teacher that he was sad, using the pronoun "he" instead of "I." He then drew a sad face on his paper. He had already finished 2 of the 4 words. The teacher and I both admitted to being about to cry. I mean not only is he communicating spontaneously and actually on topic, but he's then telling us he's sad. My stubborn streak has a cold heart, so I encouraged him to finish the last two and then he could have his toys. I think he actually wanted to draw a spider on the back of his paper. He agreed. After he finished, the teacher asked him if he was happy and asked him to draw a happy face. He did. Then he independently drew a surprised face. The teacher asked him to draw a scared face. They were decent pictures for a 5 year old.
It was just incredible to hear him tell us how he was feeling other than "I'm tired."
The teacher commented, "It was like the heavens opened up." Yes, indeed, God showed His mighty hand. He is truly our student's teacher and will never stop despite passing to the next grade or moving to a different school.
The teacher also wished she had been recording it to show his mom.
If only I could capture the excitement of spontaneous communication between two teachers and a student with words. But why try to capture something that's etched into my heart?
Monday, February 6, 2012
Lean on Me
Let me explain a typical day for me.
I wake up early in the morning; typically I awake saddened: the usual waking up alone blues plus, the I-don't-want-to-get-out-of-my-warm-nest-of-a-bed feeling that always causes me to hit snooze at least once. The combination typically keeps me in bed for close to 30 minutes.
I do my best to psych myself up for the day. I pray and share my feelings. On a good day, I ask for His mercy. On a really sad day, I cry in the shower and plead with Him to carry me throughout the day. Honestly, though, I need Him to carry me through every day.
I eat breakfast, which is one of my favorite meals of the day. I eat while checking e-mail and Facebook. I scrounge for motivation to finish getting ready for work.
Once at work, I do enjoy my job.
On any given day, I'm receiving hugs, giving high fives, coaching students to produce this sound or that, playing Go Fish or Apples to Apples, Jr, playing Simon Says, reminding students to say the "is" in "She is running" or reminding them to say "she" instead of "her." Just as a few examples. Or if I'm in the special day class kindergarten (SDC) class, I am reminding students to sit down or to stay on task. For some reason, the students in the SDC kinder class really like my hair. At least three students have told me so explicitly on different days, and one boy likes to stare at the top of my head. Anyway, the SDC class can be quite intense. These students are learning how to be in school. If they don't want to do something, why wouldn't they run around the room knocking things over? Let alone the times they choose to yell at or hit adults in the room. Not to mention when they run around the room, they think it's a game. My day wears me out more than I readily admit to myself.
It is very clear at work that I am completely dependent upon God to serve the students with whom I work.
While at home after work, I stumble while tired. I begin to believe lies from the enemy. I try to deny that there's an enemy. I am tired of seeing the pain of the world. I want God to come NOW and fix everything. I want my ideals to be reality. I do not want any more tears or suffering for anybody.
The longer I wait the more doubt creeps in, the more I start to believe my doubt.
I become paralyzed and no longer want to complete life's daily chores or do fun things like playing Michael Jackson experience on my Wii. I typically try to numb myself to my feelings. I feel so much throughout the day: joy, fatigue, frustration, etc. I don't feel like wrestling with God about fixing everything.
But that numbness leads to condemnation and shame. Yuck, yuck, yuck.
Jesus, the good Shepherd that He is, seeks me out. Every time. He is gracious and merciful. His love draws me back.
So, you see, my day is a roller coaster of emotions. Alive, joyful in Christ or dead in despair.
On Saturday, I had a day that was mostly alive in Christ. I knew I could easily slip into despair, so I brewed a cup of chai tea and headed to Sunset Cliffs for a date with God. The picture in this post was taken during my date. I was blessed with some sweet journal time rooted in Truth.
While jogging/walking after work, I heard Linkin Park's "Shadow of the day." One line whispered to my soul, "and the sun will set for you." Yes, indeed, the sun sets for me while I reflect with gratitude upon the mercies extended from Christ; the sun rises every morning with new mercies. I mean that sunset was the artistry of God: gold, orange, and yellow illuminating the clouds with pink steamers to the north of the sunset. Behind me was the moon with stars gradually emerging. The ocean was translucent sapphires, blown glass rippling. It was stunning. Just like God.
God's beauty is created for all of us to enjoy. How incredible? No wonder people feel "spiritual" when in nature. It's God's handiwork.
Needless to say, I was touched. Hands up enjoying the roller coaster.
But then I came to a sharp turn that jammed my arm into the door. As I walked closer to home, I passed a gas station. Two men were yelling at each other, arguing over whose turn it was, I assume. They were in each others' faces and dropping f-bombs. I literally shed a few tears while I prayed. Jesus, these men need you. Please give them peace. Please reconcile this. You see, I feel those emotions deeply. I feel the sadness of our pain, the consequences of sin in this world. And I'm sad to think about my actions hurt others. It's a painful world, and my compassion is a gift that is difficult to carry.
I try to look toward Jesus as an example. Can you imagine how He felt walking through the streets of Jerusalem? So many people followed Him. So many people in pain who needed healing. Yet, through communion with His Father, He went to those whom He was told to help. He was not called to meet every single person. He did not go rogue and start healing everyone He met. No, He submitted to His Father's plan, even when it included His own sacrificial death. And even on the cross, He forgave us who nailed Him to that cross.
Father forgive us; we know not what we do, to each other, to ourselves, and to You.
I am reminded of a quote by Plato: "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle." Lets help each other as we ride the roller coaster. Jesus knows we need the support from a community. Think of Aaron and Hur holding up the arms of Moses. Moses needed the help of his friends, and so do I. So do you. How can I help you? How can we help each other?
Jesus and Rihanna
I just have to blog about this, because every time I hear "We found love" by Rihanna I think of Jesus. Whether you want to know or not, I'm going to divulge my reasoning.
She talks about finding love in a hopeless place. I assume she means a romantic love. Despite whatever romantic scenario you conjure up of feeling like no one will ever love you and that's when you find love, I want you to really think about that.
A hopeless place.
Have you felt hopeless? Have you walked around in a hopeless place?
I have. It's not pretty nor pleasant. Hopeless. Condemned. Ashamed. The lowest of lows.
That is not where I want to find a romantic love.
But, Rihanna is right. There is love in a hopeless place. Jesus.
Jesus, meets us where we are, whether hopeless, confused, or rebellious. He does not wait for us to slip and fall nor does he wait for us to walk a tightrope of good deeds. He will follow us as we stray to that hopeless place and deliver us for it. He loosens the chains of hopelessness and liberates us.
He is the bridge between God and human.
Because without Jesus, we are hopeless. Without Jesus we are sinners deserving of death. So God sent His Son to live a perfect life and die for our sins on the cross. Jesus not only died, but He accepted the punishment of our sins. He was separated from God. Oh but after three long days He rose again. He is reunited with the Father. He reigns, but He is a generous King. He gracefully shares His inheritance, entrance into the kingdom of God, with us, whom He calls friend and sibling.
Yes, there is One love in our hopeless places. He is the way, the truth, and the light. He is the beacon of Hope.
He is the only love I want to experience in the hopeless catacombs of my mind.
She talks about finding love in a hopeless place. I assume she means a romantic love. Despite whatever romantic scenario you conjure up of feeling like no one will ever love you and that's when you find love, I want you to really think about that.
A hopeless place.
Have you felt hopeless? Have you walked around in a hopeless place?
I have. It's not pretty nor pleasant. Hopeless. Condemned. Ashamed. The lowest of lows.
That is not where I want to find a romantic love.
But, Rihanna is right. There is love in a hopeless place. Jesus.
Jesus, meets us where we are, whether hopeless, confused, or rebellious. He does not wait for us to slip and fall nor does he wait for us to walk a tightrope of good deeds. He will follow us as we stray to that hopeless place and deliver us for it. He loosens the chains of hopelessness and liberates us.
He is the bridge between God and human.
Because without Jesus, we are hopeless. Without Jesus we are sinners deserving of death. So God sent His Son to live a perfect life and die for our sins on the cross. Jesus not only died, but He accepted the punishment of our sins. He was separated from God. Oh but after three long days He rose again. He is reunited with the Father. He reigns, but He is a generous King. He gracefully shares His inheritance, entrance into the kingdom of God, with us, whom He calls friend and sibling.
Yes, there is One love in our hopeless places. He is the way, the truth, and the light. He is the beacon of Hope.
He is the only love I want to experience in the hopeless catacombs of my mind.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Problems simplified
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
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.
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.
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