Poem for April 9, 2012

(title) A void

I ache for something more than what I find in a store.
I ache for something less than the pain in my chest.

I yearn to burn the fears expressed as tears as they sear my heart:
Tattooed-black and blue.

My beating heart wants a meeting with God.
Impatient, I let idols win,
Capturing my attention
The rupture of innocence
Lost in the crowd
Seen by the Son of God
My Savior--a brave warrior
Nailed to a cross
Bail for my sins
Mercy for my heresy
Grace for when I want to hide my face.

Yes, I ache for something more and God won't give me anything less than Himself.

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. :)

From the mouths of babes

I cannot believe I forget this gem of a conversation yesterday.

During group, one of my rambunctious, resilient optimist first grade students sat in my chair. Being as my skills are planning ahead, I had to leave my table to get something. I don't even remember what it was.

Anyway, while I was up, my student sat in my chair. He has a sense of humor, so I told him to move, adding that next time I will sit on him.

His articulation is not the clearest, but he definitely asked if I would fart on him if I sat on him.

I burst out laughing simultaneously assuring him I would not fart on him and that his comment was inappropriate. I'm fairly certain the message was lost in my smile.

Wishing on a shooting star

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.

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?