a broken toe

2010 isn't off to the greatest of starts. We're not quite three weeks into January, and so far my grandmother has died, I've lost my voice, and I've broken a toe. Not a stellar beginning to say the least.

Last week was pretty awful. I sang at my grandmother's funeral (which is plenty sad all on its own) with a horrible sore throat, and I've been varying degrees of hoarse ever since. Then Tuesday when I could hardly speak at all, I broke my toe at school... during first period, nonetheless. I spent the rest of the week hobbling around AND unable to speak. Lovely.

That's the kind of week that used to send me into a steep downward spiral, but this time it hasn't because despite the difficult things going on in my life, I'm in a much better place now than I was this time last year. It's not that I'm not frustrated because I am. I'm not looking forward to weeks without being able to exercise, and I'm dying to sing again... but neither is the end of the world. The events of my life don't change the hope I have, and although I've heard that for years, this time I can see the application.

I was reminded of that huge change in perspective today at Watermark's 10th Anniversary Celebration. It was essentially a carnival with fair food and pony rides and tons of bounce houses. Super fun! But, the best part was the few minutes in the middle when we stopped to pray and thank God for all he's done. As I sat there looking around the huge crowd, I thought about all the ways I've been impacted by the people and ministries of Watermark over the past 4 1/2 years we've been there. Seeing as how I'm basically unrecognizable as the girl who walked into Lake Highlands four years ago, the list is quite long, and it still grows longer every day. I'm very blessed.

So even though I'm having a rough month, I have much to be thankful for... and a stupid broken toe doesn't have to steal my joy!

one year later

Christmas Eve at Watermark is one of my favorite things. It's the primary reason I fight to have Christmas at my house every year, and I look forward to it for weeks. The service isn't all that different from plenty of others throughout the year, so I'm not sure what makes it so exciting for me. Maybe it's the hot chocolate or going in the middle of the night... whatever it is, I love it.

Last year was different. In the weeks leading up to Christmas I was really questioning my decision to stay at Watermark. After three years, I still felt invisible in the thousands of people, and I truly believed that if I never came back no one would really care. Even though I loved many things about Watermark I felt very alone, and I wasn't sure if the good was enough to balance the loneliness. But, on Christmas Eve I put the dread aside and dragged myself to the service, and that's when everything changed.

I expected a typical service, but rather than only singing happy Christmas carols and lighting candles, we celebrated stories of life change. Not all pretty stories of life change either. Hard, painful, uncomfortable pasts turned into futures filled with life and hope. Real, honest people changed by the birth and death of Christ... the reason Christmas happened. As I read the simple, silent testimonies written on plain brown cardboard I connected and remembered why I belonged, and I haven't questioned it since.

Tomorrow they're doing the same thing. I know because this year I'M one of the cardboard people. A friend on staff asked me last week if I'd be willing to share my story of grace, and although it's way outside of my comfort zone, I said yes. After all, it's silent, so all I had to do was come up with two phrases for my sign (harder than it sounds...) and turn it around on cue. Scary, but totally doable!

The more challenging part has been coming around to the idea that I'm one of "those" people... that I have a story that anyone cares to hear. Luckily I wasn't terribly attached to that belief because it's been shot down repeatedly this week. More than once someone has cried when I told her what my sign will say. I do see that God has done wonderful things in my life in the past few years, and this year especially I've changed a lot. But I didn't see ME as the type of person who God uses to bring others that kind of joy. Well, I didn't see myself as the type of person God used to bring any kind of joy but certainly not joy so powerful it produces tears.

Anyway, even though it's pretty unlike me, I'm super excited about tomorrow. I get to tell people what God has done in MY life. Thousands of people (that part's a little scary!). And someone will read my words and connect just like I did last year... because God can bring good from my bad. Great reason to ignore the fear!

the list

Yesterday I went to lunch with a friend. (That's the kind of simple sentence I'd tell my kids not to write, but luckily, I don't have a teacher on my back!) I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't the outcome I got: a challenging discussion about some of my biggest weaknesses and assignments to report back on. Yes, she gave me homework.

So because I'm me, and I do what people ask, I got started. Part one was pretty easy: make a list of the things God has done in my life this year. I definitely had plenty to say! 2009 has been difficult in many ways, but it's also been amazing. I've learned so much about who God is and who that makes me, and I've been blessed in more ways than I could ever deserve. Although I wouldn't have said it along the way, this has been a fabulous year.

Part two was quite a bit harder: share the list... with more than one person. I REALLY didn't want to do that part, but then I got an email link to her reflections on her year and absolutely loved reading what she'd written... then decided that maybe I should stop hiding and share some of what God has done in my life.

Which leads to... my list (most of it anyway)!

1. He gave me new friends in my Thursday night Bible study at a time when I was feeling really alone. My small group rocks, and I'm excited to start our second year together!

2. He gave me the courage to trust them with my story and proved me wrong when they weren't scared away by my past and continued to love and encourage me.

3. He used my story and gifts to influence another woman in that group and encourage her to pursue recovery.

4. He taught me about the true meaning of joy and helped me begin to recognize my lack of trust in Him and how that impacts my life daily.

5. He blessed me with my 5:30 Rocks girls (and grown-up friends!) who've taught me more than I possibly could have taught them. I finally found my place at Watermark.

6. He moved me out of my kindergarten comfort zone into a job where I have the emotional reserves left to face some of my deeper hurts and gave me the peace I needed to make it through the transition.

7. He perfectly orchestrated the series of events (over the past four years) that led to a precious little boy being in my homeroom this year where he knows he's wanted, and I can love and encourage him daily.

8. He gave me grace and wisdom as I wrestled with my beliefs about His goodness and character and surrounded me with people who were willing to push me forward and speak truth into that struggle. It hurt at the time, but now I'm infinitely more secure in what I believe and why I believe it. It's real rather than just being the words I always said.

9. He helped me search deep into my heart and gave me the strength and courage to begin to face the hurts I'd hidden so deeply even I couldn't see them anymore.

10. He brought me through the fall without falling into my typical deep depression. Super exciting!!!

11. He taught me about the power of memorizing scripture to combat my anxiety- being transformed by the renewing of my mind. :-)

12. He used Haley to be the tangible representation of His grace that I'm always asking for... the person I can't push away and whose love I will never be able to "earn."

13. He's showing me that I can trust Him and trust myself and don't have to seek validation from others.

14. He's continuing to move my focus and priorities more toward His own and away from my obsession with body image and performance.

15. He's helping me to daily accept that He designed me perfectly to bring Him joy, loves me unconditionally just the way I am, and can be trusted to always do what's best for me, even if it doesn't feel like it at the time. When I really stop to think about the magnitude of that truth, I always end up crying. He loves ME.

It's been a good year. I almost doubt that 2010 can compete...

reframing

Over the past few weeks, I've had lots of free time, so I decided to spend some time reading a blog I previously read only occasionally... The Happiness Project.

This idea of creating happiness is pretty foreign to me, but one suggestion in particular intrigued me: reframing your thoughts about things you dislike. I'm VERY familiar with that concept, although I'd never used it in quite that way, so I decided to give it a shot. As it turns out, reframing has actually worked pretty well when it comes to mundane chores. I despise cleaning, but telling myself that I enjoy it does give me a better attitude (an attitude that's kept our house clean for almost a month). It's working far less well in improving my attitude about work. Perhaps that's a sign...

I've been amazed how much this one small thing has influenced my day to day life. Reframing my attitude about cleaning has resulted in a much cleaner, more ordered house without the same level of frustration I used to feel. Having a consistently clean and at least somewhat organized house calms my anxiety more than I ever imagined, and less anxiety makes the rest of life SO much easier. Of course, we'll see how long this lasts. I've never been one to actually stick with chores.

Anyhow, back to school tomorrow, and I'm dreading it as always... gotta find a way to reframe that thought more successfully (at least until June!).

high school, part two

In the past two months since I've posted, I've started several times only to realize that I couldn't finish. School has been a struggle as always, and the more I'm faced with writing for my class, the less I want to write in real life. I spend hours perfecting pieces on topics I never wanted to write about because the things I DO want to write about aren't age appropriate for nine year olds. By the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit down to write. I will say though, I now have an even greater appreciation for how miserable it is to revise and edit a paper you don't like.

Fall is always the hardest time of year for me. At my old campus October was when the first benchmark scores came back, inevitably lower than hoped, and the intense pressure to perform kicked in. At my current school October tends to be when I give up all hope of ever fitting in. This week I hit that wall, and after spending several days beating myself up for still not having a place, I realized something. The traits I value most in myself as a teacher: diligence, intelligence, perseverance, honesty... these are the traits least valued in this school. It's sort of like being in high school. The quality of your work matters far less than your look and personality (bubbly being best, of course).

My last school was incredibly difficult to work in. The clientele was challenging to say the least, and the pressure to raise scores was constant and almost suffocating. However, I knew that the quality of my work mattered more than anything else. Yes, if I'd behaved inappropriately that would have been a problem, but value wasn't placed on being super outgoing and silly. Value was placed on the quality of my instruction and the success of my students. What a novel idea!

Tomorrow is Monday, and I will have to walk back into school for another week. I'm not looking forward to it. Many, many people fit there and love it, but I'm not one of them. I bet they're the same people who spend their high school reunions reminiscing about their glory days and wishing they could go back...

one week down (almost)

Today was the 4th day of school, and all in all, this week hasn't been that bad. In fact, it's been the easiest first week of school ever. As it turns out, teaching kindergarten made my job far more exhausting than I realized. Compared to that, 4th grade is a breeze.

So since I'm settling in, I read the book Scaredy Squirrel to three of my classes today. I wish I had a copy at home because it's one of my absolute favorite books. The main character is a neurotic squirrel who's afraid of all sorts of absurd things. Green martians for instance. He's so terrified that he never leaves his tree. Retelling the story doesn't do it justice though... it's hilarious.

I love reading this book because I am SO like Scaredy Squirrel. He stays in his tree with his same nuts and same view because when he's there, life is predictable. If he ventured into "The Unknown" (a.k.a. the forest), he might run into green martians, after all. Totally rational. Yet, this is how I often do life. I convince myself that the unknown is so incredibly frightening that I end up missing out on things that would have been really cool. The sad part is that this is the brave version of me... I used to be completely paralyzed by my fear. Now it's just a pretty major annoyance.

This week's adventure into the unknown has turned out a lot better than I expected. To be fair, there have been hard parts. My teammates are nice, but getting to know them has still been difficult for me (and will continue to be I'm sure). It's also been really hard watching my old friends still working together while I'm no longer a part. I still worry that I won't be good at this, although I worry much less than I did before Monday. Most of what I feared has actually happened, but nothing has happened to the extreme extent that I imagined. Hard, yes. Impossible, no.

I don't know how the rest of the year will go. While I am enjoying the maturity of nine year olds, I know I will end up missing things about my babies. It's a trade off. Big kids are far less emotionally draining because they don't need me every minute of every day, but they also don't curl up in my lap while I read. They can reason and understand my sarcastic humor, but they don't tackle me in the hall because they miss me SO MUCH that they just cannot function (yes, that happens pretty regularly). I watch the first graders walking in the hall and wonder what it will feel like next year when I don't know them, but that will have to wait for later.

For now, I'm trying to appreciate the fact that nothing horrible is happening in The Unknown today... those green martians are pretty dangerous, after all.

starting over... again

Today is the last day of summer.

For a variety of reasons, I'm dreading the first day of work. I think that's relatively normal (it takes a special person to WANT to go back to work after vacation), but for me it's a little out of the ordinary. Usually by the end of the summer I've gotten excited, so for the past couple of weeks I've waited for the excitement to kick in. It didn't happen at my late summer trainings. It didn't happen when I started preparing my room or when I saw my friends. I'm down to less than a day... it still hasn't happened. It isn't going to, and this morning I finally realized why: if I made a list of things I like, not a single one would apply here. I like consistency and familiarity and knowing the answers. As of tomorrow, I'll have none of those things. Like a kindergartner on the first day of school, I'm starting from scratch.

I've made a lot of changes over my six years of teaching, but in every instance, there was one safe thing about school for me to grab on to... in recent years, being an expert in the kinder curriculum. This year there's nothing. Even if I like it, there's basically no chance I'll actually be good at teaching 4th grade the first year. It took three years in kindergarten before I really felt competent, and that was an age group I had experience with. My teammates may be the best ever, but I still have to get through the awkward beginning of three new relationships (perhaps the thing I hate most in the world). Everyone says I'll love 4th grade, and I may... but right now it's all a giant unknown.

So, this morning I was asked if it was possible to be joyful in the midst of the uncertainty. The obvious correct answer is yes. In reality, it's very difficult. The one definition that's stuck with me out of all the character traits I've taught this year was the one for joy: the overflow of peace that comes from trusting God. Joy inevitably comes back to trust. Do I trust that God's plan is best? Yes. 100%. The problem is that whether or not it's ultimately best, I've come to associate God's plan for my life with misery. That doesn't exactly breed joy.

Is this an opportunity for growth? Yes, a great one I'm sure. A push out of my comfort zone into what will undoubtedly be a more challenging job. A chance to relinquish some of the control I so desperately grasp for and accept that God will always be the only constant in my life. I see no way around growth. But what has happened the last ten times I've had an opportunity for growth? Something incredibly painful... broken relationships, difficult realizations about myself, loneliness. The final outcome has always been in some way healing and rewarding, but the road is rough. How do I look at a year that, in many ways, will certainly be painful and still feel joy?

I don't know the answer. Well, I can't quote plenty of applicable verses, but I don't know what that looks like in my life. I guess I get to start growing now though because the only thought that's getting me through the day is that God doesn't change. No matter how alone or confused or out of control I feel, what I know of Him and His character will always be the same.

This year He's the one thing left to grab on to.