Si-LENT-s

Although I'm not Catholic and have no desire for "high church," I do have many non-Catholic friends who regularly observe Lent. I'd thought about it for the last several years but have always felt that I ought to be sacrificial all year round and didn't like the idea of allowing myself to believe that my work was done at Easter. That's not to say that Lent observers feel or think this way, but only that I would be tempted to if I wasn't careful. Along the same lines, however, I have had a difficult time adjusting to my new grown-up single life in the past 8 months, and my spiritual life has taken a real beating. So this year, after some really hard conversations with good friends, I realized that a scheduled sacrifice to recenter my focus might be just what I needed.

Then came the internal conflict about what to give up. It had to be something tangible that I could feel and experience and miss regularly. It also had to be something I could actually do without for forty days. And it had to be something that would help me find and feel God again.

Finally, after a really late night of tears and trying and trembling, it came to me on my way home. I decided to give up listening to the radio in my car. It met all the criteria. With all of my driving back and forth to Beebe at least twice a week, in addition to the driving that I do around Searcy regularly, I could definitely miss it. But I also felt that I had enough self-control to make it through. I also decided that because I didn't want to sweep my house clean only to have seven more demons return, I needed to pray regularly in the car to replace listening to music. This was how I was going to find God again.

Now comes the confession and report on just how well I've done. First of all, I did stick to it. (And since my revelation came about a week too late to begin on Ash Wednesday, I've still got 3 days left.) Some car rides were harder than others, and I didn't always pray as much as I should. But practicing the self-discipline of Silence has really helped. It's helped me be more self-controlled about my eating habits and more self-disciplined about working out. It's helped me to really appreciate and almost look forward to the quiet times when I can just rest and think. I think it's helped me remember more. When I have more room and time to think, I forget fewer things. But the ultimate test is "Has it really brought me closer to my God?" I really think it has. I think the prayer and quiet time has created a way of life for me that reminds me that God is around. I am much more likely to remember to stop and pray than I was at the first of the year. I'm more content (usually). I'm more comfortable being alone and silent (most of the time).

I don't know what will change next week when I'm allowed to listen to the radio again. I hope it's like when I stopped drinking Cokes for a year and a half. Now I can't stand the taste of a regular soft drink. I hope I won't like it anymore. I hope I at least don't want it on all the time. I hope I'll still be able to remember how precious quiet can be and how calming it can be to not have a thousand different inputs in my one tiny brain.

Regardless, God is good. And I can't explain how it wonderful feels to regularly feel Him with me again. So, if the testimony of a Lent neophyte is worth anything, I'm in favor of yearly sacrifice. It's one step closer to the daily sacrifice we're all called to.

We Remember

My AP class is studying Hitler's propaganda ministry and the Holocaust in conjunction with a reading of Elie Wiesel's autobiography, Night. It's a heartrending story of this 15 year old Jewish boy's survival of Auschwitz. Wiesel is an incredible man. Since being liberated by American troops in 1945, he has written and published 47 books, holds several degrees (some of which are honorary), has taught at Boston University and Yale, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, and at the age of 82 is still alive today, shouting from the rooftops, doing all he can to ensure that the memories of so many dead will live on.

Tomorrow (assuming that the meteorologists are crazy for predicting that the blizzard of the century will arrive just after midnight) my students will watch Oprah's 2006 interview with Wiesel. This is an incredible viewing. They actually visit Auschwitz (which apparently Wiesel does on a regular basis -- Can you imagine?) over 50 years after the fact, and as if the feeling of the place isn't intense enough, he refuses to speak above a whisper in order to respect the dead.

While doing this study along with my kids, I have been moved to tears several times. This is a tragedy of mammoth proportions that no one should ever have the luxury to forget. Here in the midst of my rambling, I'm reminded of Elie Wiesel's declaration that there simply are no words. No words to describe the horror and anger and grief. No words. So here, at the risk of alluding to Thomas Bowden's "This page is left blank for you" at the end of Beebe High School yearbooks, I'm going to leave the rest of this post blank for the memories of the dead and the grief of the living. May those six million descendants of Abraham never be forgotten.

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grown-up (yet single) snow days

I apologize for the lengthy hiatus all of you faithful pickle jar readers have had to endure. I can't promise that this will be the post you've been waiting for, but perhaps it will jump-start a new year of more regular blogging.

So, yesterday was a snow day. Oh, the many joys of being a teacher! It was great to have a day where I got to sleep in and relax and stay in my jimjams all day. But the sadness comes from being a grownup who lives alone. This is another one of those things nobody ever tells you about growing up. Remember snow days when you were a kid? Everybody was super excited because not only did you get to miss school, you also got to go out and play and make snow angels and forts and snow men. And then you'd come back in and slowly strip off those damp layers while your mom made soup for lunch that you got to eat in your jimjams while getting warm. And perhaps, if you were really brave, you would layer back up later in the afternoon and venture out for round two. And I know that it's still fun to do those things as a grown up. It's one of the few times in life where you get to run around and act a fool and everyone thinks it's totally normal. But, like I said, there's a catch that no one ever tells you about. Single Snow Days.
If you're single and live alone and too far away from your family to safely travel home on a snow day, you have no one to go play in the snow with. Which means that it's practically pointless to venture out because you'll just end up feeling more sorry for yourself than you already do. This is when you put on a brave face and do the next best thing. You make yourself a hot cup of tea or cocoa or coffee or whatever your hot drink of choice is and settle into a marathon of book devouring and movie consumption. And, all in all, as long as you don't spend too much time thinking about how your friends are spending their snow days (especially those who have sweet children to play with), you'll make it just fine. And you may even have a midly impressive checklist to show for it.

Here's the tally for yesterday:
3 loads of laundry washed and dried (only 1 folded)
1 + 1/2+ 75 pages of books read
2 1/2 movies watched
1 week of lesson plans finished

And while that really doesn't seem like much now that I write it out, it was a rather enjoyable way to spend my surprise day off. Especially in light of my options.

Hope that you and your families had fantastic snow days and that you only feel appropriately sorry for me in this, my time of self-pity.

Home Improvement and Discontent

I've spent the last two weekends helping my friend Rob shop for furniture. She and her husband have been planning to makeover their living room since they got married in the spring of 2009, but this month, we all finally got around to picking things out. We've agonized over the patterns and fabrics and colors and styles of dozens of different pieces. We've measured and measured again. We've positioned and repositioned things in our minds. We've looked at catalogs and at actual furniture on the showroom floors. We've sat in every single chair and on every single couch and now, we've finally made decisions. All the furniture pieces, positions, and patterns are finally chosen and paid for. In 6-8 weeks, they'll (we'll) have a brand new living room.

I've enjoyed every minute of it. Organizing and arranging all of these things is something that I love. Interior design is one of my many future career ambitions. But the fact that I currently live in my very first single-person apartment, which isn't the most luxurious of living arrangements, means that my style and taste aren't exactly represented by the hodgepodge of hand-me-down furniture and accessories currently in my apartment. I've got lots of plans and ambitions, but my life and my private-school teacher's salary haven't yet allowed me to make the changes I'd like. Needless to say, although I've thoroughly enjoyed living vicariously through Rob and Tracy this fortnight, I can't help but think about all the things I'd like to do in my own place. Here are just a few that are in the front of my mind right now:

1. Buy or make slipcovers for my couch and chair
2. Buy a "gently-used" table and chairs
3. New curtains for the living room
4. New bedding
5. A microwave, since mine decided to quit a couple of weeks ago
6. Buy or inherit some shelves so that my beloved books can finally get out of those boxes and breathe
7. Put some sort of art on the super boring walls

Hopefully, this incredible discontent that I'm feeling will be satisfied soon. Maybe I'll even blog about my efforts in the coming weeks. Keep your eyes peeled for updates.

Logos

I've thought a lot about the truth of God's power in the spoken (and written) word over the past year or so. I intended to write my Senior Seminar paper in exploration of this idea last fall, but my mentor did not think it was a good idea, so I was pushed in another direction. Nevertheless, the idea of logos, our logo-centric faith, and God's power through the logos permeates my thoughts on a regular basis. A good friend and mentor sent me a link to a phenomenal blog post this morning that I could not leave alone. By far the most personal highlight of my first reading was the following statement: The tightly knotted bond between God and language is the secret truth of all writing. Isn't that profound? Not writing more often is one of my continuous regrets, but I allow life to get in the way too often. I love words, and the beauty that can be found through true self-expression is overwhelming. So, when I can't seem to make time to write myself, reading the words of others expressing profound truth is almost as good.

I'm in a difficult place in my life, and I've been trying really hard to see God working in my life to love me and show me what plans he has made for us. To say that I'm not very good at it would be an understatement. However, one of the ways I find God, his power, and his presence in my life regularly is through words. Whether it's through a song, a prayer, a scripture, or a few words from a sweet student, God is powerful and gracious and faithful, and he knows me. Looking for the secret truth in the writing of others is a balm for the secret longings of my heart, and I thank my creator for speaking so tenderly to me during this, my time of wilderness.

Thanks to all of you who allow God to work through you to minister to me as angels.

A week in the life of a first-year English teacher

This week has been pretty crazy so far. I'm surprised by my own ability to miraculously shrug off the embarrassment and stress that have come from certain incidents. Things have happened this week that would usually have meant the end of the world as I knew it, but somehow I've had an attitude that has allowed me to simply laugh at myself. Don't get used to it.

1. I have been in charge of after-school detention this week. That is by no means the end of the world on its own, but when you combine it will all the other things I needed to do, staying for an extra hour after school every day was slightly overwhelming.

Bright Side: I was able to get some work done that I didn't have to take home or stress about the next morning.

2. Tuesday was.........um...........eventful. We only had school for half a day, and most of those 25-minute classes were taken up by school pictures, so the teaching aspect of the day was a complete wash. After the students went home at 12:30, the teachers ate a catered lunch from Pasta Grill, which is a new restaurant in town that I'd been meaning to try. I will definitely be eating there sometime in the near future. The lasagna was excellent, and as it's not my favorite pasta dish, I'm certain that the others must be even better. After lunch, I was able to rest a bit and make a trip to the grocery store to pick up a few snacks for the evening. At 3:00, parents arrived for my first ever Parent/Teacher conferences. I met with 23 parents in 4 hours. While that really isn't many considering the fact that I'm a brand-new teacher, it was still overwhelming. And the sheer business of being at school until 7:00 was exhausting.

Bright Side: The parents were gracious and sweet, and no one was angry with me.

3. Wednesday was the funny day. I'll set the scene: Wednesday is block day, so I only have odd-numbered classes for 1 1/2 hours each, plus 8th period. After my 3rd period planning, I made my way back to my room, where Coach L teaches Bible during 3rd period.
He hung around, talking to a student longer than usual. My students began to arrive and after my hourly trip to the bathroom, I re-entered my classroom to find everyone frantic. I immediately heard a very loud beeping alarm clock, but none of us could find its source. Coach L stayed to help. We even had a student standing on my desk to check the ceiling tiles because someone had placed an alarm clock in the ceiling of another classroom last year. Eventually, Mrs. S from next door and Coach M from the hall had also come to help with the investigation. Coach M pretended not to hear the sound so that the girls in my class would feel that they were going crazy. It worked for a while. Then he told us that he had played a prank and put the alarm in the ceiling. He was, again, joking. Eventually, Mrs. S and Coach M went to their own classes, and Coach L volunteered to get a ladder because we were all sure it must be coming from the ceiling. About the time he left, Dean M, who is my principal and boss, showed up. I'm not sure who told him about the situation, but he came to see what was going on. I was trying to just continue with class, but my efforts were mostly in vain. As I began to teach, or at least to get my students under control and Coach L went for the ladder, Dean M began to search my room. All of a sudden, I looked up, and he had picked up my teacher bag and put it on my desk as if the sound was coming from my bag. The only thing I could think of that might be making that incessant sound was my cell phone that I knew was on silent. Nevertheless, I got it out of my bag to check, and it was silent. Then we heard the noise again, and I discovered what had happened. The button on the side of my phone that adjusts the volume was being pushed inside my bag continually. It had been my cell phone and my fault all along. There's nothing like having your boss be the one to figure out that your cell phone is incessantly beeping and preventing you and others from having class. Still, after apologizing profusely, I was able to laugh it off and continue with what was left of my class. Coach M caught me in the teacher's workroom this morning (Thursday) to ask about what had happened and to share with the other coaches present the embarrassment of my Wednesday.

As if this alarm incident wasn't enough, I was also caught making grammatical mistakes in my Facebook status by my mentor and department chair, Mrs. S.

Additionally, during the Round-Table discussion in my AP class, I was hit by a paper ball that my students had been using to play a game that they thought I didn't know they were playing. The truth is that I was just happy they were actually talking to me and thinking critically.

Bright Spot: After our daily prayer in 5th period, one student told me that our prayers got her through the day. Another student extended her thought by declaring that my class got him through the day. Those are the comments we live for. I can live on that one for months.

4. Today (Thursday) was the day that Mrs. S had planned to come and observe my class to begin preparing me for the Praxis III observation that I will complete in the Spring in order to recieve my offical teaching license. The bad news is that she makes me nervous, even more so than when I had my offical principal's evaluation. So I had been slightly stressed about her coming to visit the class that is composed of the most unfortunate combination of personalities, abitilities, and circumstances imaginable. I'd spent several fruitless hours trying to be sure that I would not embarrass myself, yet again. But she had to leave school early this afternoon and was unable to come. That's a relief for the day, but it means that I'll just be postponing my stress until sometime next week.

Bright Side: I'm beginning to actually enjoy this class of poor, unfortunate misfits.

Top half empty

So, tomorrow is THE day. The last four years have been incredible. I've made my share of complaints, but this is truly the greatest place on earth. Not one time in the next 20 years will I grumble about mailing that student loan check. It has all been worth it, and then some.

This is a feeling that can only be understood by those who have shared this life. This place has become my home. It's where my people are. It's where I've grown up and learned who I am. This place and the people here are what have made me into the person that will walk across that stage tomorrow and turn my boring white tassel. I cannot believe I'm actually here.

I'm excited. I've been waiting to be a real-live grown-up for as long as I can remember. But now that it's finally time, I'm nothing short of terrified. I don't have a job. I don't have a place to live. I'm still as single as I was when I got here. THAT was definitely not in my plan. Because the future, even the immediate future, is so cloudy, I have nothing exciting to look forward to and take my mind off of all that I am losing. I have experienced so many "lasts" in the past few weeks that I can't even begin to write about them.

I feel like I've made it to that awkward place at the top of a half-empty page between chapters. I'm sort of just floating around in white space, having not yet found the first line of the next chapter.

I know I've got to start a brand-new life. I don't know how to do that yet. I don't know how to be in this in-between place. I can't even get into what it felt like to leave Pangburn High School for the last time this afternoon. I've complained about student-teaching there a lot, but the truth is that it was a wonderful experience. I learned so much, and grew to love so many people there. I could not help but fall apart a little on the way home when thinking about how much I love those kids and wondering what in the world I'm supposed to do when I'm not getting up and going to school with them every morning. I sat down after dinner tonight and had time to write this blog because there are no lessons to plan or papers to grade or HUFEOs to complete. I have no idea what to do with myself.

I know that this has all been rather random, but my person is rather unsettled right now. I know that tomorrow is going to be wonderful. My family will be here, and we'll all have a lovely time. Sunday will be fine as well because it'll feel like my usual routine. Monday is going to be the problem. On Monday, I'll have to figure out what it means to be a real person and then at least make a plan to do it. I don't want to give all this up. I don't want to have to do all these hard things. I'm trusting God, but so far, he's been speaking very softly.

I hear that the view from the other side is much nicer. I hear that it's all going to turn out ok, even thought I cannot currently see how I'm ever going to feel like things are "right" again when I can't live at Harding. I hear that I'm prepared and that it's normal to be nervous. I hear that no one is ever ready for the biggest things in life. I am looking forward to the day of great peace when I will finally be able to take those things to heart and really believe them. Until then, I'm going to keep praying, keep searching, keep looking forward, and have an amazing day tomorrow when I find myself surrounded by all of the people who love me the best.