It's Jesus

One of my dearest friends and I would laugh when we began handling situations more adult-like and chalk it up to our thirties.  And really, once I closed the door on my twenties, I became much more comfortable in my own skin.  Much more confident in my ability to make decisions, and really just genuinely happy with my own life. I became more introspective, while being able to stand up for my beliefs.  I became a little less of a doormat and more of an advocate for my own children, for my classroom full of children, and for myself. 

This Sunday, I made the trip south to visit with my family.  I sat in a pew among some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  The salt of the earth as my high school principal would say of the natives of my little hometown: population 1700.  The pastor discussed something my church's pastor had recently, and while not the jest of either of the sermons, something that really hit home for me was maybe it wasn't being thirty (and some change) that has changed me.  It's Jesus.

Perhaps growing up in my faith took me 30+ years.  I'll be honest, my seven year old has taught me more about unshakable faith than most adults.  But, really knowing Jesus, being more faithful in prayer, working really hard to instill in our three babies a devout love for the Lord, that's what's changed.  

I typically have a worship song that hits home with each current season of life, and right now, my girls and I are totally belting out Hillsong United's "Who You Say I Am."  Maybe it is a mixture of both wisdom with age and being grounded in Christ, but overall, the reason I am able to be more confident, optimistic, hopeful, grateful...It's Jesus. I want to be that person He says I am.

Making the Back to School Rush a Little Easier... Part 1

I keep a big family calendar in our kitchen and write important dates and events on it to keep everyone informed.  Five schedules are tough to keep up with and this makes it a little easier.  However, that calendar is glaring at me like flashing neon reminding me it is nearly August.

It is not that I dread going back to work.  I absolutely love my job.  I do, however, try really hard to keep it all in balance.  After all, I have 18 years with these kids in my house and only 1 with my students.  I have to make all that time count. This year is a little different.  We are asking my girls to do something I never had to do.  They are starting a brand new school.  To soften the blow, I'm going to too, but all the same, CHANGE IS HARD.

So while my friends have been posting about what they are planning for their students (and I do have plans for my nearly fifty 5th graders that I get to teach language arts & social studies to), today I wanted to share something that I'm doing for the littles that share my last name. If anyone knows tired, it is mothers to little babies and teachers in August/September (and May too, but that's another story). Now, thankfully, I have survived those newborn days, but I am anticipating a huge crash in a couple weeks. I've been praying for some guidance and wisdom on how to handle this.  I've been praying over my sleeping six and seven year olds nightly that they make new friends and love their new school as much as I already do.

Today at church, I had a little free time on my hands as we finished this month's lesson a little early in the storytime room, and I asked what I could do to help the prep team.  In that room I helped prepare some things for our rising kinder babies.  As I was helping, I realized that prepping in this way could help me so much.  A few years ago I did freezer meals before school started (I'll share a few recipes when I get to that point this summer) and that was amazing.  This prep though, is JUST for my girls.

While the girls went out with their daddy, I worked on some lunch box notes for their lunches.  I STINK at this after like day 2, and wanted a way to send a little sunshine in their lunches or snack since they are at a new place with new people. I'll print these on cardstock, cut them, pop them in the kitchen drawer and boom, there they are ready to pack.  These were still prepared with just as much love (I really carefully picked fonts and quotes especially for my babies), and there's tons on Pinterest for the future when I'm truly tired.

Here's a little sampling of the very simple lunchbox love for Rea and A.

Hopefully it'll make the back to school craziness a little less crazy for all 3 of us.  I'm not a perfect teacher or a perfect momma.  In fact, I've said many times that my position, my job, I'm completely replaceable.  They will find a capable and able and amazing teacher to fill my position.  But I'm the only mother my girls have and right now my focus is on their new school year.  They've seen (and will see) me work really hard.  I want them to know I think they are worth me working hard for too. 

Oh no, Joe!

The past month we've been following the story of Joseph with our preschoolers at church.  As a storytelling volunteer, I get the opportunity to really reiterate the bottom line for our tiniest friends.  A lot of times, these stories are warm and familiar, like Joseph and his coat of many colors. Praying that I get the point to our little guests, I always try to brush up on these stories at some point throughout the week.  Many times in my Christian walk, I think back to these truths from the Bible and get too comfortable with the story, missing that bottom line myself.

So, each week in May we followed Joseph.  He went from being highly favored by his father to being sold into slavery by his jealous brothers.  "Oh no, Joe!" my little friends would echo clasping their hands at their cheeks like Kevin McCallister (Home Alone).  I'm such a people pleaser in my everyday life, that sometimes I don't understand why my best efforts end up with me feeling like I'm being thrown in a hole.  Like the truth I wanted my littles to understand this month though, God always has a plan.

He won over Potiphar, his master, and Joseph continued to live as God would want him to.  However, living according to God's law meant that Joseph lost favor with Potiphar.  And again, Joseph found himself in unfortunate circumstances.  He was thrown into prison.  "Oh no, Joe!" In prison, Joseph was put in charge of the other prisoners.  One of these prisoners was the Pharaoh's baker.  When the baker returned to the Pharaoh's charge, he eventually mentioned to the Pharaoh that Joseph could help interpret dreams.  The Pharaoh had had a dream that Joseph helped him understand and in turn, helped Egypt prepare for a famine. 

Eventually those brothers traveled to help their family acquire grain.  Their family had not been prepared for the famine and needed the grain in order to survive.  Joseph recognized and forgave his brothers. All because he was patient and believed that God had a plan for him, Joseph was able to forgive and be reunited with his family.

Sure, I'm sure most of us have heard Joseph's story.  But thinking about how he trusted God in these times is impressive.  Over the past month, I've watched my friends trust God, even in such adversity that I'm sure I'd question my faith. The grownups in our house have been making some changes and decisions for our family, and while relatively we've remained unmarked and unharmed, they are scary nonetheless. I worry so much about if we are doing right by Brent and the girls.  I want so badly for all the pieces to neatly fall into place, but in this world, rarely is it that simple or easy.  I know that.  I want to trust God's perfect plan.  I also want to have it all sketched out in my to do list.  Those things contradict each other.

One of my sweet friends told me she wanted to pray specifically for me, my small group, without me saying a word, included me in their prayers.  It's not that I don't covet those prayers, but asking for someone to pray for me is something I find hard.  Not because of pride, but because I worry that will seem selfish.  There are other people who are climbing mountains compared to my little molehill.  But you know, I think that part of this journey has been for me to learn that it's okay for me to let someone else think of me.  I worry all the time that I'm not selfless enough.  There was a time in my life where I was not selfless at all.  I guess I'm trying to make up for that.  I don't need to.  Jesus paid that price for me.  So, to survive this busy time right now, I'm just going to be a little more like my friend, Joe.  God's got this, so I don't have to.

#realisthenewperfect

I guess I was born trying to be perfect.  It wasn't something my parents pushed on me.  They didn't have to.  I wanted to be the fastest, the smartest, the friendliest.  I'll admit when my A- in my high school calculus class bumped me from being my class's salutatorian, I might have cried a little.  They already made me write my speech. Or when I came up a few seconds short in the regional cross country meet from making all region, I might have been a little more than rationally bummed out. Coastal running is my thing though!  After they redrew the conferences and we ended up in the western region, I never came close.  At those moments, I learned that perfection isn't always obtainable.  I tore my ACL my senior year playing soccer on a team that had a losing record, but I still had a lot of things going for me.  I accepted a pretty prestigious teaching scholarship to attend my mom's Alma mater and I wasn’t scarred from graduating third in my class after a tragedy took the life of one of my closest friends just a week before graduation.

I joke with people that when I graduated college that I was convinced that I was going to change the world. It’s not that I don’t think teachers cannot change the world, but that picture that I had created in my mind was not what my classroom was like at all.  That first year, I might have danced the Soulja Boy but I also had a desk thrown at me.  I might have helped kiddos really learn to read and multiply, but they still didn’t reach proficiency. I did want to quit.  But I didn’t.  Not without a lot of encouragement from coworkers, family, and friends, I survived that first year and I had an amazing second year to follow.  All those real events were not perfection, but they are some of the building blocks that made me the person I am today.

Because of real life happenings, I realized that picture perfect flawlessness doesn’t really exist. People exist, love exists, but there’s a lot of things out there outside the realm of my control.  When I had these babies, I decided that I really was going to go more with the flow… especially when the second one arrived exactly thirteen and a half months after her older sister.  Real was the way to go.

Even so, there are days that I feel like I fail.  I fail my girls.  I fail my students.  Luckily, my husband has NEVER expected me to be perfect and reminds me constantly that I am the only person in the world holding me to these crazy standards.  That said, I want so badly to help everyone do well.  I want to be a valuable part of a team and on days where I’m my harshest critic, I just feel anything but.

I say all this to say, mommas, if you feel like your kids are getting less than your best, they aren’t.  My girls haven’t stopped crawling on me and kissing on since we got home.  One is literally laying across me right now. They do not care that I fed them fast food for dinner and they love telling me all about their days.  They aren’t keeping score with their friends’ moms that packed them bento box perfect lunches or made them the best 100th day of school project.  And teachers, you are changing the world.  One hug, fist bump, high five at a time.  I tell my students they ARE NOT numbers on papers, but you know what, teachers, YOU ARE NOT either.  While I hold myself to perhaps unreachable expectations, I have to realize how far we’ve come since day 1, and some of that distance cannot be measured by Lexile and percentages.

I’m giving myself this pep talk, but I bet I’m not the only person out there that needs the reminder that real is the new perfect.  You can photoshop every blemish and filter out all your imperfections, but at the end of the day they real, the actual, that’s what makes memories, that’s what makes the difference. Don't be too hard on yourself.