Get Out of Your Own Way

It's been a busy season for our family.  Just the every day has seemed busy.  And I'll be the first to say, I love a schedule, a calendar, and things to embrace our time.  Meaningful events, hopefully, and not being busy for the sake of being busy. 

Over the summer the girls and I were lucky enough to get the chance to serve the elderly through a project at our church.  We visited a local nursing home and the girls met residents and created art with them.  Seeing these seniors smile and engage with the youngsters from our church was nothing less than heartwarming.  After several sessions, the church held an art gala at the nursing home for the residents and the families from our church to attend.  The day of the gala my oldest daughter was in a particularly and uncharacteristic grumpy mood.  She didn't want to participate and wanted to cling behind my back.  I pulled her to the side tucked my arm around her little waist and whispered, "sweetie, sometimes you have get out of your own way and do what's right for those around you.  These residents are happy you, especially you, are here.  God would want you to celebrate with them."  Reluctantly, she went over to a resident who she had crafted with and smiled when she reached out for a hug.  Later she told me she was glad she was able to look outside of herself and make room for others (in much simpler, sweeter terms).

As soon as those words popped out of my mouth "get out of your own way," I knew I've been guilty of not doing this.  I think back to when I made a grade level move that I didn't want.  I'm ashamed now of how selfishly I acted.  Thankfully, I was able to look beyond me, and see in the faces of six year olds, why I was where I was.  I wish, though, I had been able to do that initially.  It would have saved me a lot of uncomfortable emotions.  Or maybe the time, I stood silent at a memorial service, when I wanted to speak.  I ended up using this blog to share the words I still wish I could have shared that day.  There are lessons we pass to our littles that are often lessons we are still learning.  Learning to get out of my own way is one of those lessons.

What about the times, I did decide let go and let God?  Well, I was able to enjoy a pregnancy after a horrible scare.  I am able to share the Bible and sing and dance with toddlers and preschoolers on Sundays.  We live and work in a community where we've been welcomed with open arms.  I've made some of my best adult friends through church, work, scouts, and through the children that once sat in my classroom.  My life is so much better for the times I got out of my own way.

What's holding you back?  Is it you?  Is there something God is leading your towards that you are standing still on?  My hope for this new {school} year is that I'm able to see beyond myself ... for the little ones I tuck in each night, and the eighteen I get for 180 days.  We get one chance to do this life.  I want to do it right.

Not Enough

A few weeks ago I talked with my little pals at church about sharing--sharing even when we don't feel we have enough.  I had packed a bottle of oil & flour for the kids to see the story come to life and as I brought home these items, I couldn't help but think of the times where I have felt like I don't have enough.

We've all heard you cannot pour from an empty cup, and if you haven't, take those words to heart. But what about when your cup is only a quarter full? Or you just have enough for one aspect of your life (teacher friends, you get this, right?).  What do we do then?

I think back just a year ago.  It was January and my colleague across the hall popped in during specials time to me all but sobbing at my kidney table.  Luckily, not only a colleague but the dearest of friends, she understood, closed my door and let me regain my composure within my planning period.  You see, at this point I felt I had nothing left to give.  My school babies were struggling.  They were NOT going to reach proficiency (and there was nothing short of a miracle I could do to get them there). My baby was struggling.  Her little reading assessment running man was in the yellow, and I felt I was failing her.  My oldest daughter had just had head lice and my whole house was bagged and washed and I tore a muscle in my shoulder from standing over her for hours going through every strand of hair.  I was completely floundering.  I had NOTHING left to give anyone.... but yet somehow, I did.  I kept my PTA position running, my class GREW tremendously (even if that didn't mean they passed), lice came and went, and my baby was back on track by the end of the year. I gleaned as much from the preschool lessons I taught at church (as I still do), and God worked through my devotions, time with my small group, and built my weary heart back up through small successes that moved mountains.

I often wonder how people without faith live without it.  After the rough winter, my husband and I sat down and reevaluated our goals.  When we got married, our plan was to not stay in our home and we always wanted to move closer to our families.  This was detoured by babies and a poor housing market. We decided to trust that if God wanted this to happen, we were going to do our part.  We listed our house in April, had multiple offers the first week on the market, and were lucky enough to sign paperwork that same week.  Three kids and a staged house while working full time was not in the cards for long--thank goodness.  I anxiously awaited the final puzzle piece of our move after we closed on our new house in June.  And somehow, I ended up finding a job just a five minute drive from home. My little reader has read over 150 books to me since September. We all have a little more time together within our four walls and outside of the brick and mortar of the school building or running here and there and everywhere in the minivan.  Because I'm the new girl, I have a few fewer responsibilities at work (much to the celebration of my family), which has allowed me time to start a running club, really focus on my fifth graders, and find a better balance between work and home.  Sometimes a fresh start isn't the scariest of things after all.

After a time I felt not enough, I look back and realize that somehow I was.  Not because of me, but because of blind faith and admitting that I was on empty. Somehow something even greater was in the cards for us.  Today Anna's teacher bragged on her reading.  She's come so far in just a quick year. If you had told me a year ago that I'd be sitting in the living room of a new home, with my children happily adjusted and enthusiastic about school, I might have wanted to believe you.  I might have thought that sounded like only a farfetched dream. But tonight it's not.  It's a real blessing.

Like the widow trusted God and Elijah's request for the oil & flour to be made into bread, even when she didn't have enough, He still takes that not enough and makes it plenty.  When I felt like I couldn't possibly handle one more blow, somehow we weathered the storm and came out with even more than I could have imagined.  Not every day is perfect, there are still days I feel defeated, but I've learned to appreciate the journey with a little more focus on Him and a lot less on me.

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.

Being Third

In today's culture, winning is best.  In the words of Ricky Bobby, "If you aren't first, you're last." I started a Bible study co-written by two lovely teachers (who happen to reside in NC!) last week and it couldn't have hit more on time for my teacher, momma, wife, fallible heart. I sat and prayed over the scriptures I read carrying away one big idea that has made an impact on my life. Right now. Something I've discussed with my littles.  Something that we are working hard to implement as our family: Being third.  {By the way... you can check out this amazing Bible Study here: http://bonniekathryn.com/bible-study-sign/}

Tonight, I spent like 2 hours making dinner.  Only one of my family members ate it.  Only one other even tried it (it was NOT bad, but I have not so adventurous eaters---a grown man included). I got up from the table, choked back tears and left.  Ya'll, I got in my minivan and left. I'm 32 years old.  I'm not sure why stupid stuff hurts my heart, but it does. And then I remembered this line I highlighted: Faithfulness does not depend on the actions and behaviors of others (or something like that).  I did what I should have (maybe I should have picked something different to prepare), and despite the fact that over half of my family ate microwavable popcorn for dinner, it didn't really matter.  In the grand scheme of things it was fine.  I really didn't have to cry in the parking lot of the Food Lion, even though at that moment in time, it felt like I should.  I know this is a stupid story to share, but for me it's important to realize and admit my shortcomings.  My love language is words of affirmation.  So, hearing "yuck" and "I don't even want to try it" after putting forth quite a bit of effort into today's meal just crushed me.  Knowing that about myself, and knowing my family like I do, I pretty much set myself up for tonight's dinner fiasco.

What does this have to do with being third?  Who is really before me? This week's lightbox message has been a lit up reminder to our household:

This is SO hard.  I think back to my 1990s self with those trendy WWJD bracelets.  There have been a lot of times in my life where  I did NOT do what Jesus would have wanted me to do.  Even today, it's hard to be pure in mind and actions all the time.  We are human.  I wish we had more of this.  Wish my kids acted differently.  Wished I could eat anything I wanted and my metabolism would keep up.  I don't always want to let others go first.  Maybe even that dinner was more to my tastes than my families.  Maybe, deep down, I was thinking of my preferences before theirs.

This being third has also been a theme in our current church series "One Another." {You can catch this sermon series here: http://subsplash.com/thesummitchurch/s/cfb7ceb/  If you don't have a home church and want somewhere to worship on Sundays, you are more than welcome to join us ANYTIME!} In this series, we've discussed how our walk with Christ isn't alone, it's interconnected with others.  Other followers and other nonbelievers, and how our actions can show others Jesus' love. I'm not the best at voicing my faith aloud (I'd much rather just type it out...), but if my actions show His love, those actions speak louder than any words ever could.  Do I have to travel to Africa on missions? Do I have to organize volunteer efforts in our community? Do I have to teach at a Christian school? No.... even those are all wonderful ways to serve our God.  I need to live third. I need to carry the burdens, forgive, submit, honor, be kind, and genuinely love others just as Jesus did.

So, while this little lightbox message won't make it's way to my classroom this year (at least in black and white and lights), it's stamped on my heart. Jesus. Others. Self. In the words of Rachel Henley, "If you aren't third, you probably aren't doing it right."