Types of Tears

Admittedly, I am not very girlie.  But the one girlie trait I have in abundance are strong emotions.  Last week was one of those weeks where I had to classify my tears otherwise I would have been a blubbering fool. 

Monday marked the celebration of life for my Aunt Sharon.  Growing up, Aunt Sharon was the aunt I heard about but never really got to see.  She lived in Florida so no matter what I heard about her I always thought she was really exotic and cool.  I remember the Christmas she sent my sister and I rings.  Mine was an opal.  It was beautiful and even today when I see an opal I think about that really amazing gift.  (I really wish I hadn't lost it at an Augustana basketball game three years later.)

The types of tears shed at the funeral were those of sadness.  Sadness not because I had lost someone close to me but because my grandma has buried all of her children and her husband.  Sadness because of the brokenness in Aunt Sharon's life

Later that day I shed a different type of tear.  Tears of pride and astonishment.  Monday also was Elijah's kindergarten graduation.  As I sat in the bleachers thinking about how quickly the year passed and how soon 2024 will be here, I shed a few tears.  I also cannot believe how much Elijah has learned this year.  The boy can read!  And he is quite good at math as well.  He still proclaims that art and gym are his favorites though.

Elijah and his class waiting their turn to "graduate".

Then Wednesday came.  My last day teaching.  I am really at peace with staying home and am excited for that adventure.  But, I did shed a tear.  I received a card from a friend and the following was inside, "It will be gloomy without you.  That's what happens when the sunshine goes away." I guess you never know the effect you have on others.  My tears were those of thankfulness; thankfulness for having shared and hopefully ministering to my fellow teachers for the past two years.; thankfulness for the blessing of getting to stay home with my boys; thankfulness for the great friends that God brought to me.

Word Power

"Do you operate as though your words disappear or as though God remembers each one of them?"  Pastor Anderson posed this question in October and it has been ruminating in my mind and heart ever since.  The Bible passage for that Sunday was Matthew 12:33-37 where Jesus warns his followers that they will be accountable for every careless word.  The words we speak are a direct line to our hearts.

Man!  Two very real things strike me about this.  One, as a teacher, mother, wife, and friend I need to think before I speak.  Something my mother tried really hard to teach me when I was younger.  I am notorious for spewing forth whatever comes to mind and it has gotten me into heaps of trouble.  Like, this week, when the vice principal came to ask me about a comment I had made to a student.  One that probably should have been left in my head.  I was able to rectify the situation with both him and the student but I was left kicking myself.

Two, our words have great power.  My BFF, 5cent, was talking to me about a situation her daughter encountered with a coach.  The careless words of the coach had left her daughter devastated, physically ill and stressed to the max.  I have seen the flip side of this as well.  A well placed encouraging word can be a powerful tool.

So, do you operate as though your words disappear or as though God remembers each one of them?  Indeed, the pen is mightier than the sword.

Helen of Troy and the Best Hair Day Ever

I hate my hair.  I have always hated my hair.  It is just curly enough to be frizzy but not curly enough to be cute.  All through college I struggled to find "the cut".  You know, the one cut that would make me look salon beautiful every day.  I still haven't found that cut.

I have tried nearly every potion, tool, concoction under the sun to try to tame my frizz.  A few years ago I was introduced to a hair straightener.  The lady at the salon made my hair smooth and straight, just what I have always wanted.  When I got home, it was a different story.  For some reason my $9.99 straightener did not create the same effect.  Being the cheapskate that I am I was sure that a more expensive straightener was not the solution.  That is until I tried my friend Jill's straightener.  Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships, gave me hair that would launch a few ships (at least one for sure).  I had the best hair day ever (seriously, I'm not kidding, even Chris noticed).  So, this week my dear friend Jill went on a Helen of Troy hair straightener mission for me and yesterday it came in the mail.  Here are the results.  

What do you think?  

The Flip Side

As news of my career change has gotten out I have heard over and again how difficult it will be. Trust me, I do not suffer from any illusions that being the kind of mom God is shaping me into will be easy. I also am prepared for the "Oh" answer to the "What do you do?" question. The truth is I suffered under a far worse glare the past 6 years.

Nothing cuts to a mother's heart; to her confidence as a mother; to her very core like the glare and judgement of a stay at home mom when, in the midst of a conversation they make the assumption, "You do stay home don't you?" Or, once you have two children, "You must be staying home now that you are so busy."

So, if I can survive that I think my ego, confidence, and whatever else happened to be showing is scarred enough to handle the flip side

My identity is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ. I gave up looking for validation from strangers and friends long ago.

Death of a Passion

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a teacher. It started when I was a youngster. I was blessed enough to have a great aunt who was a teacher and she graciously shared her old teachers manuals. I remember using them to teach my stuffed animals and imaginary students. I felt like I was holding the holy grail when I held the book with all the answers. Once I hit high school I knew English and literature was my strong suit; certainly not anything with numbers. While I tried to deny my calling to be a teacher for a while, I entered my first classroom at the age of 25 and hadn't thought twice about it.

Until last year. Last year I had this terrible, nagging notion that I was not doing the right thing. And the passion and love I had for teaching began to die. I didn't really notice it at first and brushed it off as "first year frenzy". But that terrible, nagging notion just would not leave. All these questions swirled in my head at night when I wished to be sleeping.

"Who are you letting raise your kids?"

"Are you giving your family the best of you or are they getting the leftovers?"

"What does God really want you to do?"

And the passion and love for teaching I had continued to die. Only, I still failed to recognize it as such. But God has a way of making us see His way whether we like it or not. This school year has been the hardest I have had ever in all my years of teaching and part of the reason it is hard is because my passion died. I no longer have a passion to teach really cool lessons to puberty ridden teens.

But where there is death, God brings new life. A new passion is rising up in me, one I never thought possible. A passion to mother my kids like I never have before. I have always assumed I could do both:teach and be a wife and mother. What I have come to realize is that I couldn't. I have been giving my family the leftovers when they deserve the feast. And feast they shall for starting May 18 I begin to raise my boys and love my husband with undivided attention.

Because, who wouldn't want to be with this much adorableness all day?