Why I'm no longer friends with Facebook

Last week, I did something drastic. I deactivated my Facebook account. So this week, since I have some time, I thought I'd give an account of why I no longer have an account with what my friend Danielle calls the "Book of Face."

I spend a lot of time on a daily basis talking to teenage girls about who they are in Christ. Last year, I tried writing a book about identity in Christ. And yet, security in the Lord- in my position as His daughter, His servant, His friend- is still a struggle for me.

I'm beginning to see that struggle differently- that much is true. I no longer see the great failures of these past few years with despair- I see them as God's way of doing a necessary surgery on my heart, so that He could expose my craving for man's approval, and ultimately cut it out and replace it with a desire for His approval alone. And God used Facebook to accomplish that painful work. There have been words and images and messages shared over Facebook over the past few years that have caused conflict and pain in my life and have drastically affected my relationships with a handful of people.

Deactivating Facebook is not an effort to run away from those problems. But I have been facing my need for approval, and all of the ugly that has come with it face to face for quite some time now. One of the things that God has done, is help me love and forgive people who have not approved of me. So running away from them isn't really what's going on. But the greater work that God has done it to give me a desire to be who He has called me to be, and do the work that He has called me to do.

I heard a story on the radio the other day about a girl who chose not to look at herself in the mirror for a year. She did this because she struggled so much with seeing herself as a woman of worth and value in the Lord. She saw herself only in comparison with what the world says about beauty. Every time she looked in the mirror, she felt like a failure, like what God had created could not compare with what the world demanded. This is how I feel about Facebook. God has made a lot of progress in my heart over the past few years, but so far I've mostly just identified the struggle. Now it's time to respond to what He has revealed.

I've noticed that I can be having a pretty good day, can be dwelling in contentment with my work, my life- and then I'll go on Facebook- and I see images of everyone else's life in front of my eyes. And I compare. And comparison is the thief of joy. What's bizarre is that the things I see are not necessarily things I desire, but there's something about seeing post after post of everyone's mini-kingdom that brings feelings of frustration and discontent. I feel ugly and unimportant, like the girl did when she looked in the mirror, and the feeling stays until I sign off. Then, I look around, the sun in shining, I have a lesson to plan to write or someone to contact- and I remember that my life is blessed and purposeful after all.

I'm not saying that Facebook is bad in and of itself. It's no worse than that mirror was, but it was something that Satan used as a tool against that girl- to convince her that what God had made was not good enough. And he's making out like a bandit with me and Facebook. I've decided to stop, even though it means that I won't be able to see other people's life updates on a regular basis, and I won't be able to update about mine. But that's just the thing- I honestly feel like Facebook has not helped me really connect with anyone. I've disconnected from a few people because of Facebook interactions, but I don't know that I've actually gotten any closer... some people might have different stories, but this one is mine.

So, bye-bye Facebook- for a while at least. I'm focusing on what God has called me to do and who He has made me to be. I'm going to try to believe, and I mean really and truly believe- what I was writing about last year- that I have value because He loves me. That I am completely forgiven and free from past sins. That I have a purpose, and that no one's status update should make me question that.

Just as a final note- I know that there are some people who use Facebook as a tool to help glorify God and encourage others. I know that some people have used it to encourage me! These opinions are not at all applied to everyone else that I know, but are meant to convey my own weakness and my desire to see the Lord's strength change my life in this area.

Ruth y yo

So the second story from the DR is about Ruth. For the past year, I've been hearing the kids at Hill Country talk about "their kid" in the DR. I didn't understand exactly how it worked out that each kid from HCCSA seemed to have their own individual DR kid, and I didn't really go to the DR expecting to- as the students say- "find a kid." But "find a kid" I did- well, more accurately, she found me.

Monday was our first teaching day at the Makarios school, and I was assigned to the same group that Sierra was in because she, like Azi, was instrumental in getting me to the DR in the first place. Each HCCSA student had prepared a lesson that included a Bible story and a craft based on the Bible story. Since I was not going to teach a lesson, I figured I would just hang back and watch our kiddos do their thing en Espanol.

Days at Makarios start with singing. The PreK classes sing outside in a gazebo-like structure called the "Ranchito." PreK3 stands in one line, PreK4 in another, and they sing at the top of their lungs while their teachers and teacher's aides clap and shake tambourines. The first time I heard the singing, I couldn't sing along because I was choked up about it- I couldn't understand all of the words they were singing, but I could catch words like "El Senor" - Lord, "Palabra de Dios"- Word of God and "Verdad"- Truth, and I knew they were singing praises to God and that just got to me.

I think it was when we were walking from the Ranchito into the PreK3 classroom that Ruth's little hand first grabbed mine- I have no idea why. The Mak kids love us "Gringos" but why she picked me, I do not really know. God knows.

That day we spent in the PreK3 class, I got to see Ruth interact with her classmates. I sat on the floor beside her while she sat in her tiny plastic chair. I helped her glue pieces of colored paper onto a plastic plate to make a "rainbow" based on the story of Noah's ark, and I told her, in my little bit of Spanish, that I could only speak a little bit of Spanish. I tried saying more things and asking more questions, and though it wasn't pretty, Ruth seemed to understand me.

At recess time, I went out and played. It wasn't too long before Ruth asked me for a "caballito"- a piggyback ride, and certainly a Mak school favorite. So I ran around in the heat while Ruth squealed with delight on my shoulders or my back and commanded me to "Corre!" - run!

For the next three days, whenever I was at the Mak school, I hung out with Ruth every chance I got. I would ride her on my back, push her on the swing, and, as much as I could, I would talk to her. I learned that Ruth's best friend was a little girl names Darlin Frid, that she loves to sing, and that she is incredibly smart, and fairly bossy. The most amazing thing to me about Ruth was that the whole time- she could understand me. I still don't really get how that was possible. But I guess that the whole time, I could understand her too. Other kids would come up to me and I couldn't pick up a word they were saying. My only response to them was "No entiendo"- I don't understand. But I very rarely had to say those words to Ruth. The funniest thing of all was when another kid would come up to me and ask a question, and I would hear Ruth telling them that I could only speak a little bit of Spanish. She also would, in a really sweet and helpful way- correct my Spanish from time to time. Like once when we were on the rope swing, I was trying to say which person was at the end of the line for the swing and I used the word "ultimo" for the end of the line and Ruth looked at me and said, "Fin. Es el fin." So I quickly recovered, and called the end of the line "el fin."

When Wednesday came, I was not looking forward to saying good-bye to Ruth. Many of our seniors, who have had relationships with their kiddos for three years now, were teary-eyed from the beginning of the day. But I don't cry easily, and I'd only spent three days- not three years- knowing Ruth, so I in no way anticipated water works.

Ruth came to school Wednesday with these big blue ribbons in her hair- sort of like she looks in the picture above. And I talked to her about how pretty her ribbons were and we played at recess, as per usual. But when it came time for our team to go, people started crying, and the kiddos started getting wary. When Azi sat down in the Ranchito and started crying because he had to say good-bye to one of his kiddos, I explained to Ruth that we were leaving tomorrow and that Azi was "triste"- sad. Ruth picked up on this really quickly, and I could tell she wasn't quite as happy-go-lucky as she had previously been.

Finally, the time came for our group to leave. I got Senora Majcher to come over and explain in better Spanish than I could muster that I had to leave, but that I would hopefully be able to come back one day. Ruth gave me a big, big hug and I carried her back to her classroom. When I put her down, she said, "Te quiero"- I love you- and I said it back. Then I walked out to the bus- still no tears.

But the rest of my team was slow in coming out to the bus. Someone asked where everyone was, so I went back around the corner of the school, and looked in the yard for the rest of my team. As soon as I turned the corner, I saw a practically empty courtyard- empty but for one little girl with blue ribbons in her hair. She literally ran and jumped in my arms, tears falling down her little face. I squeezed her really tight and heard her sweet little voice say in my ear, "Estoy triste"- I am sad. And I said, "yo tambien." - me too. And then there were tears.

That afternoon was the afternoon that Azi and I played in the rain in Chichigua, and on the bus ride home from the village, I thought/prayed about how much I want to improve my Spanish so that I can develop relationships with little people like Ruth. How much I wanted to be able to find out more about her life- who she was, who she wanted to become! But I hadn't been able to. I felt as frustrated at that point as I had the entire trip. I just wanted more of something- relationship, I guess, but I knew I hadn't had enough, and I was "triste" about that.

When we got back to the Mak house, everyone started unwinding and getting ready for dinner. I was upstairs chatting with a group of students, when someone said that Tito- another one of my AP Bio students- needed to talk to me. I thought, "What does Tito want?" but went down to find him. Tito had worked in the Prek3 class Wednesday morning, and had met Ruth. And that afternoon, he and some of the other HCCSA guys were working diligently to pave- yes, pave- the driveway at the Mak house. So when a little girl with blue ribbons in her hair showed up at the gate, he knew who she was, and found out who she was looking for. "Ruth is here," he said, "She came to see you."

I couldn't get around to the gate fast enough. Sure enough, there was my Makarios kid- blue ribbons and a smile. It turned out that she actually lived just up the street from the Makarios house, and attended the public school down the street in the afternoons. (Dominican schools have morning classes and afternoon classes. Ruth goes to Makarios in the morning and public school in the afternoon.) A few students and I walked with Ruth and her cousin, who had accompanied her on her bold visit to the Mak house down to the corner store, where I bought them Cokes. We enjoyed one last conversation, and I got to show her pictures of Gatsby and Daisy and Andy on my phone- something that I had been wanting to do but hadn't gotten around to yet. And just as we were saying good-bye again- this time with smiles- a lovely Dominican woman appeared in the driveway. And in a conversation that I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit- I conversed with this woman- who turned out to be Ruth's mom- in fluent Spanish. She told me that Ruth had come home after school and boo-hood because her American friend was leaving. I told her that Ruth was precious and I had enjoyed meeting her and working at the school. And, again, we just understood everything that needed to be understood at that moment. She smiled, and I smiled and no one was "triste" anymore.

When I walked back toward the house, I thanked God, and I was trembling, not crying. I was overwhelmed by the power of God. The very thing that I had been craving- more relationship- the ability to communicate, to find out more about who Ruth is, what her life is like- not thirty minutes before, God had just graciously given to me. I'm not sure what all of this means. But I know that the incredible tenderness of God's heart appeared at the front gate of the Mak house wearing blue ribbons on Wednesday afternoon.

This morning, I've been re-reading Ephesians 1, and I've been struck by the word, "adopted." Ruth is not an orphan, and I'm so thankful that I can picture her mom's pretty face in my mind as I write this. But I want her to be adopted into the same family that I was adopted into 10 years ago. I want her to be my sister in Christ, and I'm so thankful that I know that as long as Ruth is going to Makarios, she's going to hear and sing and rejoice in the Verdad, and I will be asking that God will open the eyes of her heart so that she will know Him and we will not have to say good-bye to each other one day. And, from that point on, no one will ever again be triste.

Republica Dominicana

Yesterday I returned from the Dominican Republic. I was on a trip with Hill Country Christian School. Hill Country Christian School has a long-term relationship with Makarios International, an organization started by a woman named Sharla Megilligan, who also happens to go to my church. I've heard about Sharla for a long time through the foster care/adoption community at the Austin Stone. She is this beautiful brown-eyed brunette who is also the single mom of twin Haitian boys. Her boys are super cute and a little rambunctious- they're a trio whose hard to miss on Sunday mornings at Kidstuff.

I've heard the story of how Sharla adopted her boys, and I knew she was involved in starting Makarios, but I didn't really understand the work God's doing through Makarios until this week. Makarios is the Greek word for "blessed" and that meaning became abundantly clear during our school trip to Makarios this week.

I'm still not completely clear on how we- Hill Country Christian School- got intertwined with Makarios. But it doesn't really matter. I'm learning about the depths of connectedness within the Body of Christ. People say that the world is small- the community of believers is even smaller. Getting involved in the work God is doing inevitably brings us into contact with other people doing God's work- and we are all intimately connected- almost eerily so.

Here's an example of what I mean. At the Austin Stone, we drink Dominican Joe coffee on Sunday mornings. I've been drinking Dominican Joe for two years. Dominican Joe is an offshoot of Makarios- the proceeds of that coffee go to Makarios International. After a year of drinking that coffee, we got involved in the foster care/ adoption community- where I first heard about Sharla. Then I started working at Hill Country- and found out that they go to the DR every year. Then, to bring things full circle, when I got to Makarios, I met a staff member who was in the Austin Stone storytelling class with me last year, and the host family who lives at the Makarios house- where our group stayed- just moved to the DR from North Carolina, where they attended Colonial Baptist Church- which is where my aunt and uncle currently attend! We are a connected people, amen?

Anyway... getting back to the trip. I went on this trip because of two of my seniors. Even with all of the circumstantial connections to Makarios, I didn't really feel personally connected to the work because I'm a high school teacher and a BSF leader, and those tasks have been so consuming this year that I haven't really been able to think much beyond those two roles. But as a high school teacher, I do things for my students, even when I don't really understand why- and that's why I went to the DR. I have two students in my AP Bio class- I'll call them by their Spanish names in this blog- who really wanted me to go on the trip. Azi and Sierra were insistent that I go on the trip, and asked Senora Majcher, our Spanish 3 teacher, if I could go on the trip, even though I was way behind on the fund-raising and team-building process involved to make this trip happen. She said "yes" to their request and they came into class one day sometime before Thanksgiving and announced, "Mrs. Wermel, you're going to the DR with us." And that was that. God provided the money that I needed almost immediately by allowing Andy to sell his old truck, and by giving friends and family the desire to give financially so that I could go.

But honestly, I was consumed with work- as I have been all year- up until the time we got on the plane last Thursday. I've never had such a stressful school year, and the week before the DR was one of the most stressful and defeating weeks of all. I didn't really understand why I was going. Our students are the ones who are meant to connect with the kids at the Makarios school- and there were plenty of parent chaperones. I was just this random science teacher along for the ride.

But once we got to the DR, God made it pretty clear that my primary role was to tend to the physical and emotional needs of our students while they loved on and connected with the kids at Makarios. There are two words that describe this trip best- relational and emotional. Our school, with all its various strengths and weaknesses- is peculiarly good at relationships. Our students are incredibly relational- and they seek out connectedness with each other and the teachers on staff. It's hard to describe the connection I have with my students. We aren't exactly "friends" because I'm their authority figure, but we are really close, and God just brought us closer together on this trip.

It would take a long time to describe all that God did in the DR, way too long for one blog, so I'll break it down into two stories. One story involves how God used me to minister to one of our students and I'll tell that story here, and the other story is how God allowed me to connect with a precious Dominican little girl named Ruth- and Ruth gets her own blog.

So the story about how God used me to minister to the needs of our HCCSA students is about one of the students who was instrumental in getting me to the DR- Azi. Azi is, if nothing else, persistent. So persistent, in fact, that sometimes I want to throw things at him. I actually have a thin wooden stick- one of those wooden things that you stir paint with- that I keep handy in AP Bio so that I can pop Azi on the top of his head when he's driving me insane. Not hard, of course- the teachers out there will know what I'm talking about. Nonetheless, I love Azi, and he knows that- I'm pretty sure of it.

Azi loves sports- but soccer particularly- and since Texas is a football state and Hill Country is a football school we are the only real soccer players in our little community. So this is one thing that connects us. Azi loves to play soccer in the DR. This was his third trip, and in addition to getting to hang out with some kiddos at the Makarios school who are super important to him- Azi loves playing soccer in one of the Haitian villages that the Mak staff, and our group minister to while we are there.

But on the third day of the trip, Azi hurt his ankle really badly while playing football on the beach in Caberete. He ended up going to the ER when we got back to the Mak house, and the doc there wanted to cast it. He argued his way out of that- persistent, remember- but came home on crutches with his ankle wrapped up and instructions to stay off of it. Well, after about a day of that, persistent Azi went to work trying to talk his way out of staying off his ankle. And was so persistent, in fact, that one night after devotions, his persistency was completely exasperating Senora Majcher and Senorita Inks- our two gracious and amazing Spanish teachers who have both lived in the DR and manage this trip for us. I saw them talking and knew that I needed to step in. So I asked Senora and Senorita if I could talk to Azi alone.

Azi wanted to play, despite his injuries, despite what people were telling him was good for him- and this I completely understood because I am the same way. So I talked to him- not just student to teacher, but player to player, and told him that I knew how he felt. But the truth is, I don't know exactly how he felt. Azi has been through stuff in his life I've never experienced. His life is his own story and his heart is a unique canvas for God to do His work. But on a basic level- a level of wanting to play but needing to submit- I understood where he was coming from. We probably talked for 15 minutes- about Azi's plan for this trip versus God's plan for this trip, about submission, about obedience, about faith. I challenged Azi to stop arguing and submit for 24 hours- to agree to use the crutches, to not try to play injured and to see what God did. In 24 hours, if the ankle looked okay, I agreed to vouch for him to play on our last day in the DR. And Azi, for the most part, did that. He was still persistent, and still "played" the next 24 hours, but played what he called "handicapped soccer" - which was basically a shoot out with his good foot- on crutches. But, for all intents and purposes, Azi submitted- to the Lord, to his leaders. He didn't argue with us more, that I am aware of, and after another 24 hours, his ankle was no longer swollen, and on the last day, we gave him the okay to play.

That last afternoon, I was with him in Chichigua- the Haitian batteye (sugar cane village)- where Azi most loves to play. The "field" there is a bumpy stretch of trash, manure and a little bit of grass. The goals are tall sticks sticking up from the ground. But the players are incredible. They play without shoes on this field of rocks, trash and shreds of sugar cane. They play beautifully. And they beat the mess out of us- winning 15-3. We played for two hours, through the rain, slipping and sliding in the mud and manure and Azi and I both finished the game injured and dirty, but it was as it should have been. After two hours, I sat down on a piece of cinder block and watched Azi as he sat in the middle of the field and cried, his Haitian friend and opponent- Renald- at his side, his arm stretched around Azi. Renald is an amazing player- I'd say he's maybe in his late teens or early twenties and he's played with Azi these three years. It's amazing that, even though an ocean and a language and a socio-economic gap as wide as they get separate them- they are connected in that way that is so difficult to describe.

This morning, as I've unpacked and caught up on the business of life in Austin, I've seen that image of Azi and Renald over and over again in my mind. I read Psalm 113: 5-6 this morning and cannot think of a better description of that moment in time-

"Who can be compared with the Lord our God, who is enthroned on high? Far below him are the heavens and the earth. He stoops to look, and he lifts the poor from the dirt and the needy from the garbage dump. He sets them among princes, even the princes of his people."

We were in a Haitian village a couple of days ago in the DR, and God stooped down and looked. We were in garbage, but we were clean. We were crying, but we were healed. We were among the poor, but we were the ones who recognized our poverty. God lifted a Haitian soccer player up, and set him with one of his princes- Azi, persistent, broken Azi- who is learning, hurting, healing, growing.

When we got to the DR, I didn't really know how God was going to use me. I didn't really expect to see Him move. I was so tired, and wondered why I had committed to do something that would surely exhaust me more when I craved rest. But God refreshed me with His grace, with His far-reaching hand, with His persistent work in my persistent student. How blessed we are, how blessed I am to be a part of His work, a part of His people.

The pictures from this blog are from the Makarios International website. http://makariosinternational.org

The first image is not our team, but you get the idea. Below, Renald is the guy on the left. He makes rings from dominican pesos. I'm wearing one on my right hand as I type this.

I am Southern

I am Southern.

And because I am Southern,

I like to make meals that are not healthy.

I like to say ya'll instead of "you guys."

I like to eat off of my good dishes on Sundays,

and right now I'd trade all of Austin's cool eclectic style to sit on my mom's porch and rock until the sun sets.

The candy and the writing

I did something today that was kind of humbling... I asked a bunch of 8th graders to forgive me. While I sort of hated to (because they're 8th graders and some of their egos don't need even a hint of reason to think they're smarter than me) I also was really looking forward to it.

Back story. Work continues to be stressful (surprise, surprise) and last week included one of the most stressful days I've ever had as a teacher (details not necessary). As the week was tapering down, I met with my 8th grade Biology class on Thursday morning. Our lesson was on mitosis. I like to teach mitosis with candy. Though I have a really cool lab with lots of fun gadgets like a spectrophotometer, centrifuges, gel electrophoresis... when it's time for an introductory lesson, I always tend to gravitate toward candy or play-doh. Really, you can't go wrong when you teach something with candy or play-doh.

Since you're not in 8th grade, and you're not in my Biology class, I don't think it's necessary to explain mitosis to you- just know that the lesson involved candy (six pieces of chewy, sour goodness) and quite a bit of drawing and writing in a lab notebook.

As I am the teacher (and the person who footed the bill for the candy) I assumed that my students would gladly scribble away in their lab notebook because, well, there was candy. I kept saying things that I considered motivating like, "Okay, the faster you write, the sooner you get to eat your candy!" But despite my encouragements, my 8th graders keps grumbling and complaining about the writing they were having to do. They would say things like, "How many more questions are there?" and "Do we have to write all of that?"

After about ten minutes of this, I snapped. As a teacher, I'm not only a fan of candy, I'm also a fan of sarcasm. I said, in a pretty elevated voice, "PLEASE KEEP COMPLAINING! Because I would LOVE to have a reason to take that candy from you, and we will still do all of this writing WITHOUT ANY CANDY!" I have a pretty long fuse most days, so this statement caught my 8th graders off-guard. They shut up and wrote for the rest of class.

So, I got the result that I wanted, but over the weekend, I began to think about this interaction a little more deeply. I don't think the stress I've been feeling lately is isolated to work only. I wrote in an email to a friend a few days ago that I feel like most people I know are swimming in a sea of prosperity, while Andy & I are floating on God's grace. I could go all Suzy Spiritual and say that I like the floating more than the swimming, but I'll be honest, I don't like the grace float. I look around and people have houses, jobs, money, friends, family- and I sometimes feel like Andy and I are scrounging for some of those things. It's not just tangible stuff, though, it's also things like feeling understood, appreciated, and valued. Those intangibles and some obvious tangible blessings seem to have eluded me here and there over the past two years. And I don't like it. I want easy. I want candy. And I don't want the writing.

At church on Sunday, we sang a certain song three times. The song has a line that goes,
"The riches of your love will always be enough." Every time I sang it, I thought, "But I am not really believing this way. I sing these words, but during the day, I want things to go easy." I want Andy to get a job. I want to be able to save up bookoos of money and buy my dream house. I want to move closer to my Momma. I want people to appreciate me for who I am. I want, I want, I want...candy.

This made me realize that I, too, am a student. God, as my Teacher, knows what lesson plan He has for me at this time. And, like me, He has a purpose that's greater than the candy. I don't give candy just because I want my children to be happy- that's nice, but there's no depth, no greater significance than just temporary pleasure. No, I want my children to happy, but more importantly, I want them to be learning. And learning is about more than just candy. It's about candy and all that hand-cramping, whine-inducing writing.

So today, I told my students that I was sorry for losing my patience. But that God has been teaching me about contentment. And that life includes candy- the blessings that God gives us- and writing- the trials through which we experience those blessings. We need both to learn the important lessons about God that He wants to teach us. And God desires (like any good teacher) that we value the lesson and give thanks for the sweetness that comes along with it.

They're 8th graders- so they had forgotten about Thursday all together- but most of them nodded, smiled and we moved on- maybe a little closer together, and hopefully a little closer to our Teacher, than when we started.

Personal Encouragement

Man, it was tough to get back into the groove this week. I'm not just talking about finding it difficult to get back into the routine of waking early, doing my Bible study and getting to work on time. Though the rigors of my "regularly-scheduled" life presented a challenge in and of themselves, there was a deeper struggle at hand.

As I turned the corner into 2012, I gave the past two years of my life a long hard look in the rear view. And the view isn't entirely pretty. There are relationships that are seemingly in ruins- some finished all together, others that dangle like loose ends, unkempt and uncertain. There's a manuscript that is unfinished- a message that I once had great passion for- that, after having lived through the reality of the great need for that message, I find myself struggling to find the spiritual energy to revisit, though I haven't completely given up. There are the finances that have just never fallen into the neat alignment I planned out in my ledger, but, by the grace of God alone, never fall into the depths of debt that would sink us completely. There's the job that demands more of my time than I ever could have realized, and in which I find that, despite my best efforts and 50 hour work weeks, I am always running behind and letting someone down.

Each morning, as Andy drove me to work (our Jeep isn't working right now, so we're down to one car) I struggled with these realities- frustrated and dreading to interact with people and have to come up with new conversations and work and activities when I can hardly process what has already happened. I felt so tired and at such a great depth that there were a few mornings when I felt like I couldn't do it at all. I would have sat in the bed all day, with the curtains pulled and my cell phone off, if I could have. The instinct for survival pushes us through the motions, though, doesn't it? We can go on surviving, even when living, much less thriving is not an option. And that's how this week was for me- it was survival.

In the midst of the trial, I continued in God's word- perhaps out of a need to survive, perhaps out of well-carved discipline. When depression- which seems too simple a way to sum up my emotions over the week- drags me down, I don't think that I can fully engage in God's Word, and this often depresses me even more. But, even in those times, I see God's strength overcome. There always seems to be something, even if it's just one verse, that shines brightly through the encompassing darkness.

And for me, this week, that verse was 1 Samuel 12:23. I have it in mind to try to read through the Bible this year. I'm sure I should have a plan- one of those 2 chapters from New Testament, two chapters from Old Testament, and three verses from Psalms kinda deals- but I hate when plans fail- that makes me feel more like a failure, and I already struggle with feelings of failure enough as it is. So I decided to just read- like reading a story, and see how it goes.

I wanted to start in Samuel- for reasons I might blog about later- and I've read to chapter 12. Verse 23 resonated with me. Samuel, who is at this point a very old man, and who has had to deal with a lot of disappointment, the culmination of which is the people's demand for a king, is reflecting on his life. He knows that he has kept himself pure, even though the people around him have been evil, and, tired as he must be, he continues to rebuke and encourage the people to love the Lord and turn from idols. Samuel- a righteous man amongst an unrighteous people, a man who labored for the Lord and saw few results, a man who must have felt so tired and so tempted to despair when the people did the very thing that the Lord did NOT want them to do- ask for a king. And yet, he says, "As for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you. And I will teach you what is good and right."

I feel like a failure, like a tired-out worker whose efforts are most often overlooked. I can't finish things. I cause relationships to crumble. People around me are falling apart- and so am I a lot of the time. It would be easy to just focus on all of that failure and shortcoming and throw in the towel. But that's not what Samuel did. He looked to the Lord and understood that, no matter what the results were, he was accountable for his prayers for the people God has placed him with, and for teaching them what was good and right.

So I took this to heart, and prayed, though it was a struggle to do so- for my friends, my family, my students this week. Prayer is hard, and it was difficult to dig into prayer when deep down I felt so discouraged, but this bright light from 1 Samuel was what God had given me, so I followed it, as best I could.

Friday came, and that meant our first leader's meeting of the year. I wasn't enthusiastic when I came into the room. I had worked until 11PM the night before, trying to type up quizzes and diffusing a situation with a disgruntled parent. Praying, and teaching the kids what is good and right, during the course of the week seemed so pale in comparison to the weight of responsibility, productivity and conflict. This was on my mind all through our leader's meeting, so as I listened to Holly during her closing talk, my heart had a hard time being convinced that her words were true for me. She was talking about personal encouragement - that God provides times of personal encouragement for his servants, and that when He supplies that encouragement, it is a message straight from His heart to ours. So I wrote down in my notebook, "Look for God's personal encouragement for me today." Though I'll admit to you, I didn't expect to see anything much... maybe a good somg would come on the radio, or I would just survive the day without crying and falling apart at work.

But when I got into the car, I checked my messages and emails from the night before. I had a Facebook message from a former student, one of my Jack Britt kids. The message was about something I had taught her in Biology- she wanted me to know that she still remembers what I taught her, and she said, "You helped me see the BIG picture," and thanked me for being an influence in her life. I cried out thanks and praises to the Lord- with tears- and wouldn't you know it? A great song was on the radio when all of this happened.

Personal encouragement- from His heart to mine- words that brought me back to the reason that I must continue to pray and teach what is good and right- because beyond the failure and the exhaustion, there is a difference that God is making in the lives of teenage students- and He's doing that, by His grace alone, through me.

If you are reading this and feeling discouragement as the new year begins, I hope that you will pray and ask God to give you personal encouragement today. And I hope it stirs and strengthens your heart, as it did mine.

2012

Yesterday, I resolved to write more in 2012. When it comes to the "balance" between writing and teaching, I can't ever seem to get it right. Seems like I'm always doing one more than the other and the absence of one, makes me want the other all the more.

I'm reading Stephen King's new book right now, 11/22/63, and I'm loving it (despite the vulgar language, which you can skip when you're reading, as opposed to movies where you've actually paid money to be sworn at) Anyway... the story line is great, but I do think that one of the reasons I like the book is because the main character is a teacher-turned-writer-turned-back-to-teacher, a position I can relate to, whether I want to accept it about myself or not. Here's a line that sort of speaks for itself... "Those days of (teaching) reacquainted me with a basic fact of my personality: I liked writing, and had discovered I was good at it, but what I loved was teaching. It filled me up in some way I can't explain. Or want to. Explanations are such cheap poetry."

Having said that, teaching is also exhausting- especially when you have five classes, three of which are new preps, and also when you're a perfectionist, and let's face it, almost all good teachers are perfectionists by nature. Those are the reasons that I hardly wrote at all this past fall, and- just as I had missed teaching the year before- oh how I have missed putting my thoughts down through my fingers. So, it is a resolution, then, to write more.

I had a plan to write about places I enjoy going in Austin, and I was going to start yesterday. It was a beautiful day in Austin, a balmy 72 degrees with just a little breeze and not a cloud in the sky. Winter is actually a better time to enjoy the outdoors in Austin than summer. That's my opinion, anyway. Winter is about the only time you can stand in the sunshine without being reduced to a human faucet, sweat gushing from every pore. Last winter, I learned that, though Austin would get bouts of chilly temps here and there, before you can say "brrr" the sixties have moved back into Central Texas, and you can enjoy Austin's great selection of parks, hike and bike trails. One of my favorite places to spend a few hours on such a perfect winter's day is Zilker Park, so it was my plan to go to the park, read, picnic, play ball with Gatsby, snap a few photos and report back to this blog about a perfectly lovely afternoon...

There was a picnic, there was reading, there was sunshine. And there was ball. Too much ball. After probably an hour and a half of going at it hard, my best ball player, Gatsby, started to low crawl. He had a funny look in his eye, and I knew what was about to happen. I said to Andy, "He's not right!" and we both rushed over toward him. Seconds later, his muscles tensed and he began to shake uncontrollably.

Gatsby had his first seizure at the end of the summer. I was home for the afternoon, and we weren't doing anything active- watching an Oprah re-run, in fact. All of a sudden, he tensed and his eyes couldn't focus. He lost control of his bladder, and spent a miserable 90 seconds or so without control of his little body. I prayed through it and talked to him gently. When it was over, he stood up, got his ball and acted like nothing at all had happened.

The seizure yesterday was pretty similar, but in some ways was a little bit "better." First of all, over-exertion can bring on a seizure, so there's an explanation, at least. And I like explanations of that sort- cheap poetry though it may be. Also, he kept control of his bladder and seemed a little more in control of his balance as well. He fell over a couple of times, but corrected himself. Still, it was heart-renching. While Gats is having a seizure, I am very calm, praying, talking to him, asking Abba to help my sweet boy. But after Gatsby regains his composure, I lose mine. I was a ball of nerves and tears yesterday afternoon.

For better or for worse, I think that yesterday's trip to Zilker Park in some ways sums up a reality about New Year that is both sobering and comforting. The sobering reality is that life is never what you plan it to be. We all know that. Even our best laid plans change, and nothing is what we think it's going to be... though we delude ourselves for the first three weeks of each January. But the comforting part is that even in those unexpected changes, God is with us, and His mercy is unfailing.

My Gats is home and resting. He's still having some involuntary muscle/nerve spasms and watching it is making me want to tear up every few minutes or so. Andy and I are watching the Broncos while my collards and black eyed peas simmer. I'll start the fried chicken soon. I'm stressed out about starting school and all of the work to do, and Andy is still looking for a new job. Life is good, unexpected, sorrowful, stressful, and wonderful all at the same time. This year will be what this year will be, I can't control it and there's little that I am able to change. But one thing remains the same- His great mercy, unfailing love and devoted attention to us- all four of us.

I thank Thee for personal mercies,
a measure of health,
preservation of body,
comforts of house and home,
sufficiency of food and clothing,
continuance of mental powers,
my family, their mutual help and support,
the delights of domestic harmony and peace,
the seats now filled that might have been vacant,
my country,
church,
Bible,
faith.
-"Divine Mercies" from The Valley of Vision