Scripture and a Snapshot: Flint and Diamond

Since Christmas, I've been reading Ezekiel.

Hard words for hard times.

Ezekiel breaks my heart and troubles my spirit and calls me to pray.

I don't take it lightly.

That being said, I am not playing fast and loose with scripture here. 

 I recognize the ramifications of this verse for Ezekiel, that God is preparing him for one tough assignment.

While I don't consider my assignment to be equivalent in the truest way,

 Ezekiel 3:9 still speaks to me as I prepare to go back to school as both teacher and student.

Not gonna lie--this year's group is one of those groups.  

The ones that come along every few years and make all teachers question their callings and lament society in general. 

 Individually, some are sweet, but collectively, they are trying. 

 Add to them some graduate school courses that look like doozies and my stomach sinks. 

When all is said and done, I want to have been obedient, even if I can't see the results.  

So I am asking for flint and diamond, 

a "forehead" stronger than their disinterest, 

an impenetrable wall to keep out discouragement, a shield for the battle,

I'm moving forward, after all.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here and here and here and here.

The God of Present Tenses

Long time, no blog.

The pace of life accelerated out of control around here in July, with gardens and graduates taking the bulk of the hours.

In August, I sent my baby away to college, started my Master's degree (hello, college tuition), and landed in one of the most challenging professional situations I've ever found myself.

There has been insomnia.

There have been tears.

There has been the stupor that only comes when overwork and under-rest collide. 

Oh, and did I mention I am working a retreat team this fall as well?

As my laundry list of responsibilities grew (including laundry, which sits in untouched mounds awaiting action), my mother questioned my participation on this team.

It was tempting to free a night in the crowded calendar, but God said no, and I listened.

This past week, He did a bit more speaking.

It started in the worship, when the Comforter reached into weary places and did His thing.

Then the speaker reminded us that God's name is I AM.

Not I Was or I Will Be.

He is the God of present tenses, in my NOW, because He is unbound by time. 

In every season, He is there.

The past belongs under His blood; the future in His hands alone.

My present tense: morning mist on the pond

Truth be told, nostalgia had taken over, 

a wistfulness for the days when my girls were little, 

and I was a SAHM, 

and, as it always does when viewed backwards, 

life seemed simpler.  

In a school year when I am not at all sure I will survive until May, 

that simplicity (or, at least, those problems) taunted me.

So, in the quiet of that room, the Lord reminded me that I am in my now, 

and He is, too.

He is here, 

in a middle-aged woman attempting to return to college mode for a few semesters.

He is here, 

with a mama launching one from the nest with fear and trembling.

He is here, 

in a classroom with insurmountable issues further complicated by educational bureaucracy.

He is here. Holy, holy.

He is here. Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Linking here.

The Day a Writing Prompt Called Me Out as a Liar

Today, when looking over some potential lessons for next school year, I ran across the old advice, "Write when your students write, and share your writer's notebook with them".
Right up there with "sleep when your baby sleeps," this is probably wise but practically difficult.
So I tried a test run of sorts.
I decided to write a "mentor text" of a personal essay prompt to inspire next year's budding writers.
It was standard stuff, an introductory essay to tell them a bit about my family, my preferences, my goals.

And y'all, it was hard.

Hard for lots of reasons.
Hard because writer's block shows up every spring with the same regularity as allergies.
Hard because I could hear myself rambling.
Hard because I can't share anything meaningful about myself without sharing Jesus, and that must be carefully navigated in public school.

As a teacher, I believe this practice will help me in the long run.
It will probably make me more empathetic--which is important to remember when the powers-that-be seem to think all children-of-the-square-peg variety can be jammed through the same round hole-of-testing if only
their teacher is differentiating/summarizing/reteaching/tap-dancing enough.

As just me, I think this practice will help me, too.

A few months ago, I confessed to a friend that I felt God might be leading me to write down what He was teaching me in John.
She laughed, and said, "Of course."
A few days ago, I confessed to this same friend that I was feeling ill with insecurity--that I didn't know how to begin.
She said, "Good!  I'm praying you stay insecure so that you always know He is your source."

She's a very good friend, and a very good pray-er.

To paraphrase one of those Pinterest-y inspirational signs, here I go confidently in the direction of my insecurity.
(Or insecurely in the direction of my confidence?  That might be a better way to say it.)
Maybe in the meantime, I'll share my writer's notebook with you.
Following,
Ginger

Mighty and Mundane

The Dreaded Triumvirate: February, March, and April.

Imagine you're slogging through a snowstorm, icy wind in your face, drifts in your path.  Then suddenly you step off the edge of a cliff into a raging waterfall.  You tumble downward, grasping for anything to slow your fall.  You're drowning in the rapids.  ( That's state testing, if you're lost in the melodramatic metaphor. )

Then, just as you catch your breath and think you might breathe again,  you discover you're trapped in a whirlpool.  ( That's May and endess days of post-planning.)

Hyperbole aside, we're halfway through the worst stretch of the school year--

the point in the year where I--and consequently, this blog--get boring and lame.

I could wax eloquent about standardized testing,

or complain about students,

or bemoan life surrounded by teenagers in the throes of hormonal meltdowns.

I could talk about birthdays and flourless chocolate cakes and dinners with friends.

How about endless winter or meatloaf recipes?

I could write about John's gospel, and Christ's deity, and Living Water, and the untroubled heart.

Mighty and mundane side by side, juxtaposed in my year-older brain.

And it's March.

Following,

Ginger

Linking at Three-Word Wednesday

Down Here

Hey!

It's me.

Can you see me?

I'm down here, waving.

I'm the fingers you see poking up from a pile of projects and vocabulary tests and novel quizzes and test-prep assignments.

Source

Since this isn't a teacher blog, I don't think you care about the ends and outs (some of it very cool, some of it dull but necessary), 

so I'll just say that I'll be back when I come up for air.

What's on your to-do list?

Following,

Ginger

Belong to the Day

Since the day after Christmas, I've been in 1 Thessalonians.

A manuel for ministry, if there ever was one.

This morning, 1 Thessalonians 5 called out one word: light.

We're to be sons and daughter of light, characterized by light,

full of hope, full of self-control.

We belong to the day.

As I look out my windows at the first snowfall of the winter and secretly wish, on this last Friday of Christmas break, that it had fallen next week when we go back to school, I realize that I need to be light.

Though I'd love to stay cocooned in my house, there is darkness where, for this season, I am called to be light,

to belong to the day.

In 1 Thessalonians, it's striking how often Paul says, "Follow our example.  Do as we did to you," and I wonder, really, if I can ever in good conscience tell someone to do as I do, to be as I am.

I want to be characterized by light, living the hope I believe.

Belong to the day.

Following,

Ginger

Gratitude List: Little Things that Add Up

Jumping right in because there are 28 writer's notebooks awaiting my attention: (I'm not counting the 75 other still at school; there's only so much I can carry home.):

35. DD#1 okay  (Moms of Teenage Drivers need free therapy--not.kidding.)

36. golden sunrise through copper leaves

37. sunset (yes, I like those, too) bordered by the black silhouettes of mountains

38. peppermint mocha

39. a colleague okay after a serious heart attack

40. It. is. Friday.  That is all.

41. lost exercise routine almost redeemed by Friday afternoon grocery routine--hooray for Saturday at home!

42. when the Holy Spirit illuminates the Word

43. awesome teaching ideas to steal borrow

44. a few pounds gone

45. apple season

46. clean laundry

47. lying in my warm bed while the wind howls around the house

48. a vehicle that works

49. an unexpected, spontaneous hug from a student when he finally got a positive behavior report 

(This was a moment I needed to see this kid as a broken-hearted boy--not a just a punk. Truth.)

50. new wine--in a new wineskin

What's on your list today?

Following,

Ginger

Day 21: An Open Letter to My Student

Dear Student,

  Just so you know,  I really do believe what I do is important.  It does matter, in the long run, that you can string five words together into a logical, grammatically-correct thought;

 it's a skill that's infinitely satisfying and useful. 

 I think the books we read together are worth your time.

 I want you to hear the elegant language, laugh in all the right places, think deep thoughts about theme.

  Don't tell anyone,

 but it's my sneaky way to interject 

 some things about life and people and sorrow and hope

 that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember one day.

   But here's what I know

 every day.

  I know that you need a lot more than a book and an expository essay to make it through life.

I know that lots of things about your life stink, that you have no good reason to trust adults,

 that you desparately want boundaries, even if you pretend you don't.

I know that all the character ed, "positive interventions", and success awards in the world won't heal your heart,

give you purpose,

save your life.

Every day I know that I can give you commas and sentence structures and vocabulary words,

 but I can't give you the One you need.

You don't need another anti-bullying campaign or cyber-manners course.

You need Jesus,

just like I need Jesus.

What I can do is pray for you.

When I grade your paper or monitor the hallway,

 or even when I wish the bell would ring (and you do, too),

 I can lift you up before my Father, 

and ask that His mercy, grace, and love

 become your greatest life lessons.

(signed)

Your Teacher

Favorite Fall Mantel

Now that September is nearly over, I'm finally here to show you my favorite fall mantel evah, my accidental school-themed mantel.  It was a bit like the best of lesson plans, uninspired at the outset but ending with an ah-ha! moment that makes the whole thing work.

It begins with a few pencils and books and the antique chalkboard that appears here regularly.  

There it sat until I hit the jackpot in my basement, where my rummaging around unearthed class pictures from my mother's college and teaching days. 

 Strung from a twine and miniature clothespins, they added the perfect vintage touch.  

Don't they all look spiffy?  

They look considerably more pulled together than I do on my best days.

I love it when my favorite vintage looks are also meaningful.

I wish my mom could see it, though if she's anything like me, she won't remember anyone's name.  

(I have trouble with kids I taught last year; sixty years later isn't looking hopeful!)

Be blessed,

Ginger

Pebbles and Boulders

Some days are full of pebbles-

a myriad of small, stinging pains,

any one of them minor,

together an onslaught that flings dirt in the eyes, 

draws tears,

leaves a thousand tiny bruises.

Then there are boulder seasons-

breathtaking, crushing things 

too large for my finite mind,

blocking the view,

impeding progress.

These are boulder days.

Church issues.

A friend's heart and home shattered by infidelity.

Administrative changes in our school district.

A senior and a freshman.

Students in darkness breaking the surface as anger 

and kids in darkness masked by a pleasant demeanor.

Amid the boulders,

I cry out to Jesus--

to be salt and light,

gentle, winsome, truthful, faithful--

but mostly just for Him.

Do not tremble, do not be afraid.

    Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago?

You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me?

    No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.

Isaiah 44:8

15 Seconds

By the end of the first day, 

both principals,

every teacher,

and the school resource officer

knew his name.

Notoriety from Day 1 is not a good sign.

Yesterday, after a particularly unlovely exchange,

I walked with him down the hall to the principal's office.

Then the Holy Spirit came, in that way that He does. 

Something in the words He gave me raised the veil.

For a moment 

I saw the 

frustration,

hurt,

brokenness,

and for 15 seconds, 

my heart 

welled up with compassion,

and I knew him

as a boy Jesus loved.

Today will, in all likelihood, be a rough day.

So will tomorrow, and possible every day after.

Grammar can't address his sin.

Teachers can't change lives--Jesus can.

Yet, I don't think I will forget

15 seconds 

when Christ lifted the curtain,

and I saw.

Be blessed today,

Ginger

Secret Santas and the Falliablity of Flu Shots

For the first time in about seven years, I got a flu shot this year.

For the first time in about ten years, I've got the flu.

The pharmacist informed me cheerfully this morning that my flu shot should at least lesson the duration of the nastiness.

That's something, I suppose.

Anyway, I unexpectedly have time to do a bit of planning for one of my favorite holiday traditions: Secret Santas.

At my school, participating teachers and staff draw names and trade goodies the last week before school gets out for break.

Since gift-giving is one of my love languages, I'm quite sure that I have more fun than the recipient.  

I don't have my person's name yet, so right now I'm just browsing for general cuteness.  If it's cute, cheap, and creative (the CCC test), I'm all over it. If I draw one of the few male teachers who participate, I'll just buy a two-pound bag of M&M's, slap a bow on it, and call it good! ;-)

Things that pass the CCC test so far:

Candy Cane dip and an apple-yum!:

 

Pumpkin Spice Creamer:

 

Microwave Popcorn +gloves:

 

I've already bought the polish  (the NYC brand to keep the "cheap" part in place) to do these for my lunch table buddies:

 

So, how about you?  What's your favorite small gift to give (or receive)?

Be blessed,

Ginger

A Tutorial: Procrastination and Pumpkin

When a teacher has approximately 2,456 papers she's avoided all of Thanksgiving break, and now it's Saturday, and she should really get something done before school starts back on Monday, here's what she might do:

6:30 am Bible study + coffee + sunrise.  First things first.

 

7:00 am Dig papers out of tote bag that's been shoved in a corner all week.

7:01am Sigh.

7:02 Decide to make pumpkin cinnamon rolls.  Realize we're missing ingredients for the recipe we normally use.  Search internet for alternative. Choose these.

 

7:15 am Start mixing these.

7:45 am Look at papers. 

7:46 am Sigh

7:47 am Throw in a load of laundry.

7:52 am Break two-cups-of-coffee rule.

8:00 am Grade first stack of papers.

 

8:59 am Fist pump!  Only 2,446 left to go!

9:00 am  Weight Watchers Conviction: omit half the butter from the recipe.  Spread slightly less guilt-inducing amount and spiced sugar on top of dough.

 

9:15 am Make a healthy omelet to assuage conscience.

9:45 am Bake pumpkin cinnamon rolls.

 10:05 am Spread rolls with gooey glaze made with juice of one orange, 4 oz.cream cheese, 3/4 cup powdered sugar, a little vanilla, and the leftover 1/2 stick of butter.

10:11 am Lick the fork. Consider another.

 

10:12 am Willpower wins out.  Deliver some of remaining temptation rolls to neighbors.

10:30 am Read more papers.  Debate whether  trash can is kinder than F's.

11:06 am: Write blog post wishing readers a belated Happy Thanksgiving and passing on great antiprocrastination tips

Be blessed, 

Ginger