Waves

I silently move with a fluttering kick, lifting one arm after the other, as my mind drifts into a quiet prayer.  I think of myself, but soon the requests of others surface one by one.  As I intercede, they appear faster and faster until a torrent of needs inundates my attention. There is pain, there is sorrow, there is uncertainty, and there is doubt. There is potential unrealized, and wounds that have yet to heal. There are plans unraveled and closing doors. There is so much, and so much sin. The water flows past my face, welcoming me into its familiar arms. I love it there, but for one brief moment I feel it push against me as if the sorrows and pains of each friend have rushed down to suddenly drown me. I stop and sputter against this weight too great for me to bear. Oh God! I know You care, but this is so much from people so small.  Sinking down again, all I feel is Peace and the strength of His hand lifting me once more.  He knows.  Slowly I begin to move again, knowing it’s all in His hands.

Fear

We sit in the lantern light late into the night and the tears stream. We sit broken and I choke out the ugly words, words that have been there but I have been too appalled to voice, “I think sometimes, I am afraid to trust the will of God.” Ugly sin. All these shortcomings, all these iniquities, I let them flow. “I mean. I do trust Him. But sometimes I am still afraid of what He might bring next.”

These words were written by someone I admire greatly but have never met. From time to time, I read her blog and feel convicted that I am not doing more with my life. She gave up everything to serve God, and He has done amazing things in her life. When I read that she has felt the same conflicting emotions I can’t seem to shake, I feel a little better.

I still feel broken, but I know He has not stopped working on me.

The Lies We Believe

I hear a number of sad stories in my classroom. Students don’t typically drop out of high school just because they are lazy and just don’t feel like going to school anymore. They have a story that led them to that point. Often, it is filled with a number of factors that have developed or occurred in their environment as they grew up. Few, if any, of these factors are happy ones. They tend to relate to broken homes, drug abuse, physical abuse, neglect, violence, and poverty among other things.

Today, my students started telling one of these stories. Many times, unless it relates directly to my student, I don’t know the people in the stories they tell me. That wasn’t the case today.

Five years ago, I started working at a local middle school as an aide. I hadn’t graduated yet, but it was my first school job—a precursor to my chosen field.

Five years ago, I was dating someone I had known from youth group. He had a little sister, and she went to my middle school. When she started dating someone, I was told to find out about him and make sure he wasn’t a bad kid. I did my best. He was in one of my classes, but I never worked with him. He was a good student, polite, and didn’t seem to get into trouble. He was suave, the girls loved him, and he had dated a few of them. I remember mentioning that I thought there was something about him that bothered me. I had described it as slightly gothic, but only because I wasn’t familiar with the term “emo.” But that was him. Emo. I gave my report and was told it was fine. My then-boyfriend even took slight offense because he had many of the qualities that had worried me about his sister’s boyfriend. He was right, though. It wasn’t a problem. I think their middle-school romance lasted a month, but I remember it with a slight grin. I’ve seen this student either at school or the store where he worked many times over the years, most recently last week. I would smile at him and wonder if he remembered or even ever knew about that time when he was in 8^th grade.

Today, I am a teacher with the same school district. I couldn’t tell you what ever became of the guy I had dated or his little sister, but I can tell you the boy she dated in middle school is dead.

He died on Sunday from self-inflicted wounds. I didn’t really know him, talk to him, or think of him aside from the times I saw him in passing, but I was still taken aback when I was told this morning.

I’ve known only one other person who died in the same manner, and I remember the devastation she left behind. It is possibly the cruelest thing you can do to those who care about you.

It leaves you to wonder, how bad must life be to end it one month before graduation... one month before the world opens its doors to new opportunities? How lost must one feel to believe there is no more hope for this life? How misled must one feel to believe life has lost its worth?

I can’t imagine, but I do know those things he must have thought and believed were lies. He left a countless number of people wondering what happened and what could they have done to help him.

I was asked if I knew the student. I nodded but didn't say anything else. What could I say?

I don't really know what to say now except that I am constantly blown away by the lies people continue to believe as well as the repercussions of those lies. It is often because personal value and self-worth is placed in accomplishments, failures, or people. When these things inevitably fail, the world seems to crumble.

The only thing that gives life value is the one thing the world can't touch or take away.

Jesus Christ.

Without Him, we are so very lost.

Love as He Loves

There were days this past month when I left work thoroughly disgusted with people. I briefly pondered that question some ask when questioning Christianity: “How could God send good people to hell?"

He doesn’t.

I felt like my eyes were being truly opened to the reality of the world, and I was ashamed of what I saw. Did I ever see humanity as innately good? How foolish I must have been.

Why would Jesus come to save this? We choose our paths. Why would He go out of His way for us? These thieves, these liars, these abusers, these drug-dealers, these racists, these bad parents, these dirty people...

After a few weeks of chewing on this, I felt like I got part of an answer today.

Yesterday, I dealt with someone who openly disliked others because of color. He didn’t like foreigners, specifically ethnic foreigners. There were other issues as well, and I walked away from the situation just a little amused by the ignorance, yet vast potential, he displayed. The kid was a brilliant idiot. I told a co-worker about him, and my co-worker looked at me and asked, “Didn’t you hear about him?” He went on to tell me about the life this kid has lived.

“He witnessed his brother commit suicide…”

There was more, but I really don’t remember it because I was overwhelmed by the horror of that one thing. When he came back to class today, I saw him in a new light.

We soon were faced with a new problem. A quarrel broke out between a couple who are now living together. He’s 18; she’s 17. They live with her parents. Neither one brings much to my class aside from drama. His parents don’t want him. His dad locks himself away in a room whenever his son comes home. His mom will have nothing to do with him. He has money, but he has no one. And he’s crying in the hall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he sits and half-heartedly complains about another student.

When school ended, my co-worker and I talked about the day… about these boys. He shrugged under the weight of helplessness as he started walking away.

“You know what they say. It’s easier to build a boy than repair a man."

I hear this boy crying in the hall and I break inside. Every day I come across people I want to protect from life, from parents, from friends, and from themselves. I see the path they are walking, and I want to stop them from continuing. I want to save them from the wreckage that is continually perpetuated throughout their lives and I grasp a taste of understanding. Yes, there are days when I lack pity, and I just want to see them walk out my door. Then there are days when I get a glimpse of that person the way Jesus must see him. The way He sees me.

He saw the road we were traveling and wanted to save us from ourselves. He wanted to come down and hold us close, away from harm. And so He came. He saw us, not as the sin, but trapped in it. He reached out His hand and waits for us to grab it.

I have grabbed it, but I know I’m not always aware of how far He brought me. I forget how He made me new, and I look down to those who are still worn. It is times like these when I am reminded of what was done, and I pray for the ability to even begin to love as He has loved.

Fallen

I’ve recently begun to understand just how pessimistic I have become.

Not only is the glass half empty, but its contents will only stay but a moment before continuing on once more through the water cycle leaving the glass to inevitably shatter into pieces, never to be whole again.

Say what you may, but that is science. It's a science rooted in the decay of sin. Things, people, thoughts, plans, life—it all goes from order to disorder, and I feel like I can do nothing to stop it.

Life Lessons

Earlier today, while browsing through coloring books at K-Mart, I heard a mother warn her child that the monster in the next isle would come and get him if he didn’t obey her. My first thought was, “What are people teaching their children?” Threats and lies like that only work for so long before the child learns there is no monster and Mommy is a liar.

Later, in the checkout line, the cashier tried to scan the piggybank a little boy had with him to carry his money. His dad laughed and said, “She’s trying to charge you for your money! That’s an oxymoron.” The boy’s immediate response was, “I’m not a moron!” His dad went on to explain what an oxymoron was and to ask him where he had learned the word “moron.” He was shocked to hear he himself had said it before.

Driving home, I started to think about the things we must learn and then teach others. The things my students don’t know constantly shock me, and it reminds me that even simple knowledge and manners must be taught before others can be expected to know them. Say thank you when given a gift. Wash your hands after using the restroom. You can’t cheat on your work and then expect to know the answer when it is asked on the test.

What are we teaching the next generation? Should the social issues we increasingly encounter surprise us?

On my drive home I started thinking about the simple things I learned and who taught them to me. I made a list and thought I would share some of them with you. What about you? What do you remember learning? what is important for children to know?

1. The joy of giving—Uncle Dave

2. Give gifts that people might actually like and use—my brother, Jon

3. Color in the lines—My preschool teacher (I actually remember learning this lesson)

4. Boogers are alive and should not be eaten—my brother, Jon

5. Electricity is painful and should not be played with—my brothers, Dan and Mike

6. Change my brakes—my brother, Dan

7. Install my car’s water pump—my brother, Dan

8. Change my brake lines—Dan

9. I don’t need to wait for others to help me or do it for me—my brother Dan

10. Bleed my brakes—YouTube

11. How to drive—my mom, brothers, and sisters

12. How to drive a stick-shift—my sister, Angelika

13. How to drive like a maniac—my brother, Jon

14. Effectively clap for optimal sound—my friends, Jon and Dan

15. How to ride a bike—my dad

16. To find ways to help people before they ask—my kindergarten teacher

17. Write my name in cursive—my grandma

18. To say fire in Spanish—my cousin, Erika

19. Vaccuum correctly—my dad

20. Greet people and look them in the eyes when walking into a room—my mom

21. Dribble a soccer ball—my sister, Angelika

22. Take a good photo—my dad

23. Shoot a basketball—my brother, Jon

24. The cup game—Caroline, my mentor since 7^th grade

25. The value of spending time with God—Caroline my mentor since 7^th grade

26. Euchre—Terry, Caroline’s husband

27. Love classical music—my dad

28. I could be funny, even if just by accident—my mom

29. To make empanadas and yerba mate—Dori

30. A love for Argentine culture—Dori

31. 1+1=2—My “Big Sister” from our local college

32. Aspirin is a drug, so I was in fact, not drug-free—My cousin, Peter

33. The definition of gossip and that it was not a good thing to do—Stephanie, a classmate in first grade

34. Africa is not a country, but a continent—my sister, Darlene

35. Swing dance—my sister, Darlene

36. Sledding does not always require actual sleds; trash bags will suffice—my sister, Darlene

37. Vinegar and baking soda can create enough pressure to cause a soda bottle to explode—my brother, Dave

38. Science is amazing!—my brother, Dave

39. I could write well—my boss, Brenda

40. How to install and wire lights—my brother, Dave

41. To apologize and own up to my mistakes—Jon

42. To stick with one or two general themes when decorating a room—my brother, Jon

43. Don’t eat grapes randomly from a bunch; pick off a small group and eat those so the bunch doesn’t look ugly—my grossmutti

44. How to properly peel a banana—my Aunt Maria

45. How to drink water without making noise—my Uncle Heinz

46. The value of hard work—my dad

47. To crochet—the lady at the farmer’s market

48. How to cook—my mom

49. A love for books, sports, and basically anything they loved until I was at least 15—my sisters, Angelika and Darlene

50. To appreciate new music and enjoy concerts—my cousin, Erika

51. Never hang up on someone, even if you're mad at them; it is the immature thing to do—my brother, Jon

A New Spot for an Old Blog

I have contemplated making the switch from Xanga, and after some unwanted solicitation, I thought I'd give this a test run. I might start with posting on both blogs and then see what happens from there.

Liebe Gruesse,

Lis