packing my bags (nice knowin ya xanga)

Perhaps I was getting a little TOO comfortable here on xanga.com. It is time for a change, however, and now my new address is:

www.atreecalledlife.wordpress.com

i love you guys.

Currently Listening Retrospective 1995-2005 By Natalie Merchant see related

when did we stop drinking out of the drinking fountain?

This evening I went on a long run. My Monday runs tend to be longer than usual. I am usually just trying to stay afloat on Monday, that's probably why-- I don't think I need remind you that the business staying afloat certainly has its stress factors. I'm continually and consistantly shocked by what every Monday (regardless of which one it is) brings. It's because for three days (friday, saturday and sunday) I shed reality, put it on a coat hanger and don't pull it out again until Monday. I know, tis a bad way to handle things, I know I can be very immature.

So anyways, I was on a run. (Ok, I am feeling convicted; I don't mean to fool you, I really should say JOG from now on). I jogged and jogged until my lungs burned to numbness in my chest. I jogged so long and hard I remembered how I felt every year on Thanksgiving as a little tom-boy playing touch football in the grass, hurting myself to keep up with the older cousins. Nevertheless I greeted each passing runner, walker, cyclist, lawn waterer, street-loiterer, and stroller pusher with a smile and a wave (even if they fought eye contact). Which reminds me of another thing, people don't say "hi" anymore, trust me, I practice this smile-and-wave rutine everyday.

So then I finally, I got to the base of the hill I'd climbed (and then practically crashed down on my way back) where the beloved fountain awaits. The drinking fountain stands as a joggers shrine in the middle of a shady park. It is made of small rocks and is only about three feet tall. As I approach the watering hole I am also approaching a family gathered around the picnic table just a few feet away. They're BBQing turkey legs. I smile and acknowledge the happy family as I bend down to take my first thankful gulp. As my lips hit the cool water, their little yellow lab puppy (with a pink leash and collar) immediately appears behind me and begins to lick my legs. I turn around and I hear a woman from the group tell her husband to please take care of the dog so I can drink in peace. "It's OK" I say. And I keep gulping. Then the dog comes up behind me again, this time with a little tennis ball that she presents at my feet. "Can I?" I ask as I pick up the ball and look to the puppie's owners. "Sure" they say curiously. We play a couple rounds of catch, and it's sort of akward because everyone is watching me so I go back to gulping. This is when things get a little strange. Suddenly the grandmother-looking-one from the group stops me. "Please take this" she says almost urgently. She is holding a bottle of water and she's too close to me. I look at her. "Oh, it's ok," I say politely, "I just live around the corner and I was just stopping cause I couldn't wait. I'll be home in a minute.... but thanks." What I said seemed to disturb her. "Please, take the water, drinking out of those things makes me nervous" she insisted. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't just trying to be nice. I was freaking her out. "It's really OK, I was just trying---" I explained. "You know you really shouldn't drink that water!!" she exclaimed, this time sounding scared and a slightly crazed. Everyone turned and looked but seemed to agree with where she was coming from. Meanwhile, she was getting closer and so was the water, inches away from my fidgiting hands, so I just took the water and said thank you. This time I didn't finish the final blocks with an easy jog-- I ran, afraid she'd come find me at my house and scare me into a box of bottled water because she'd discovered that I also drink from the tap.

Currently Listening Grace By Jim Brickman see related

There is nothing like the fresh scent of the morning, coming to greet you the moment your eyes open. I love leaving my windows open. I love this time of year in southern california, because for about the entire month of October, I really do feel like I live in a sort of paradise.

The softness, the gentleness and goodness of this weather reminds me (oddly enough) of this student in one of my classes. I don't even know his name, but I know exactly where he sits. Every Thursday I take my seat and I feel this warm and gentle spirit behind me. It's not that he's always happy, it's not he's perfect, it's not even that he's a natural idealist-- he has a genuinely sweet spirit. There are only a few things I know about him; he's a father and a husband and he lives in Sierra Madre. That's it. That's all I know, and yet, his mere presence has the power to uplift me to the soul every Thursday night. What is that? I refuse to be foolish enough to believe that this man is just a nice guy and he makes people feel good about themselves. It seems to me an absolute miracle that the Lord would choose to bless our lives this way-- through the basic inactive presense of others. Who would have ever guessed that people, taking the form of sin-infused earthly bodies, could be living testiments of God's love? How is it possible that we can sense someone's spirit, and without words be transformed by it?

Great is the God that we serve, who makes delicate flowers spring from frozen earth.

the ONLY thing

today in Galations I read a sentence that nearly took my breath away: "...the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love." I couldn't believe it, maybe because I didn't want to believe it. Plain and clear!

and so convicting...

there is someone in my life that is incredibly hard to love. The saddest thing is that in my imagination I yell and scream things at her that are equally unlovable, I retaliate in my mind, and that is how I know that even though I don't act like it on the outside, I have become infected by her nagative spirit and have developed one of my own. If she is so hard to love, if all this is her problem, why is my heart so offended by her? I must admit, I think God and I could do better... I know we can break her walls down, we can make this happen, we can show her what love is. What is more, I could actually love her, I wouldn't have to fake it every day for the rest of my life! On the worst of days faking it seems like it would be the next best thing, God doesn't want that either! What bondage that would be! But all this work, sometimes I am torn- sometimes it is so much more comfortable to be bitter. Sadly, I think sometimes I'd rather just call it quits and shut her out of my life, cut her off. Luckily there is a piece of my heart (God's vioce) that insists otherwise. In life I've got to battle that part of my personality (turning my back on the unlovable) in order to chase afer "the only thing that counts in faith" which is expressing itself through love. Interesting how when people are hardened towards us, we harden ourselves towards them. It's just a defence mechanism-- which frequently stands in the way of God living his love through me. My job is to be love to others, no matter what-- there are no excuses, the same way there we no excuses for the people that loved me when I was at my worst.  

The thing about love is that it is unashamed. When it gets rejected, it returns for more. Love just keeps bouncing back. How many times has the Father's love come back in an attempt to soothe my rejecting spirit? How many times have I proved to be completely unlovable and someone in my life wrapped their love around me without hesitation? I have a new inspiration, my own inspiration, because of God's incredible work in my own life. I can see things coming full circle. I don't have to stand outside of her high walls and become intimidated. I once built high walls around my broken heart. I can scale them because of the Lord God who insisted on His love in my life. I can break through because of the strength God has given me to bounce back. If I come offering love, how can I be rejected? I might be rejected today, but love plants a seed for the later seasons.

Thank you God for your word, truth and reality making its way into my life.

Currently Reading The Way of the Heart By Henri J. M. Nouwen see related

Yesterday proved to be a long day, I think, because it was a lonely day. I had a sixth grade student call me a "f-in dumb ass teacher." He was mad because I told him to sit down after having blurted out "what the hell?!" Needless to say I gave him a referral to the office (which took me about 30 minutes to fill out and mean while the class kept themselves busy by kicking and shoving each other). Then, after I put the referral in his hand and informed him that the principal would be waiting for him up at the office, he insisted on staying in the classroom. This is the point in my day when all I could remember was the clause in the district handbook about absolutely NO corporate punishment allowed, ever, at anytime. So, even though it took every ounce of will power left inside me, I didn't touch him. A security guard came-- apparently thats his job, to put his hands on the students. Lucky guy.

So I found that teaching can be lonely in that way. Sometimes when something really extreme happens in the classroom (it could be some kid sneezing and snot flying all over his desk and onto your shoe) you really just want another adult in the class with you-- you want to look up, make eye contact and exchange that look that adults give eachother when kids are just being kids. The is true for attitude raising defiant highschoolers, and is especially true for second grade.