Agape Fail

So it's about to get real. You have been warned.

Last week my principal, who I have a great amount of respect for, came to observe my classroom. He was unimpressed. It did not go well.

There were lots of factors that went into this bad day, as there are a million factors that go into every day. Essentially, I told my kids to do xyz, but they didn't and I simply did not have the energy to walk around and tell each kid individually to get it together. So I more or less let them off. Then my principal, who really puts his money where his mouth is and gives everything he has every single day, walks in the door. And my kids are pretty much sitting there.......and some are sleeping. Not my best moment. Easily one of my worst moments as a teacher.

I wish I could say I recovered beautifully, but I did not. Pretty much the whole observation was like that.Ugh. But I am not surprised that this all went down because recently I have been suffering from a lack of love. It is love my neighbor month at 1027 church. A time when we are challenged to step back from ourselves and take a look at the people around us. Reflect on how God is calling us to serve our neighbors and heed that call.

And if I am going to be honest for a moment (you know because I usually put myself in such a positive light on this thing.....) I don't feel like it. I simply don't feel like it. I don't want to be bothered with going above and beyond. I want to do my part, and have everyone else do their part....and if there is slack have someone else pick it up. When God puts on my heart to love my neighbor, I want to tell Him it isn't my turn. How about you  choose someone else to love my students for a change and let me teach poetic language and then go home?

I know that part of it is that I am a public school teacher and it is February. March is looming and looking long. Christmas break was so long ago and spring break is not coming fast enough. And I have one of  those professions where it is just really obvious when you are and aren't loving your students (clients, patients, whatever you call them). I know that the loving thing is to be patient one more day, give the kid one more reminder as to what successful behavior is, give every lecture 100 percent because not only is it the loving thing, but my kids are already behind, and can't afford anything less. And I am tired. And loving my students takes energy that I don't have and a hope that I am not sure exists in me anymore. It takes time that I would rather spend doing something else, something that didn't require me to look beyond myself.

Wow, that is ugly. But if I am honest it is how I feel right now. These sentiments accurately reflect what is going on in my heart. And it is I love my neighbor month, and I am suffering from some serious agape fail. Snap out of it Abby.......there are people with real problems in the world.

Essays from my esses

So I had the equivalent of a who's on first spanglish conversation in my class today. It was again by my three jokers in fourth period. The conversation that had me rolling today went something like:

Me: Boy #1, what are you doing? Get out your essay!

Boy #1: Hey! I'm the esse!

Me: No, esse I mean your essay, the one you are supposed to be writing.

Boy #1: You can't call me that. That is racist

Me: Fine, write your paper. Boy #2 where is your essay?

Boy #2: (Pointing to boy #3) Right there! Esse!

Boy #3: Hey! Esse!

Me: BLAH! Everybody get out a piece of paper and write on it!

That last bell can never ring quite soon enough.

60 degrees and GRUMPY?!?

It has been a little chilly here lately. It even snowed on Thursday, and there wasn't even a two hour delay! What the heck is the point of that? But not this past weekend. This weekend the weather was so amazingly sunny, and reached 60 degrees. 60 degrees! In February! Evey year these random warm February days surprise me. Isn't it March that is supposed to be in like a lion and out like a lamb. Not south of the Mason Dixon baby!

For a short time when we first moved down here I had a job that made me tool around the city of Atlanta in prime gouge your eyes  out traffic hours. Coming down 400 at 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon? Comparatively water boarding doesn't seem that bad. But occasionally we would have these amazing gorgeous February days and suddenly the drive wasn't that bad. I could put the windows down! In February! Are you hearing me, I could drive around with the windows down before St. Patrick's day. (And not because the windows stopped working at an inopportune moment at the drive thru and the car you were driving was in lieu of a payment your dad's client could not afford to pay. Then you just had to pretend it was 60 degrees and sunny. Jill, Em, holler if you hear me.)

It didn't matter if it took 45 minutes to go 15 miles. I had my windows down. I would put my sunglasses on and smile. I would put my bare hand out of the window and start working on my ring tan. I could handle the traffic, see it as a blessing even because I had come from a place where I appreciated sunny, beautiful, February days. PEOPLE, I wanted to scream, SOMEBODY THROW A PARTY I HAVE MY WINDOWS DOWN IN FEBRUARY ON PURPOSE!

I will never forget the day I saw a guy in his convertible,  with the top down, in February, mad as could be because apparently someone cut him off. I started laughing. I could not believe that someone could be that angry when they were sitting in their amazing car with the top down in the middle of winter. This guy clearly did not know what it was like to go without the sun for a month at a time. He didn't know that there are people in the Midwest who lose their sunglasses every season because they go that long without needing them. He just didn't get it. He did not have problems, how can you have problems with your top down in February?

I wonder how many 60 degrees and grumpy moments I have in my own life. Not about the weather, but metaphorically. I mean, I have a great husband and a healthy, happy baby. I go to a job, that while tedious when it comes to paperwork, I mostly enjoy. I actually believe I am making a difference. I like my students and my co-workers. So when I roll out of bed and just don't feel like going? I need to recognize the blessing that is my life. I need to realize that over all my life is 60 degrees in February, maybe somebody did cut me off, but considering the overall circumstances, I can let it slide.

Be careful what you lick

A week or so ago we were all hanging around on the bed after we had folded some laundry, the husband, the peanut and myself. I was running in and out of the room, probably putting away the ridiculous amount of shoes I had out. Probably not. Probably thinking about how I should put them away while I walk past them repeatedley and avoiding the copious amounts of clothes I have been leaving on the futon re-organizing for a month and a half.

Anyway, the peanut was crawling around on the bed testing things out by, you know, putting them in her mouth. (My cousin calls this the dog stage.) She managed to pull the ac adapter chord out of the baby monitor and was staring intently at it. I then left the room and figured her dad would keep this day from turning into babies first emergency room trip. The next thing I know I hear a cry come out of the room....

From the husband! Turns out the peanut put the ac adaptor in her mouth and made a face like it didn't taste very good. I am sure it doesn't. Christian thought, surely if she is reacting like that it has to be no, or very little shock. Apparently the baby has a high pain tolerance? Who knows. But your tongue does in fact complete the circuit.

How many times have I done this in my life, looked at somebody else and said, "I know that is not the best idea, or exactly in God's plan.......but they haven't gotten burned by it! Surely I can get away with it too!" You can guess how many times that thinking has worked out for me......

Oh, and after we got done laughing hysterically about it, the husband asked me, "This is going to go in your blog, huh?"

Oh, yes.....because I am not in charge.

Just moments ago I found myself hollering at my students "I don't like having to defend my choices to you! I am aware of what is going on in other people's classrooms. I know what they are and are not doing. I have a reason we are doing things the way that we are."


Then I thought about the conversations I have been having recently with God. I wonder if He ever wants to yell that at me. I am so glad He has more patience than I. But maybe I need that hollered at me.
"Abby, I don't like having to defend my choices to you. Don't you trust me enough to know that I make the best choices for you? Yes, I am aware how it has worked for your (sister, friend, someone you heard about once). Don't you think I set that up as well? I have reasons as to why we are doing things this way. Trust me."

The kid with the fish

I have a good friend who lives down the street. Brooke is a single woman who loves God and the city. Basically, she listens to God and then does what He tells her. It seems to be working for her

One day, through a series of happenstance (that can only be God when you look back at them) she started babysitting for a woman who had recently left an abusive relationship and needed someone to watch her three kids while she waited tables (lets be honest, how great of a shift do you have to have in order to make it worth coming to work after you have paid the sitter?) Brooke was initially torn about babysitting. Who wants to commit your Saturday afternoons? She considered farming out the job to me and my husband, or another couple that lives in the neighborhood. But the Lord spoke into Brooke's heart and she listened.


God told Brooke, you are single and you will never have more time than you do right now. I want you to do this. Can we pause there for a second.... I know that there are some serious struggles to being single. I can't imagine how hard some of it all is and I don't want to be one of those married people who is all "single is FUN single is FREE what the heck are you complaining about!" Single is lonely sometimes, waiting on God is hard, feeling a little like your adult life is in limbo must be kinda weird....like you are pregnant without a due date. I think it is cool that Brooke recognized that God had her in a circumstance purposefully. He wasn't all "Hey, when you are partnered up, then you can do something. Till then, chill out." And God doesn't say to me "You were of use to me when you didn't have all those husband, baby, house strings. But now that you have all those obligations I don't expect you to serve me." He uses the circumstances He put us in in the first place.

Anyway, so Brooke goes to babysit. She sees that this mom, Elizabeth, is doing everything she can, but seriously: not enough hours in a day (Lord, can you do something about that? 26?). She comes back to the small group we host at our house and asks if maybe a group of people can come over to weed wack her backyard. Brooke's heart is burdened for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth starts attending 1027 and bringing her kiddos. She feels loved their. I have the peanut and she finds the time to take her three children grocery shopping and then bring my family dinner. Meanwhile, Christian and I are trying to come up with the perfect childcare plan. We only need someone two days a week, surely, surely we can just trade with one of the part time mom's at the church, right? They have one kid, we have one kid..... then we started praying about it. Three days later Christian and I confered. It went like this "I got a name, did you get a name?" "Yeah, what name did you get? "What name did you get?" "You first." "No you." (We are so mature.) "I got Elizabeth" "Good, me too."

I called her and the conversation went something like this. "Do you want to swap two days a week childcare for two nights a week childcare?" "Yes." "Great."

And now? I hate using the term "babysitter" because that isn't what the relationship feels like to me. Bonus parent maybe, advisor, parenting mentor, really good friend. Bearer of wine and dinner after a parent teacher night from hell. Yeah that too. She adores the peanut, and we adore her kids. Her daughter calls the peanut her sister and makes up stories to the picture books as she holds the book out to show her the pictures.
I was talking to Brooke, about how blessed I feel. About how when I was still in the hospital the Lord put Elizabeth so heavy on my heart I asked Christian if we should change the peanut's name. About how she has blessed my family so incredibly by answering the Lord's call. She told me she felt like the kid with the fish. She brought what she had (three hours on a Saturday) and the Lord has multiplied that beyond her wildest dreams. The Lord has multiplied her gift to meet the needs of the people around her. How cool is that?

And that is my prayer. Lord, help me to hear you. And may you multiply the fish that I bring.

The Good Daughter

I grew up in a house with two older sisters. The Lord deemed my parents as excellent girl-raisers. So they got three girls. A couple at my church is expecting their third girl, I believe it is a compliment from God. A sign that they are doing a remarkable job with the first two.

Anyway, while each sister has her different strengths and weaknesses, there is definitely a thick stripe in all of us that marks us as from the same tribe. We all marched in the marching band in some capacity, we all did the musicals, we were all in the high school choir at some point and took some honors classes. We all came to know the Lord at relatively young ages and were active in our faith by high school. This didn't escape the eye of many teachers and various peers.

One way that we attempted to distinguish ourselves, mostly in a joking manner, was being "the good daughter." I am not even sure how it happened, how we started yelling it. But one of us would announce, "I did the dishes, so I am the good daughter today!" or "I'm the good daughter because I helped cook while everyone else sat around on their butt!" When Em was the only bearer of the grand-babies, she had serious good daughter status. How do you compete with that?

Later it morphed into, I am the good daughter because I am the only one who didn't mess up today. I won't broadcast their business on the internet, but I remember the day that two major mess ups came in, one on each sister. I was the good daughter that day for sure. I remember it happening because it was so rare!

We still do it, joke about being "the good daughter." If you are the first one to call on a birthday or anniversary, or if you are the only one in town. You are the good daughter. It is all in good fun for us. But I agree with the sentiment that there is a sliver of truth to everything you joke about.

I think we, me...my sisters...all of us, we like the idea of being favored. Who doesn't want to be the favorite? If you are the favorite then the good you do is extra good, and the bad you do isn't so bad after all. Who doesn't want to be seen through that lens? The part that makes it a little messed up, is the comparison aspect. If I am the favorite that means I am held in MORE favor than someone else. I don't think only children think being the good kid is any big deal. Of course they are the favorite, there isn't another choice.

That is how the Lord is different. He doesn't operate with a concrete amount of favor and once He runs out, sorry about your luck. God is big enough, His love is big enough that everyone can be His favorite. (Someone on the prayer team at my home church prayed that over me, I am not smart enough to realize this on my own.) No seriously, wrap your mind around that. This second you can start claiming that according to God, YOU are the good daughter. Somebody at work not treating you right? That sucks, but rest in the fact that you are God's favorite. Really hard on yourself because you can't lose the rest of the weight you are trying to lose? Keep trying, God favors you.

It doesn't make any sense if you think about it too hard. How can each person be favored, doesn't the word favor connotate picking something above the rest? (Whoa there English teacher I think you are taking your job a little too seriously.... What you gonna diagram the next sentence?) It does. Normally. But God doesn't have to operate within those rules. His love is big enough to allow me and you to be His favorite. So bask in that. You are favored by God. God favors you.

All of this is true, you have to believe it. Because today I am His "good daughter."

Enough already

I grew up in a pretty middle class exsistence. Two parents, two siblings, a dog. Sometimes things were tight, but mostly if we really wanted it, our parents found a way to make that happen. Even if that meant picking up a paper route to get to horse camp, or an after school office job to get to Spain. I certainly didn't know what it meant to not have enough food, even if it wasn't the fruit snacks and doritos that graced my friends cupboards. We got by.

At the lake, where there were more people to feed and keep happy but there were the incredibly generous grandparents, as well as some sort of system in place to insure everyone got their piece. A caper chart, a line going by age, an aunt telling the older cousins "only three meat balls till everyone has had some!" There was either so much that everyone could have as much as they wanted (candy on the porch), or some system in place to make sure that everyone at least got enough (half a pan is more than one serving, put the lasagna back).

In the fall of 2007 I started teaching at a "high needs" school. High needs is politically correct for poor. In this case really poor. Ninety-eight percent of my students were on free lunch. The other two percent had lives so chaotic no one bothered to fill out the form. It was my first experience with never enough. The books we were assigned by the county to read? There weren't enough for every tenth grade classroom to even have a class set. You had to anticipate the reading of them, and then sneak in and take them before the other teachers. Even then I only got 28 for my class of 34. We didn't have enough desks. In fifth period it was first come first serve. My kids would race to class in order to ensure they did not have to sit on the floor. In October we ran out of paper. This was a complete shock to me, but teachers (older and wiser than me) had seen it coming and squirled away as much as they could the previous months. They still ran out. I ran out of extra pencils and paper. There weren't enough expo markers or computer time. There wasn't even enough toilet paper in the student bathrooms.

It is crazy what always running out of things does to people. You are constantly scheming to get what you need. Constantly. If there are ten extra pieces of paper in the fax machine, you take them. If you find an extra dry erase marker on the floor you put it in your pocket. You do not stop to consider that it is someone elses. You need it. Do I have extra tape? Technically yes, but I am going to shrug my shoulders and say "sorry" because I can be pretty sure that when I do eventually run out of tape, there will be none available. When you get an email that says: come by the library if you want xyz, there is a stampede of grown people. It makes you stingy, it makes you take things that aren't yours. An incredible amount of your energy is taken up by figuring out how you can get what you need.

I think it is easy to judge behavior when you don't understand. I remember when I was seventeen and earning my gold award at a homeless shelter for families. Whenever we gave the kids anything, even if it was the same thing to every kid, they would steal it from each other. I thought this was ridiculous. Now I get it. Who knows when you are going to have a chance to get another pencil? Better take as many as I can get now.

It wasn't until I started teaching in this environment that I truly understood why God would describe himself as "enough" as "more than enough." If I believe that God is more than enough for me, (not just sing it, but really believe it) then I would act in a manner that shows I believe all of my needs will be met. I would give more. I could give away so much more because I wouldn't have to worry about stockpiling. So much of what I don't give comes down to trying to make sure I have enough just in case. But God says He is the enough. I don't have to scrimp and save. If someone else asks for something I have I can certainly give it to them.


I also don't have to take more than I need. For me right now that means food. I don't have to take a ton of something. I can take enough, and trust that that is enough, and I will have an opportunity to eat more of it at some later junction. (Isn't that weird? I am an adult. I do my own grocery shopping, I don't have to eat 15 packs of fruit snacks because I can buy them whenever I want. Why do I feel like I need all of them RIGHT NOW? I have issues.)

I'm not saying that I don't have to be responsible, or a good steward of what God has given me. I can act in a way that proves I have a never ending supply closet somewhere in my home. Because I do. Because God is enough.

In defense of feeling ambiguous about breastfeeding.....sort of

You reopen a blog thinking you were going to write mostly about Jesus and two months later you tell the world about your boobs. What can I say, God works in mysterious ways?

Anyway, I follow the site Babble pretty closely. Yesterday they published an article about breast feeding vs. formula feeding that I thought was pretty reasonable. I also thought it wasn't really anti-breastfeeding. It just wasn't pro breastfeeding. But, as you find out when you get pregnant, somehow having a baby makes your body in a weird way public property. Thats right, even if you haven't posed for Playboy, people, strangers, strange people who don't even HAVE boobs, are allowed to have an opinion about your boobs. And what you should and should not be doing with them, and where, and when, and for how long. It is totally weird. Really, truly, weird. I wish there were a better way to describe it. It's weird.

Most articles and blog posts you read take a really strong stance. And I get it, I do. I do think breast feeding is important and most women not doing it for longer is simply a product of our incredibly crappy maternity leave and care in this country. I think everyone should be super positive and encouraging about breastfeeding because if it weren't for a friend stopping by after her 12 hour shift to get the peanut to latch, another friend paying for a lactation consultant, and some excellent advice from my sister and aunt who used to be a la leche league coach, I would have never been able to make it work. I was supported, that is why it worked for me.

But, there is a difference between being supportive, and making people feel like crap if they opt to formula feed. Especially if they have given it an honest try. Breastfeeding while Juliet was tongue tied was the most painful experience of my life. I had fibromyalgia for years, and pushed out a baby, and breastfeeding made me want to DIE. But that is a sign that something is wrong, so if that is how it is for you RUN to someone who can help you! So I get a little bristly when someone (even on the internet) puts "hard" in quotations marks when they feel like women just use it as an excuse. They, apparently didn't get their nipple chewed off by their oldest (the first time the peanut yells YOU DON'T LOVE ME! She will see the scar....by 16 she'll be like mom, put your boob away, fine I won't wear this short skirt) so maybe they should back off.

So I do support breastfeeding, but I do think that sometimes the hard gets glossed over because people want everyone to try it. In my experience not being totally honest about anything only makes that thing more difficult for everyone. With that I will say, there are pros and cons. Oh and I am only one person with only two boobs the experience that I am describing only applies to those two boobs.

Pro: It is free. You burn extra calories. It is ridiculously convenient. Seriously, no going for a bottle in the middle of the night or worrying about if you will have clean warm water available, is the baby here? Are my boobs here? Good to go.It made air travel very easy for us. Crying? Nurse her, she stops. There is something very cool about your body being able to provide for your child. For me, getting Juliet to latch and then going through the whole tongue tied thing made me feel like God uniquely designed me to advocate for her. It gave me confidence that I could be this babe's mom. I love coming home from work and her bouncing around like a maniac because she wants to get to me. Maybe if I wasn't the bearer of the boobs she would still do this because I am her mama. But I do love that moment. It has provided some very sweet moments that I may have missed because I am so go go go. I had to stop, and let her eat, and just hang out and hold her. I needed a reminder to do that sometimes. Especially when she was very little. You don't have your period. How cool is that?

Con: It hurt until we got the tongue untied, then it still hurt for a little bit. But we worked through it. I got approached for nursing in public, and it made me a little skiddish to nurse wherever whenever. Though I did get the opportunity to tell someone if they didn't like it they could arrest me. I also got a profuse apology from the property manager. I felt kinda like a bad-ass. I also got over the skiddishness. I hated pumping. Hated it. Leaking, but they make pads that work great. For me the cloth ones didn't cut it. I needed the disposable ones. But don't forget them when you teach high school boys! I have been more bra sizes in the last nine months then I was during my entire pubescent period. I thought they would just get big, then go back. It did not occur to me how much milk I needed to be making would be evident just by looking.

Looking at this list I think for me the pros absolutely way out the cons, and most of those cons would not have existed if a.) someone would have told me or b.) I would have had a normal experience. But pumping, it still sucks (no pun-intended). I do wish the way we talk about breastfeeding would be more approachable in this country. Instead of "breast is best" I think I will go with "hey, everybody likes boobs, even your baby, why don't you give 'em one!"

In which I become an internet sensation because my baby chokes on dog food

We're having a little problem at our house. Our kid is a dog food lover. She has gotten increasingly mobile in the last couple of days. She scoots all around the house and is delighted when she gets under things, the excersaucer, the end table, the dining room table. In her new found mobility she has also found the ultimate goal of cruising around on her belly.

The peanut is totally into the dog food. She makes a bee-line for it and none of her favorite toys can distract her. Not even the stuffed dog that can say and spell her name. Heck, not even the actual dog can distract my child from the dog food. She loves it.

She loves playing in the dog food, playing in the water, and most importantly (and unfortunately) shoving as many pieces into her chubby chubby cheeks as she possibly can. Until, of course, some mean parent comes by, jams their finger in her mouth and makes her get rid of everything in there she was storing for later. It is truly gross. And a little dangerous, as she bites your finger with her four sharp teeth the whole time you are getting the dog food out of her mouth.

When I posted the dilemma on Facebook my two dear sisters pointed out that perhaps the eating of dog food is genetic. They cited the one time I ate dog food, in a car, because my two lovely sisters dared me to do it. Thanks guys. Now the whole world knows that you tortured me that I ate dog food. But the presiding parental sentiment was that I should let her do it because she will anyway. Alas, dog food is a choking hazard and I really don't want to be the parent who let her kid choke.....on dog food. Imagine the headlines.

But maybe my sisters are on to something. She may not get the dog food loving from me, but I can't deny I like things that are bad for me. Exhibit A: Reality television, especially anything featuring the Kardashian sisters. This can't be good for me, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. And Netflix offers episode after episode on demand. It's bad. Exhibit B: Food, in college I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and two pints of Ben and Jerry's for dinner on more than one occasion. Because I could, also because I could and only go a tiny bit over my meal plan. I wish I still had a meal plan.

I can't be the only one. Anyone else attracted to the proverbial dog food in their life?

Oscar Who?

Apparently the Oscar nominations have come out today. I only know because I hear people talking about how they have never seen those movies. (Although, Toy Story 3 got nominated, that is on my: When does it get on Netflix? list.) Not only have I never seen the movies that are nominated, I have no interest in seeing most of them.

My taste in movies isn't what we would call refined. I used to like those dark and twisty films, the ones where nothing came out right and everyone ends up more messed up than they started. At least, I think I did. Maybe I spent a short period of time pretending I liked those films.....hmmm....

Ever since I started teaching I have had little use for the Oscar worthy films (except, the exceptions: Babe, Up, Wall E, Beauty and the Beast). When I go to a movie I want to see something that takes my mind off of everything, something that I can escape into for a moment. I read too many essays of kids who have survived far too much. I am not really interested in having that mess portrayed on film. I know it exists, and I know that I don't ever want to know how it really is. My kids are far too good at describing it all first hand.

Call me low brow (after all I do like dips and soups featuring Velveeta) but I like movies that end.....well....more or less happily ever after. I like to feel good after I have left my cushy seat and sticky space on the floor. At least, I like to feel emotionally good, I also enjoy the slightly sick feeling of too much popcorn. But I like those 90-120 minutes to take me to a place where the couple who should end up together does end up together, where parents don't mess up epically, where lost dogs find their way home, and if I am really lucky animals talk.

I have been thinking recently about how Christ followers truly are strangers in a strange land, aliens in an alien world. We are not meant to be forever in this world, and thus are not totally comfortable here. I am not saying I don't enjoy my life, or there aren't moments that don't feel absolutely perfect. But I think those rapturous moments are preludes to the rapture. Glimpses of the amazing life we have waiting for us in heaven. I think it feels wrong sometimes because this isn't the way God designed it. I know that. Deep in my soul I feel it. Lots of people do. I think it is why we don't want to watch movies that remind us of that ugly truth. We all are longing for our happy ending. And God says we're going to get it.

The baby slept through the night?

This morning I woke up at 5. I was in shock because the peanut normally wakes up at like 3 claiming she is starving. STARVING! Help her parents are starving her!!!! We usually don't go in until she has cried for ten minutes, she has never failed to just start screaming louder at the ten minute mark. If she knew how to call child protective services, she would and scream at the top of her lungs THESE PEOPLE WON'T FEED ME! This would be fine, but she is almost nine months old. I was told babies start sleeping through the night at 6. I was lied to.

But last night I didn't wake up, until I sat up at five shocked that I hadn't been woken up earlier. In my haste to get out of the house on time I guess I was pounding around pretty loudly. Christian woke up to make sure I hadn't fallen down the stairs. I promised him I had not and then remarked "Hey, the baby slept through the night!"

Turns out the mommy slept through the night. Thanks honey, for covering the 3 am feeding.

You know, I have heard some version of this story numerous times by numerous parents......only it is always the dad who is the heavy sleeper........

Sometimes, it all comes down to boobs

So, my day job is teaching high school kids. I think the litmus test for teaching high school should be do you think immature high school boys are funny? If the answer is no, you will be unable to keep your sanity. However, if the answer is yes, you can be entertained all day. This particular post has no spiritual application. I just thought the conversation was hilarious.

I have a large Mexican contingent this semester in my last block. These three boys have promised to keep my on toes. No post lunch napping for me! This was the conversation we had the other day.

Me: Okay, now that we know what plot is I want you to get into groups of two or three and think of a movie you all have seen. Then I want you to diagram the plot. I will call on you in 5 minutes.

Boys (to each other): Okay we all have seen "Girls Gone Wild"

Me (interrupting): You can't do "Girls Gone Wild"

Boys: Why not? We've all seen it. You said, pick a movie you've all seen, we've all seen it.

Me: You can't do that movie because it doesn't have a plot.....Not that I have seen them, but from the commercials on TV, there is no plot

One boy: Sure there is the exposition they tell their name, then they are like no no I can't then-

Me: No boobs! The rule is no boobs so you can't do "Girls Gone Wild" choose something else.

Later we were doing this activity where you circulate a story so each group does a different piece. They received a story about a princess trying to find her father.

Boy: Then right as the bounty hunter is about to kill the dad, the princess flashes him-

Me: Don't I have a no boobs policy in here?

Boy: Flashes him with her flash light and he is blinded for a second so he misses with the ax. What were you thinking teacher?

Me: Oh, of course, what was I thinking......

Boy: Oh and we diagrammed our movie

Boy 2: Yeah it is "Dear John"" but no homo

I walked away. After the battle of the boobs I didn't have the energy to fight that one......

Seriously Starbucks? Trenta?

Yesterday Starbucks announced that it is going to start serving their coffee in even larger proportions. As if my bladder needed more to handle (teachers can only pee during hall passing period you know.) It is like 30 something ounces. Basically it is like going into Starbucks and coming out with a Big Gulp.

I know the Starbucks Trenta is a bad idea for me. I do. But I also know that there will come a day when I will look at the difference in price and decide what the hey, it isn't that much bigger than a venti. Then I will walk out of the store with a gallon of sugary iced coffee goodness that is a single serving as it only has one straw coming out of it. That is what I will tell myself anyway. Then I will pee myself faster than when I was nine months pregnant and decided I could hold it all the way home from work. Another bad decision in my life.

I can't help it. I like too much of a good thing. I like to overindulge. Food, staying  up too late, reading into the wee hours of the morning because just enough isn't enough for me. I want whatever I want until my stomach hurts, my eyes are bleary, I pee myself. There are people in my life who are so good at discipline and  moderation. I am praying I become more like them. Especially before I have the Starbucks trenta option presented to me.

Apparently I would rather get in a wreck than be wrong......

Sunday I went to my pastors house after church. Tim and Pam are so amazing about sharing their life, and food, and heart with people. I have learned so much about the value of breaking bread with people and transparency at the Wolfe house.

Anyway, they live on top of a hill, while the ice was mostly gone there were still patches of slushy stuff on the side of the street where I normally park. The sun was out, I didn't need my coat, my tires were firmly on dry pavement. Ice was not on my radar. I know that I had just spent an entire week hanging out at my house because the ice on the roads weren't safe for the school buses. Our local news spent the entire week showing film of cars sliding on the ice and smashing in to things. And yet I was completely oblivious to the ice where I was about to park.

I pulled up and slowly my car lost traction. Before I knew it I was stuck on the only patch of ice left on the road big enough to get stuck on. This cannot be happening, I thought. I am from Toledo, Ohio and every Christmas we would make the trek to north of Albany. I am not new to snow banks and black ice. So why was I spinning my wheels on a patch of icey slush smaller than an area rug?

The truth was, I wasn't paying attention. People who know me well can tell you that this is a theme in my life. I bring the baby but not the freshly packed diaper bag, I miss a turn I have taken every day for 6 months, I forget to sign in (something I do every. single. day. at work). I do all of these things because I am not the best at paying attention. People who know me really well can tell you that this is also the case in my spiritual life.

I will really struggle with something. Selfishness, anger, lack of discipline, the particular sin doesn't really matter. I think about it, pray about it, remember to be vigilante. Pretty soon what was once an icy road of anger is now just a slushy patch. And when I stop paying attention, I run right into it. And before I know it I am stuck. And then things really get interesting.

My tires were spinning, my car was sliding and yet I didn't think I needed to get anyone to help me out of my little situation on the hill. I still thought I had it under control. All I needed to do was to back up enough that my tires were no longer on the ice. Then I could drive around the corner to my second favorite parking spot and pretend as though I had everything together all along. What kind of yankee gets their tires stuck in Atlanta ice? You have got to be joking!

So I tried backing up, which led to sliding around a little bit, and a little bit more, and a tiny bit more. I tried trying to go forwad, then backward. I tried and I tried till I was practically touching a car on the other side of the street and Pam and her neighbor are outside of her house watching me. Lovely. So much for that no one has to know thing.

After getting the neighbor to move their car so no one has to call the insurance adjuster I became completely unstuck. I was fully embarrassed, and well aware that there really was no one to blame but myself, and that my refusal to admit I was stuck in the first place only made my problem worse (or maybe I just blame it on the lack of four wheel drive......) Which is also the case spiritually. And I doubt I am the only one who has this problem.

The scenario is always the same, I sin. I feel convicted.  Instead of acknowledging the sin, asking for forgiveness, and truly repenting, I pretend it isn't there. Full speed ahead! Even as the tires on my spiritual life are spinning and squealing. Pretty soon the rest of my life is slipping out of my control too. But I don't repent. I don't admit that I messed up and need some help. Before I know it I have some sort of wreck in my life that is far beyond the initial slip. Because I wouldn't stop and acknowledge that I have a problem.

I spin my wheels, I back pedal. I do pretty much everything but stop and look at my Lord and tell him, I am stuck. I refuse to repent, to God or anyone else in my life. I decide to turn my life into a car wreck. I'm learning that this isn't the best way to go. I am learning to hit the brakes and call for help.

Your 3rd grade teacher lied to you.

In the third grade you suddenly realize you are not amazing at every single thing you do. K-2 you are completely confident that you are the bomb. It doesn't matter what it is or if you've done it before. Any subject, any time you are the master.

Somewhere in the third grade your confidence shrinks. You suddenly realize that you may not be THE BEST at everything, you may not even be great at everything. So you don't want to try anymore. Why do something if you aren't sure you are going to succeed at it?

That is when your teacher introduces the concept of YOUR best. She tells you that as long as you do your best than that will be good enough. Your best, she says, is all anyone can ask of you. This mantra continues throughout elementary school, and follows you to middle and even high school. Just do your best people tell you, your best is always good enough.

When your ten this is true, when you are 27.....sometimes it isn't. In fact, sometimes, it is a big fat lie. When you are 27 and teaching a core subject at a high risk school, when your kids can't read and are expected to pass a standardized reading test at the end of next school year, when you are supposed to be a good wife, and mom, and teach like your hair's on fire. Sometimes, your best in one of those categories sucks. Big time.

Sometimes your best, is your best and it totally blows. People get disappointed, 18 year olds don't graduate, heck sometimes you totally screw your kid up. (I'm hoping that doesn't happen...) And what do you tell people, "Hey I know that blew and may have permanent consequences, but it was my best and Miss Pansy with the kitty-cat sweater told me that my best was good enough, so there you have it."

I guess that is where grace comes in. I have always understood that God's grace is sufficient to take away my sins. But somehow I have been leaving that sufficient grace on the cross, like some kind of cosmic get out of jail free card. If I use it now, I won't have it for later like....I don't know.....the final judgement. I am beginning to understand that my conception of grace is vastly inadequate. God's grace covers my inadequacies every single day. I don't have to be the perfect teacher or mother or wife, because God's grace covers me.

But having that sort of grace extended to me means I have the responsibility to extend that grace forward. When the guy in front of me brakes for no apparent reason, when my students act like idiots because they are 16, when people disappoint me. I am expected to understand that just like God's grace covers me, it also covers the people I interact with, and that covers me to.

So your third grade teacher lied to you. Sometimes your best is not good enough. But God's grace always is.

P.S. I applied for a dream job, one that showed up on my Facebook feed after I told God I would like to do X, could you invent that job for me? Thanks! Pray with me that God's grace will cover me and grant me favor even though I am minimally qualified.

some thoughts on my spiritual growth part two.

After I was saved and introduced to the Holy Spirit I graduated from college, married my wife, and moved to Ohio where she had a job. We regularly attended a Christian church (Disciples of Christ). I really liked the disciple’s tradition and lack of formality in their worship service. I learned that the disciples, more commonly known as the Christian church, came out of the second great awakening that occurred on the then American frontier of Ohio, Western Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Indiana, and Illinois. Most historians date this revival from 1800 to 1830. Great camp meeting were held for days and weeks at a time, at places like Cane Ridge Kentucky, with speakers preaching 24 seven. People were warned not to climb the trees as they might be injured if they fell out in the Spirit and fell out of the tree. The Holy Spirit manifested in many different ways. Many were saved and the Awakening literally turned the heathen frontier into a Christian territory.

The Christian church was originally non-denominational and even anti- denominational. Communion was open and any believer was welcomed to participate. Communion was celebrated as part of the service each Sunday, baptism was by immersion of the believer. Babies were dedicated. Two saying that pretty much summed up the disciples beliefs. “No creed but Christ, no book but the Bible” and “in the essentials unity, in the nonessentials liberty in all things charity”. Each believer is able to work out his own salvation with fear and trembling. Each church is governed solely from within the congregation. The regional and national offices are set up to help the churches within their geographic areas to things that each church could not do alone, like church camp or mission work.

When we moved to Toledo at the age of 24 my wife and I went looking for a church that was either Methodist or a Christian church Disciples of Christ. After a few weeks we found a Christian church in which we felt at home. We initially started going because Kathleen liked the choir. We soon found that this church was filled with loving people and love was one of its core values. My spiritual life began to grow rapidly.

One of the stumbling blocks that impaired my spiritual growth was my belief that I needed to know all the answers to the questions I had before I could fully believe. " Why did Jesus have to die on the cross so that God could forgive our sins?" When I let go of that question and just accepted that God had that answer even if I couldn't get my mind around it my spiritual growth accelerated. I decided to accept the mystery and trust God. God used that trust to grow me spiritually. He also eventually showed me the answer to that question.

About this time something happened which profoundly effected my life my family our church and the entire community. God sent my church a new pastor. (to be continued)

To Mrs B. Thank you.

I got a Facebook message today letting me know the husband of my first speech coach is seeking stories to tell at her funeral. I am so grateful I was a part of this woman's team. There is so much more that could be said about what she did for me. I hope that I can have half the impact she did as a teacher.

I got a B in Mrs. Brenizer’s freshman English class. While I had always been an A/B student, English was not where I got my B’s. Especially from my speech coach. Wasn’t she supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt? But Mrs. B didn’t give the benefit of the doubt, her legacy in my life as a teacher and a speech coach were her high expectations. Mrs. Brenizer expected that you do your best, always. She had an incredible ability to know exactly when a student was giving her their all, and when a student was giving her what it took to get by. She knew I could write better, and was the first teacher to call me on it.

As my speech coach, she was the most intimidating figure to perform in front of. I know I am not the only one who thought that. We used to talk about it, the four girls who would be her last team, in the hotel room late at night. (We were securely in our room late at night because we didn’t want to know what would happen to us if we broke curfew.) You would walk into her room; she would be behind her desk. You would perform. If you did really well there would be a head nod and a small smile. That was it. I worked hard for those head nods, those smiles. I knew she meant them. If you got a “good job” or “nicely done” at the end you had really nailed it.Those weren’t given out lightly and I still remember the ones I got. I worked hard for Mrs. B, because she expected me to.

My junior year was the last year Mrs. Brenizer would teach. It was a dark time in my life as well. I had an unexplained illness and dropped all my classes but one. I remember my parents asking if I wanted to drop out. The only reason Ididn’t: I still wanted to compete. I know there are a lot of coaches out there who would not have had time for me. I came to school sporadically, I sometimes missed practice, I had to call out sick the second day of a two day tournament. Mrs. B recognized that I needed the team. She also recognized that even though it wasn’t very good, I was doing the best I could. And she always accepted your best.

I owe a lot to Mrs. B. I continued competing in college. I met my husband on the Ball State speech team. (We were duo partners.) I have a baby girl and teach English in inner-city Atlanta. Three years ago the administration of the school I teach at found out about my background and asked me to start a team.

I thought of Mrs. B a lot the two years I coached. When my kids were knuckle heads, when judges wrote rude things on the ballot, when my kids were giving me less than their very best. I couldn’t help but wonder what she would have done. It was also the first time I truly appreciated how much work she had done for us. Last year my students admitted to me that while they had no problem performing in rounds, they were intimidated by practicing for me. When I asked why, one of them explained, “Well, everyone else is just like that was pretty good. But you always expect more from us, you don’t think it is good until it is like…. the best we could do.” In that moment, I knew I was doing right by my kids. I still hope Mrs. B would be proud of me, smile, nod her head, and maybe even give me a rare “nicely done.”

Be Still....

My grandmother is 87 and a spitfire. My daughter gets the red head recessive gene that must have been hiding in me from my grandmother.  I can remember staying up late with my cousins and at two in the morning as we were sneaking in to go to bed and not disturb anyone, we would find grandma, cleaning the sink. When you do as much as she did in a day, you need to squeeze somethings into the two a.m. slot.

This Christmas was the first time I saw her slowing down. I suppose it is time, but it is difficult for her. It is a struggle I understand deeply. It was one of the hardest things about having fibromyalgia, operating at a slower pace.

I can't tell you the rhyme and reason of the way the Lord moves. I have always believed that God could heal me, but it took over ten years. Hardness of heart on my part I am sure was no small part of that. But I do know that in much of that I learned some pretty incredible lessons:dependence, discernment of the Holy Spirit, there were even a number of divine appointments in there when I couldn't get out of bed at church camp.

One thing I definitely learned was that the be still part of "Be still and know that I am God" isn't a suggestion. I  have always heard it in a voice like a yoga instructor. Breathe in, breathe out, relax, be still. But as I have been re-reading the Anne of Green Gables books (I don't know that I ever got all the way through them....) I keep reading that phrase. When Anne is working herself into a tizzy, talking to much, freaking out about what may happen, Mirilla yells out "Be still, child!" This is not a friendly suggestion, it is an exhortation, Stop! Stop talking, stop worrying, stop thinking, stop moving! Be still!

Being still isn't something America values. It isn't something you are supposed to do when you have a million things on your list and your life is spinning out of control. You are supposed to grab the horns, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, doing something to help yourself! Not what the Bible says. God says "Be still! and know that I am God.

Transparency

You've been thinking a lot about why you write in second person. You enjoy writing in second person but think some of your thoughts are better served in first person. You also know that you have been writing in second person as a way to distance yourself from what you write. You know the only person you are fooling is....well....you. You've decided to take the first person plunge. In the name of transparency.

Transparency is something I think is important. Especially as a christian. If I can't or won't tell people in my life about  what I am doing, I probably should not be doing it. That whole business about Christ being the light and the devil being the king of darkness have really rung true in my life. Fancy that, what the Bible says works out to be true, even in my own life.....especially in my  own life.

It is important because if Christ is the center of my life, then I need the space around him to be transparent. Like my living room window. I have this painting that I did hanging above my couch in my living room. It is of Atlanta, and the space around it looks like the city is burning all over again. While it was not intentional while I was painting, I now think of that fiery color as the Holy Spirit descending on my city. Anyway, the painting can be seen really well at night if the curtains are open and the light is on. Because my windows are transparent. If they were made of that foggy glass that throws cool shadows on the floor, the painting would never be seen from the outside, only if you were invited into my home.

I think Christ is like that painting, and our lives are like the walls and windows in my living room. The world is dark, but the light is on in my house because Christ is in the center, and just like my sofa sized painting you really can't miss Him. Not because of anything I have or have not done, simply because of who Christ is. But I have discovered, that if I want to, I can close the curtains to my life. Only let certain people through the door. Then only those I allow can see the way Christ is working in me. It seems safer somehow.

But if I believe that what Christ does in me is a beautiful work, if I really believe that He is the worthwhile part of my life, then I will pull back the curtain and make sure the windows are clean. It will feel a little uncomfortable at first. I will cry in places I am not supposed to, or reveal struggles no one talks about because that is where the Lord is working. But in my discomfort, my awkwardness, there will be Christ, sitting in my Living room.

Gifted

You don't like that word. Gifted. It freaks you out. This whole post freaks you out. This whole thing freaks you out. As does your etsy shop. You really think you might throw up right now. But God is teaching you about gifts, His gifts. He gave some to you turns out and He wants you to write about them. So you do, even though you don't want to. You were thinking about not writing it then one of your 16 year old students wrote you an essay about what they believe that convicted you. Okay God, you get it.

Your first experience with the word gifted was in the third grade when you took the test that put you in the gifted class. You were three points shy. This wouldn't have been such a big deal except both of your sisters were in the gifted class. You think you disappointed someone even though everyone assures you you did not. You eventually test in, but already that word gifted is somehow loaded for you. Giftedness is somehow tied with disappointment.

You have been afraid lately of the gifts that God has given you, especially because He seems to be asking you to use them. Repeatedly, all at once. You had sort of been hoping you could wade in to all of this. You see, you don't like to say things like "I am good at painting" or "I wrote this. I think it is worth reading." Maybe you don't think it is lady like. Maybe you are afraid that others will disagree. Maybe you very secretly don't believe that what you do is any good. You know it is probably the last one.

Your sister says to you "This guy at work went off on a tangent and I think it is for you." Just a few weeks ago you wouldn't have believed that God would use a stranger at your sisters work to deliver a message to her that was meant for you. That sounds crazy, but crazy seems to be happening lately. You are learning what God will do to get your attention.

Your explains the metaphor that this guy used, when he proclaimed boldly that he was a gifted teacher. You think about this. How the gift often represents the giver. You think of some gifts that people have given you that you are particularly proud of, the quilt your grandmother made for your wedding gift, the key ring one of your favorite students sculpted out of wire with your last initial on it. You love these things because they were made just for you, and because they express perfectly your relationship with these people. The quilt from a master seamstress as part of a bigger family tradition. (You are from a big family with even bigger traditions.) The ring from an excentric student who can concentrate better when he is keeping his hand busy.

You know that the same is true to the gifts that God has given you. They were also meant to represent the Giver and the relationship He has with you. He is a creator and He wants you to create. He created poetic circumstances and beautiful metaphors, He wants you to explore them. He created art and thinks people should have access to it. By sharing His gifts you are sharing Him, not telling everyone how great you are. And even if people interpret the works that God is doing in your life as that, then maybe that is okay. God thinks you are pretty great.

More than that you think of the gifts you have given people. Just last week your sister wore the sweater you gave her last Christmas to church. When she got a compliment on it she said thank you, my sister bought me this. You do that, when people compliment the physical gifts others have given you. The giver gets the credit.  In devaluing the gifts, you realize you are devaluing the Giver. You decide you aren't going to do that anymore. You think you might just be good at this blogging thing.

Some thoughts on my Spiritual Growth part one.

My wife teaches English composition. She has her students write an essay called "this I believe". This I believe that becoming a Christian has happened to me and is happening to me. 20 years ago I thought I knew what it was to be a Christian. I now know I didn't have a clue. 10 years ago I thought I knew what it was to be a Christian. I didn't have a clue. Five years ago. I thought I knew what it was to be a Christian. I didn't know. I believe I still don't know but Iam and I am becoming a Christian. The Bible calls this moving from glory to glory.

I was raised in the Methodist Church (later United Methodist) or more specifically in two Methodist churches. During nine months of the year my family attended Jesse Lee a Methodist Church in the suburbs north of New York City. This church had many fine people and Christians but was a little liberal or at least sophisticated. We believed Genesis but were taught in Sunday school (8th grade) that Genesis was probably written by four writers with letter names X or Z or Q or whatever (I had no idea Moses wrote Genesis). Jesse Lee had a congregation of 350 or so parishioners. Despite the liberal bent it was long enough ago that Jesus and the Father were still being taught in a pretty much orthodox fashion. The Holy Spirit was mentioned once a week in the confession of faith.

During all or part of the summer months I attended Whitewater Methodist Church in the small farm community of White Water Indiana where my mother grew up and most of her family still lived and went to church. I was baptized (as an infant) in this Church and my parents were Married here. At the Whitewater Methodist Church you sang "Sweet Hour of Prayer" and "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" and you meant it. At the Whitewater Methodist Church Jesus WAS Methodism and Christianity (except for this one Sunday school teacher who thought that Christianity was following the 10 Commandments. It seems every church has one) and you prayed to Jesus or God the Father. They seemed to know the Holy Spirit at Whitewater better than Jesse Lee but as a part of a relationship with Jesus not as a separate person of the Trinity.

During my college years I spent quite a lot of time in Whitewater on the weekends where I would go to visit my Grandparents. At the time the Whitewater Methodist Church had a wonderful man of God named Charlie Radcliffe pastoring there. I was going through a period where Christianity was pushed into the background of my life and Rev. Radcliffe drew it forward. at the end of my senior year in college I had a very powerful experience with the Holy Spirit. Holy Spirit showed up in power at a moment of great need and I was engulfed in a blanket of love and joy and peace. After that time I could tell you there's a Holy Spirit like I can tell you there is a desk. This is also the time I count as my conversion when I turned my life over to Jesus.

To be continued

Obedience

You didn't expect this. You certainly don't understand it. You were at church Sunday and the Holy Spirit came on so thick you were expecting a vision. You haven't gotten a vision since your healing. You sit and wait for it. Close your eyes super tight, relax them, sit up, sit back, the Holy Spirit as thick as that day two years ago. No vision. The Lord tells you He is going to show up a little differently today. And yet you didn't expect this.

God gave you free babysitting this year. You asked for it, and God gave it to you. You expected that part. (What can you say, you've already confessed on this blog that you are spiritually spoiled.) This relationship has become so much more than equal babysitting. Elizabeth has been God's grace incarnate so many times you tear up thinking about it. And this was not the most convenient year for her to meet others needs. A single mom, three kids, a shaky income. She babysits your peanut even when she doesn't need you for babysitting that week. You fight about who has the easier end of the bargain, both claiming to have the long end of the stick. She loves your baby so well, she loves your whole family so well. You get a glimpse of what it might have looked like to live in the church Luke talks about in Acts. If even just the smallest sliver of a glimpse.

On Sunday she was having a rough day. It all came down all at once at church. (Doesn't it always? Neither of you seem to have the capacity to break down in private, only in public. Sigh.) But as you talk through everything the Lord meets her needs, and not just her needs but her desires. The ones God spoke in her heart, just for her. The bricks fall into place, the sky opens, the promise she had told you about in October, the one she was allowed to cash in in 2010. That impossible promise is redeemed in the matter of 15 minutes in a conversation between friends. And you got to be there.

And then, there was more. MORE. You shake even now as type this. If God keeps showing up like this you will be completely ruined for the everyday. You will be shocked when God doesn't miraculously appear. God has you open up an etsy shop. Even now as you type this, you know it sounds crazy, ludicrous, almost patronizing even. Your friend needs a better job and you tell her to sell baby sweaters online.

You have increasingly done your Christmas shopping online. You don't like going to stores by yourself and your husband hates crowds, plus you can shop online at work. Somehow you found the website etsy and have been stalking it. You aren't quite sure what appeals to you about it, but it is really freaking cool. You have played with the idea of starting a shop, and while you haven't listed anything yet you registered and have played around a little with the skeleton of it.

As she comes over that day, everything falls exactly into place. You take pictures of the things she has made and make your baby model them. You know you aren't a great photographer and yet every picture snaps magically into place. The Holy Spirit shows up so thick again you both have trouble breathing, like the air is too thick or something. You keep thinking about how crazy this all is. You both figure that if anything comes out of this it will be all God. Because what you two are doing makes no sense.

You put the shop together on Monday morning. You knew it was what you were supposed to be doing. But you kept shaking your head at how silly this was. Why this God? You tell the Lord He doesn't make any sense. He tells you that is none of your business, He is asking for obedience. So you do it. Monday night late you check it on a lark. You know there are shops that go months and months with no one even looking at their stuff. You have a sale. And because God has a sense of humor it is the item with an owl on it. Owls, you hear your dad's voice in your head, are a sign of the prophetic.

In case you are interested www.etsy.com/shop/abbyknorman

The Promised Land

You've been thinking a lot recently about promises. You know that God has so many promises in the bible that you can claim. And that is all well and good and everything, but sometimes you want more. You have come to the conclusion that the spiritual inheritance God has given you through your family makes you very, very spoiled. Your hearts yearns for more, not just for the promises God promises to everyone, you want the promises God whispered into your heart. The ones that are made just for me.

On facebook today you find out that God blessed Camp Ray Bird with an additional 109 acres. You remember fondly the summer you worked at this camp. You remember praying for that land the entire summer. You felt the Lord speak into your heart that summer, that land belonged to Camp Ray Bird. And yet the deal was not closed that summer as you were so sure it would be. God told you that land was theirs, how could the talks stall out? This was not how you had pictured it.

Later you find out that you were not the first person to pray for the land surrounding the camp. Various camp directors have been praying for that land for 40 years.

You seriously doubt you are the only one who heard the Lord declare that land for Camp Ray Bird. Maybe the director heard it the first time he prayed for that land 40 years ago. Maybe he retired, and went on to be with Jesus thinking "this is not how I pictured it, I was sure that land was ours. You wonder if he ever became disheartened, yelling out to God "where is the land that you promised me?"

These wonders come very close to home, too close to home. Because you are still wondering about a promise God gave you. You have the most amazing baby girl, a gift that you cannot believe God blessed you with. You could never be good enough to deserve her. But this was not how you pictured baby's first Christmas when you were round enough to play Mary in the Christmas pageant last year.

When you were giving your kids their final exams last year you also were waiting for your ultrasound appointment, the ultrasound appointment. The one that ends in "it's a ____!" But you felt confident in how that appointment was going to end. You knew what you had in their, and despite the fact that you had showed no other medical symptoms, you knew that the day would end with not just boy but boys. Twins.

You didn't come to this conclusion lightly. Heck, you didn't even want twins. Two cousins and a speech coach had had them and twins looked hard. One at a time until you were done, that is what you had always said. But the signs for the twins were flashing like neon vacancy script on a cheap motel. The names the Lord pressed into your heart two years before you were even trying to conceive, the night you were visiting Camp Ray Bird and the Holy Spirit took hold of your hands. You laid them on your womb and prayed for it to be filled with those boys. The dream you had a week after you knew you were pregnant. The one you knew was more than just a dream. Your friend praying for you to be filled with twins twenty minutes before you told her you were pregnant. The numerous words your dad received, even after the first ultrasound. The second not just a dream.

Then there was the owl. Your dad had been talking about owls for weeks, months even. Owls were supposedly the new sign of the prophetic. They can see into the night. (As an English teacher you appreciate God's use of metaphors.) The morning of your due date your sister and you take a walk with her giant pit bull mix to really get things going. When you return home and head into the back yard there is a giant owl waiting for you on the tree in your backyard. As you, your sister and her giant dog approach. You had never seen that owl in your neighborhood, you have never seen it since.

You are absolutely in love with your baby girl. She is the most exquisite child, the best parts of your husband and you plus an extra amazing all her own. And as you rock her to sleep at night, you pray for her brothers, the ones that are in your heart. The ones that God promised you, and by extension, her. Even the song that you sing to her every night, the one you picked just for her has mention of these brothers. You didn't plan that.

You get choked up when you talk about them to your dad, the person who has had so many words for these boys, your boys. You tell your friends how crazy it is, but you miss them. You didn't know before, what it was like to be a mother. But now that you know your heart pulls at the idea that your sons are not with you.

You were pretty angry at God when you got that ultrasound that said girl. You attempt to blame it on the pregnancy hormones but your freak out was pretty epic. Why would God tell you twin boys only to give you a girl? Why would He urge you to tell non-believers when it wasn't to be? Why so many words, so many signs if you weren't carrying those boys?

You don't know. You still don't know. But the Lord has made peace in your heart. You are eating up every single second of this baby's first Christmas. And hope that next year it will be a babies' first Christmas.

Hey! Ray Bird Ministries does such an incredible amount with every single dollar God has blessed them with. They are so so serious about sharing the gospel and making disciples y'all so please consider checking out their website and being a piece of the great land promise!

www.raybird.org/new_land

A reluctant healing

You've been blogging for a few days and have no idea how God is going to use this thing (you haven't even had a chance to tell your dad you are blogging again in your joint venture.) How the heck do people stumble upon a new blog anyway? When Beth Moore asks for your miracle. And in the comments section you decide to take another little jump off the divine diving board God has lead you to and link to this blog. You sort of feel like you are going to throw up but here it goes.

I was the most awkward seventh grader on earth when I got mono. There is no joke less funny then the joke that is told to the highly hormonal thirteen year old who has contracted the kissing disease, who has never been kissed. Trust me. For most mono means a couple of weeks out of school and then you are done. For me it was the start of a very dark journey. I missed 70 plus days of school that year partly because of the mono, which I could never seem to shake, and partly due to the anxiety that I was experiencing after having missed school for months at a time. But even without the emotional aspect (and I am someone who can emote) I just plain didn't feel good.

In eighth through tenth grade I got myself together enough to make it to school on a semi-regular basis. I missed a lot more than most but had a very understanding doctor who wrote me a catch all excuse note while we figured out what the heck was going on with my health. Even in this confusing time the Lord blessed me with parents and a doctor who believed me. We muddled through.

But shortly before my seventeenth birthday things got really bad. I dropped out of all but one of my classes and made it to school probably less than once a week. On the cusp of dropping out of school completely I got a correct diagnosis. Fibromyalgia, and a promise from a kind and brilliant doctor that I was going to get much better.

With diet and less activity than usual I managed to live a relatively normal life. Mostly I learned how to be dependent on the Lord and trust that He would show up when I really needed Him. But God didn't want me to get by. He wanted me to thrive. I had in my teenage years gotten prayed over for healing. I would name it and claim, and a few weeks later be angry that I still felt like crap.

Slowly in my 25th year the Lord began to thaw my heart toward healing. Through words from my sister and father, and a friendship I had been avoiding due to the fact that she kept claiming healing over my life (how dare her!), I began to hear the Lord speak that he wanted me to be free of everyday pain.

Disclaimer: I am in now way saying that my experience is that over every fibromyalgia. I just know that this is true for me. Now that that is out of the way.

I finally ordered A More Excellent Way from Amazon and after repeated shipping failure (spiritual warfare anyone?) I got my hands on that book. The passages about fibromyalgia being linked to fear of failure, fear that I was not good enough pierced my heart. It was as though the author knew me, knew things about me I did not even admit to myself. Maybe I would be healed.

Very shortly after that the Lord showed up on a Sunday during the worship and pushed me into my seat. There I saw a silhouette of a person clinging to a thorn bush. That person was me. Somewhere in the midst of my illness I had begun to hang on to it. Identify myself with it. For me, I was allowed to not be good enough, because I had fibromyalgia. It was okay to not be able to be everything for everyone, I would it is just I had fibromyalgia. The Lord showed me letting go of the thorn bush, straightening from the stoop I was in, and standing, turning toward the cross and instead clinging to that. And now (and I am battling to know this every day) it is okay to not be good enough, it is okay to not be everything for everyone, because what Jesus did on that cross is enough. His grace is sufficient.

Lead the Celebration

Sometimes, when your dad has prophetic gifts, and he gives your sister a word you ask for one too. Sometimes he says, "no, nothing, oh wait...." then he gives you the most ridiculous vision.

He tells you he sees you leading a marching band. A high school marching band. A black high school marching band. You think you have an interpretation for this, but as you pray on it the Lord reminds you of things. He reminds you of all those Labor days, waiting for your High school marching bands turn (you played in the drum line). You were always jealous of the band from the other side of town.

The black marching band always looked like it was more fun to be in then yours. It probably was. The drum majors would break from straight up left, right, left, right and would get down. Then slowly the boogie would spread from the drum majors, to the woodwinds, to the trumpets, to the drum line, until finally the tubas were swinging in ways that look anatomically impossible.

The thing you remember about watching this marching band, and the bands at the schools you grew up to teach at, is that each person has their own dance, that joins together to form one huge celebration. No one worries about if they look stupid, or whether they are "doing it right" they just boogie, and trust that the boogies combined form one giant celebration. It looked so free, and so freeing.

You realize as an adult that some of those kids probably didn't have a lot to celebrate, that the band marched in t-shirts and shorts because the school couldn't afford uniforms. But somehow it didn't stop the celebration. It didn't even slow it down. And God lays on your heart that He is asking you to lead the celebration in your life.

When the Craigslist car starts, when the baby sleeps mostly through the night, when you have enough money to pay your bills and a little extra to put in the savings account. Boogie down, praise the Lord, don't worry about what it looks like. Freedom is promised in Christ. So get into that freedom, and lead that celebration.

Oh and in leading the celebration, I wrote this piece for my church's advent book http://www.1027church.com/wp-content/uploads/advent.pdf

A shift in content

Sometimes you come home from a conference in Birmingham where the Lord tells you something so in line with what your heart wants you are afraid to think it might be true. You aren't sure how to make it happen. You tell Him it doesn't make any sense for these things to be true. You tell God He should have either told you before you started a family and your husband applied to graduate school or He shouldn't have told you at all.



But the women at the conference were talking about stepping in to the "God margin." The place where you do a little bit and let God multiply that little bit so that He can produce the desires He gave you in the first place. And yet you only speak the dream out loud to one sister, not wanting to disappoint anyone else when you too get disappointed.



The dream in your heart won't be ignored. God crafted it just for you, and the more you ignore it the more you want it so desperately to be true. So at small group where you pride yourself on being transparent you ask for more faith for doing "something" God has called you to.



They pray, or at least you figure they do because that was Wednesday, and by Friday the Lord has reminded you that in many ways He has created you to create . And there is a blog that has not been touched since Barack Obama was elected President, and don't you think it would be fun to take your dad along for that ride too.



You tell God no one read that blog before, why would they read it now. It does not make any sense for you to start that thing up again. He tells you that really isn't any of your concern. I asked you to be obedient, not to make sense. So here you are, on a Friday morning as your students watch a movie, because it is Friday, you are tired, and this student group learns ridiculously fast as long as you can apply the lesson to a movie.



But also because not only did God ask you to be obedient, He supplied you the free moment to do so. And if only by a millimeter, in your obedience the Lord grows your hope, and your faith, and the dream that He has planted.

Congratulations Senator Obama

The American people have spoken. We will pray for our new President elect and pray that he governs wisely. President elect Obama proved that anyone can be elected President in this the greatest nation on Gods green earth as Mike Medved would say. When he goes awry we will work hard to save him and the country from himself. In his campaign he threw Rev wright, Father Phleger, Kahlide, Farakan, and Resko under the bus and we pray he keeps them there. Meanwhile there is much work to be done to organize and seek to empower his majesties loyal opposition.

Why am I voting for McCain

Why am I voting for John McCain? By Theop

1. John McCain Loves The United States of America. Senator McCain said this in his acceptance speech. It moved me deeply:

I fell in love with my country when I was a prisoner in someone else's. I loved it not just for the many comforts of life here. I loved it for its decency; for its faith in the wisdom, justice and goodness of its people. I loved it because it was not just a place, but an idea, a cause worth fighting for. I was never the same again. I wasn't my own man anymore. I was my country's.

I'm not running for president because I think I'm blessed with such personal greatness that history has anointed me to save our country in its hour of need. My country saved me. My country saved me, and I cannot forget it. And I will fight for her for as long as I draw breath, so help me God.

Barack Obama loves?? Who knows? The press won’t investigate him or run any stories that are not Obama swoon pieces. He has no paper trail and refuses to release documents or talk about significant parts of his life. Bill Ayers head of the Weather underground (who with his wife Bernadet Doren bombed the Capitol, the Pentagon, police stations and the home of a Federal Judge) was “just a guy in the neighborhood” according to Senator Obama. That is all we would know about the relationship if it was up to Obama and the main stream media. Thanks to Stanley Kurtz we know Senator Obama worked closely with Bill Ayers on the Chicago Annenburg Challenge and through the challenge gave millions of dollars (possibly as much as 120 million) intended for improving the education of Chicago’s children to Ayer’s political allies with no improvement in the education of Chicago’s children.
Obama claimed Jeremiah Wright as a mentor in his book The Audacity of Hope (the title taken from one of Wright’s sermons in which Wright says a World in need is caused by the white man’s greed). Now Obama claims that he didn't know that Jeremiah Wright preached black liberation theology (a form of Marxist racial hate disguised as Christianity) and anti-Americanism from his pulpit. Two questions remain about Barack Obama that you never have to ask about John McCain are: Who is this man? and Will he fight for America?

2. John McCain will appoint A Supreme Court that respects the Constitution. John McCain will appoint Supreme Court Justices like Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Scalia. These are Justices who consistently look to the Constitution to decide the Constitution and do not view the Constitution as flexible to be molded at the whim of the Justice. Senator Obama has indicated that he will appoint justices like Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Justice Stevens. These justices view the Constitution as flexible to be bent to their whims and political views. The next president will appoint at least two and possibly four Supreme Court justices and electing Barackc Obama will change the court for more than a generation. There are also a large number of Federal Appeals Court and District Court vacancies and allowing Barack Obama to appoint these judges would be a disaster.

3. John McCain is pro-life. The National Abortion Rights Action League web site says this. (Pro-life language has been substituted for the pro abortion language found on the web site)
“Sen. John McCain served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1983 to 1986 and in the U.S. Senate from 1987 to present. During his four years in the House, then-Rep. McCain cast 11 votes on abortion and other life issues. Ten of these votes were Pro-life. In the Senate, Sen. McCain has cast 119 votes on abortion and other life issues, 115 of which were Pro-life.”
Senator Obama is not just pro-choice but pro-abortion. Robert P. George, McCormick Professor of Jurisprudence, at Princeton University in an article exploring Senator Obama’s abortion policies said, “Barack Obama is the most extreme pro-abortion candidate ever to seek the office of President of the United States. He is the most extreme pro-abortion member of the United States Senate. Indeed, he is the most extreme pro-abortion legislator ever to serve in either house of the United States Congress.”

Professor George continues:

“He (Obama) has promised that ''the first thing I'd do as President is sign the Freedom of Choice Act'' (known as FOCA). This proposed legislation would create a federally guaranteed ''fundamental right'' to abortion through all nine months of pregnancy, including, as Cardinal Justin Rigali of Philadelphia has noted in a statement condemning the proposed Act, ''a right to abort a fully developed child in the final weeks for undefined 'health' reasons.'' In essence, FOCA would abolish virtually every existing state and federal limitation on abortion, including parental consent and notification laws for minors, state and federal funding restrictions on abortion, and conscience protections for pro-life citizens working in the health-care industry-protections against being forced to participate in the practice of abortion or else lose their jobs. The pro-abortion National Organization for Women has proclaimed with approval that FOCA would ''sweep away hundreds of anti-abortion laws [and] policies.''

There are many other reasons to vote for John McCain but these are sufficient. If these reasons don’t convince you think of a Liberal Democratic Congress headed by Nancy Pelossi and Harry Reed ( currently with a 15% approval rating) operating unrestrained by a President Obama, the most liberal Senator in the Senate. A Senator who has never bucked his party on any signifigant issue.

See you at the polls.

Theop

Barrack Obama New Party Member

Leave it to New Zeland when U>S> media won't do their job.

Trevor Loudon in this post http://www.newzeal.blogspot.com (go there for the pictures) from New Zealand provides strong evidence that Barrack Obama was a member of a Socialist party The Illinois new party.

Notice Trevor is practically begging Journalists to report this information. Remember the Brouhahah that was made over the media fabrication that Sarah was a member of the Alaskan Independence party which was a media fabrication. Now they won't report Obama's membership in this way left party. Senator O'bama is no moderate. The Media should but won't do their job.
Thursday, October 23, 2008

Obama File 41 Obama Was a New Party Member-Documentary Evidence

This post is for journalists who care about the future of their country more than their careers.

I have previously posted about Barack Obama's involvement in the socialist led Illinois New Party here, here and here.

Below are scans from New Party News Spring 1996.

They prove that Barack Obama was a member of the Illinois New Party and was endorsed by them in his 1996 Illinois State Senate race.

Front page-scanned from a photocopy


Front page close up-scanned from a photocopy


Front page ultra close up-scanned from a photocopy


Note that the text refers to Barack Obama as a New Party member, while Willie Delgado is only "NP endorsed"

The New Party clearly drew a distinction. Obama was on on the wrong side of the dividing line.

Page 2, scanned from a photocopy.


Page 2 closeup-scanned from the original.


The New Party was the creation of the quasi-Marxist Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) and the radical community organisation ACORN. The Communist Party splinter group Committees of Correspondence (CoC) was also involved.

I quote from Chicago DSA's New Ground of September/October 1995

The political entourage included Alderman Michael Chandler, William Delgado, chief of staff for State Rep Miguel del Valle, and spokespersons for State Sen. Alice Palmer, Sonya Sanchez, chief of staff for State Sen. Jesse Garcia, who is running for State Rep in Garcia's District; and Barack Obama, chief of staff for State Sen. Alice Palmer. Obama is running for Palmer's vacant seat...Although ACORN and SEIU Local 880 were the harbingers of the NP there was a strong presence of CoC and DSA (15% DSA)... Four political candidates were "there" seeking NP support."

Here is part of an undated New Party document probably from 1995. Scanned from a photocopy.


It lists approximately one hundred"community leaders, organizers, unionists, retirees, scholars, artists, parents, students, doctors, writers and other activists who are building the NP."

Those listed include;

Elaine Bernard-A Labour academic and prominent DSA member.

Noam Chomsky-Linguist and activist, member of both DSA and CoC.

Barbara Ehrenreich-Author, activist and DSA leader. Early this year Ehrenreich was one of the four founders of Progressives for Obama

Bill Fletcher-Former Maoist, a labour activist and leading DSA member. Early this year Fletcher was one of the four founders of Progressives for Obama

Maude Hurd-Longtime ACORN president. Awarded for her work by Boston DSA. ACORN is heavily involved in the Obama campaign.

Manning Marable-A founder of DSA and a leader of CoC. Regarded as a driving force within the New Party. Now an Obama supporter.

Frances Fox Piven-A senior DSA member. Regarded as the brains behind ACORN. Piven is now an endorser of the Progressives for Obama website.

Raphael Pizzaro-New York labour activist and former CPUSA member. An official of both CoC and DSA.

Gloria Steinem-Author and senior DSA member An Obama supporter and volunteer.

Cornel West-Academic and prominent DSA member. West now serves as an advisor to the Obama campaign.

Quentin Young-Chicago doctor, prominent DSA member. Quentin Young is a neighbour, friend and supporter of Barack Obama. he attended the famous 1995 meeting in the home of Bill Ayers and Bernadine Dohrn where Barack Obama was introduced by Alice Palmer as the chosen successor to her Illinois State Senate seat.

Carl Davidson, former Chicago CoC National Committee member, New Party activist, associate of Barack Obama and friend of Bill Ayers, now serves as Progressives for Obama webmaster.

The originals of these documents are held in the Washington DC area. I personally viewed them when I visited Washington in May 2008.

If any journalist, media organization or publisher would like to view the original documents they may email Trevor Loudon, to be considered-address is on the side bar under New Zeal Research Associates.

This is not a football game

I was raised to root for the Big Ten. My parents do it, and so do my grandparents. In fact my grandmother regularly throws a fit when the Big Ten team inevitably loses the Rose Bowl. But we root for them anyway. And any call that goes toward the other team is a completely idiotic call and the Big Ten always gets hosed. Always. I root for my favorite professional football team in much the same way. Any call against them is crazy, any call for them is justified. Anyone who likes their rivals is a complete idiot.

I am okay with this view when it comes to football. I am genuinely concerned that the majority of my friends view politics the same way. Anyone who roots for the other side (whichever side that may be) is a complete idiot. On facebook this is particularly rampant. I don't think anyone could watch the VP debate with an open mind and say that either side completely embarrased themselves, yet my friends do. Nothing is going to get fixed in this country if we don't stop looking at America as a football game. That way half the country is always losing.

Enough is Enough

In response to an AP story that calls Sarah Racist for mentioning the O'bama Ayers connection Powerline posted a rebutal. I posted my own response and rebutal in Powerline's forum.

It is reposted below:

The MSM and the Obama campaign must be terrified of the Senator’s connections with Bill Ayers and rightly so. What would the MSM do if John McCain had an association with an ex-Ku Klux Klanner (Senator Byrd excluded for obvious reasons) who had bombed black churches escaped justice due to technicalities, admitted the crime (guilty as hell free as a bird) and is completely unrepentant? What if that Ku Klux Klanner had launched John McCain’s political career by having a fund raising party in the Klanner’s own home along with the Kluxer’s wife who also bombed Black Churches? These associations would disqualify him or anyone else from getting near the White House. As an American I would want to know the who what where and when of theses associations.

I would want statements from the candidate that did not misrepresent the relationship (just a man who lives in my neighborhood). Senator Obama could have at least added, who I happened to have help distribute 100 million dollars to mutual friends and political allies in a little deal we called the Anenberg Challenge. “Palling around” does not mean that your pals with the person it means that you have a long association with said person. Senator Obama obviously had a long and (for the Senator) fruitful relationship with Bill Ayers. Bill Ayers launched the Senator’s political career at a fund raising dinner at Ayer’s house. Saying this was palling around out loud makes Sarah a racist? Only when you are so afraid these facts will come to the attention of the American people and so in the tank for Obama you want to put any discussion of Bill Ayers off limits.

One thing both camps and the deMSMs obviously agree on is Bill Ayers is not a person who a person who wants to be President should be associating himself with. That is why the Obama campaign has tried to hide Bill Ayers under a rock with the assistance of the Media. Thanks to alternate media and no thanks to the MSM the facts of the association are clear at least as far as public records can make them. Three facts are all you need to know:

1. Bill Ayers is an unrepentant bomber of the pentagon and other places by his own admission.

2. Barrack Obama had relations with Ayers that were extensive. and;

3. Senator Obama covered up and misrepresented this relationship to the American People with the help of the deMSM.

Since the facts can no longer be hidden the NYT has tried a whitewash and the deMSM are now calling it racism to make inquiry or (state the obvious on the subject) out of bounds. The big question is are the American people going to put up with the association, the cover up, the whitewash, and now the attempt to put the topic off limits or are they going to say Senator Obama enough is enough?