Austin

I was reading Captivating this morning and the chapter was about how Jesus longs to romance us. The book talked about different ways that Jesus whispers his love for us--summer rain, a good novel, a crisp fall morning. But I was thinking...I think Jesus whispers his love for me through music, just as much as those other things.

As I ruminated on that idea, a song came into my head. A country song from about 4 years ago, Austin. It's about a girl who leaves her lover abruptly, but when she calls him a year later this is what she hears:

If you're calling 'bout the car I sold it
If this is Tuesday night I'm bowling
If you've got something to sell you're wasting your time
I'm not buying
If it's anybody else, wait for the tone, you know what to do
P.S. If this is Austin, I still love you

Seems a bit cheese at first, but then think about it. A year later, the lover still holds out hope that his love will return to him. Isn't that how Jesus is? Doesn't he wait longingly for our return? Doesn't he drop little messages of love for us to find? Even if we don't feel actively pursued, he is still there. His presence is constant, his desire for us unchanging.

Today, I will happily hum Austin as I feel the love of the Lord pursuing me. His love is precious and always readily available to me! How sweet it is to being love by you, Jesus!

"Put Together" Katie

During an emotional breakdown this weekend (partially induced by weird hormones) I said something extremely insightful to Herb. I said "Everyone wants me to be 'put together' Katie because she's more fun and easier to be around, but sometimes God has called me to be 'falling apart' Katie, and that needs to be alright." This statement may not make complete sense to some of my male counterparts (it didn't make complete sense to Herb), but essentially, as a woman, and as a victim of Satan's lying messages, this is a powerful realization. Allow me to explain...

The world, the church, role models have taught me that the goal is to appear to have it together. Don't let anyone see the brokenness of your soul because they won't think as highly of you anymore. And I have strongly clung to that statement for a very long time. I believed this partly because I was afraid to be weak, and partly because I feared if anyone saw the broken me they wouldn't love me anymore. Then of course there's the fear that if I truly allowed myself to admit the pain, then I would be covered by it.

All of this seemed a little muddled in my head the last few days as I mulled it over. But then God, in His amazing timing and wisdom, plopped this paragraph in the middle of the Captivating page I was reading.

"Part of the reason women are so tired is because we are spending so much energy trying to 'keep it together.' So much energy devoted to suppressing the pain and keeping a good appearance. 'I'm gonna harden my heart,' sang Rindy Ross. 'I'm gonna swallow my tears.' A terrible, costly way to live your life. Part of this is driven by fear that the pain will overwhelm us. That we will be consumed by our sorrow. It's an understandable fear--but it is no more true than the fear we had of the dark as children. Grief, dear sisters, is good. Grief helps to heal our hearts. Why, Jesus himself was a 'Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief' (Isa. 53:3 NKJV)."

I read this and my heart screamed "That's it! That's what I'm trying to say!" Does this mean I succumb to despair and hopelessness? Absolutely not. Does this mean I let myself wallow in pity? No way. But does this mean that I am real with myself and the world that I'm broken? Indeed it does. It's okay if I'm not "put together" Katie. It's okay if I'm wounded and sinful and in the process of healing.

So I'm not going to exhaust myself striving to show a tough exterior to the world. I don't have that kind of energy to give. Instead I'm going to be honest with myself and with those around me. Is this easier? No way. It may be harder, much harder, but this time the work is that of the Lord's to heal me, and less of my wrestling to keep up a front. And as for others' response to my new found unguarded self, "their response is not my responsibility." (Thanks mom for the positive nag!)

It's About Time...

"It's about time. Why don't you go outside or something? Nerd." This is the quote that echoes from Herb's computer each time he logs out, and I feel somewhat akin to it these days. It's about time for a lot of things in my life. Things like going outside, cherishing each breath, reading a good book, cooking a new recipe, and blogging are amongst the many things that were put on the back burner in the last nine weeks. (Ah, how my life is counted by quarters!? I thought that was supposed to end after college!) Alas...it is time...

So what have I to offer you? Just like Aaron Mertz said on his latest blog, not much. But I will say that I am alive to tell the tale. This quarter wore on my heart, on my mind, on my time and on my relationships. It is amazing how important time is to nurturing everything. Time heals all wounds. I'm beginning to think that is less in reference to getting over a break up and more in reference to time invested in healing things broken from inattention.

So my plans for break are as follows: spend time with Herb. Not just time caught between essays graded or rooms cleaned, but genuine, actual face to face time. Two, spend time with Jesus. Nothing like some good praise music, the beach and good fellowship to remind me that the Lord reigns. Three, spend time for me. Do things I love to do and not just do them as an afterthought. This includes cooking a new recipe, watching some Diamondbacks baseball, talking on the phone with friends, sleeping and chilling in my PJs and reading absolute trash (not romance novels or anything amoral, but rather something that isn't considered a classic that I have to conjure interesting discussion questions for as I read.) This seems like very little, but I promise you I don't have enough time to accomplish all the things listed here. But I will aspire to them.

First step, heading to CA with my mom Thursday. Praise music required, beach time required (which is beauty, required), fellowship required. Melinda will join us on Friday which will add friend time and Disneyland time, all very necessary to rejuvinating my heart. Hopefully these steps will be the beginning of reminders as to why I do what I do. I need reminders as to who God has created me to be. I've been feeling awfully much like a machine who does things for people, and that, I know, is not my heart. So I'm looking for a chance to rediscover my heart.

So, I've found, it IS about time. It's about how I allot my time, how my time reflects my heart, and how time will heal. It's about time for me to let my time be unassigned with the only purpose being to allow God to fill my time with His purposes. So I'm sorry it's taken me a while to write, but it was definitely about time.

Heroes

We all have them. Those men and women in our lives who we see as perfect. The models of upright behavior, encompassing all we think to be valuable and worthwhile in this world. They may not have super-powers like the heroes on TV, but they handle life with a grace and peace that makes them seem super-human.

But at sometime in our lives those heroes fall. When I teach loss of innocence we spend a long time discussing the first time you realized someone you admired was flawed. Their examples, and mine, are often childlike. Their parents lied to them, their friends offended them, their teachers snubbed them. The ideas are there, they understand how a piece of themselves is lost in that moment; their innocence is scarred and they can't return to the way things were before. That is how I feel today, but instead of feeling childlike, this pain is truly mature; a piece of my innocence and my believed good in the world has been wounded. I know God can heal, but there is a little piece of my heart that fell away yesterday never to return.

Since I was thirteen, I considered one couple to be the most beautiful example of a Godly marriage. They pursued one another, they romanced one another, they centered God in the midst of their marriage. Enduring hard times, they looked to God and each other. Raising their children, they taught respect and love for God and others. While I journaled about their marriage at age 13, Herb and I actively pursued their mentorship throughout our relationship. We had even discussed moving to Phoenix to have an active model of effective parenting.

Not only did they function as a mentor couple to both Herb and me, but they also served the role of individual mentors to us both. I sought the wife as a Godly example of wife, mother and woman, and Herb sought the husband as an exemplary husband, father and man. They were our everyday living, breathing, loving heroes.

Yesterday the news hit that this couple is pursuing divorce as a result of long, destructive infidelity on the part of the husband. In true beauty the wife longs to reconcile and to hold their marriage together, but in all sadness the husband wants no part of that. She said to me yesterday, "Katie, he is no longer the man we knew." I admire that she still desires to make amends, to choose love and the institution of marriage, but some things aren't always our own choice in marriage. It takes two to make decisions in a marriage and that includes the ending of a marriage.

My heart is broken for this couple, for this family. I've spent much time in prayer for them in the last 16 hours, and I will continue to pray. But as I said to Herb yesterday, "This isn't just about them, it's about us as well." And it is. Our paragon of marriage has crumbled. A place where we once placed our hope has disappeared. God is showing us that all men are fallible but He is faithful and perfect. But that is a painful revelation and we ache as a result.

Herb's pain is twofold. Not only did he lose an model of marriage, but he also lost a personal hero. A once perceived man of God, an inspiration to Herb's heart and focus, has fallen from grace. There is much pain here in this house, much grieving.

It's funny to call it grieving, but yesterday it felt very similar to experiencing a death. I was numb, then I was angry, then I was sad...and so on and so forth. So today, we continue to grieve the loss of the fallen heroes, but we also must recognize the reasons why they must fall. If we continue to put our faith and hope in man, we will always be disappointed. This is a fallen world full of flawed men and women. We must put our faith and hope in God, our Sustainer and our Comfort. And while this situation offers great wisdom and insight, I lost a piece of my childhood, a piece of what was once innocent. No more leaping off of tall buildings in a single bound, instead I take the stairs and look to the Lord to keep my weary legs a-walking.

"Those Damn Dawson's River Kids..."

Okay, a somewhat vulgar title, but come on, great 10 Things I Hate About You quote! And seeing as I intend to talk about Dawson's Creek I found it only fitting. Now I know some of you know of my love of The Creek, as I so affectionately refer to it, and judge my poor choice in television watching, but I still maintain that everyone is allowed their own guilty pleasure and this just happens to be mine. There is something about teenage angst and contrived witty repartee that really just make me quite happy and content. I also think that there's a bit of nostalgia attached to the show seeing as I started to watch it the first year Herb and I were married, which is actually appropriate because that leads me to the real point of this blog.

Today I watched my all-time favorite episode of The Creek while working out. This episode is all about nostalgia and helping friends out in a jam. In "A Weekend in the Country" the assorted characters come together to spend a weekend at Joey's families' newly opened Bed and Breakfast to help impress a critic. Sounds cheesy, yes, but in the scenes to follow, they all end up gathering around the fire sharing smells which trigger wonderful memories for them. This scene alone is wonderful as each person shares their most powerful smells and memories. My favorites though are Gram's tale of sitting by the fire every night for 46 years with her husband reading aloud to her; she explains that every night he would fall asleep by the fire and she would watch him sleep, knowing that she truly loved him. The other story that hits a chord is when Joey shares that bacon sizzling reminds her of her mother and her mother's dream of opening a B&B. If you are a Creek fan, you know Joey lost her mom to cancer when she was young. Ah, yes, sappy content, but it gets better...

My favorite scene echoes with the sound of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" (a fabulous song for powerful movie and TV moments a la Love Actually) as Pacey sits by the fire watching Joey sleep. His actions echo Grams' words about her husband and we know in dramatic irony that Pacey truly loves Joey. I know it's totally intended to tug on my heart strings, but it does in a powerful way I can't explain. After watching this episode I just feel more optimistic about life. I don't know if it's the simplistic view of what love is or if it's the warm feeling of cuddling next to the fire sharing stories, but this episode makes me feel at home, in the safe, warm kind of way.

(By the way, my favorite memories triggered by smell come from the smell of Ice Plant climbing the hills in Palos Verdes, CA. The moment this smell enters my nostrils I'm in the comfort of my grandparent's home surrounded by family and love. There's nothing like that smell!)

So I start my day off with a little more comfort, an echo of hope in my heart. Even if it is silly, I think it is important to take comfort and peace where they come. Embrace those moments of hope, no matter how minor, for they are intended to lift our hearts.

What kind of sandwich are YOU?

Just thought I'd spice up the blog with an interactive session! Go to the hyperlink below, answer the questions, then post your type of sandwich and description in the comments section.
Here are my results:

You Are a Turkey Sandwich

Conservative and a bit shy, you tend to stick with what you know and trust. You are very introverted, and you prefer to blend in whenever possible. Though you may be hard to know well, anyone who does know you considers you a true friend. Your best friend: The Ham Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Tuna Fish Sandwich

What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

The F Word

So being home all week and weekend didn't help my writing productivity seeing as I've wanted to write this particular blog since last Sunday. But I've decided to attempt it anyway, even though the idea isn't as fresh in my mind. So here goes...

I am not usually a fan of the F word. I find it vulgar, unoriginal and generally offensive. Of all the swear words, it makes my skin crawl and I feel a strong aversion to the actual meaning of the word. But there are times, yes there are times, when I feel that it might be the only word to express my emotions, and last Sunday was one of those times.

It started as a normal Katie day. If you've spent any time with me you know that I am a klutz to match all klutzes. Herb is often afraid of my love of cooking for fear that I might cut off a finger or burn the nerves in my hand off. So in true Katie style, I'm standing in my parents shower (we were in Phoenix for D-backs games) grabbing the towel to dry off when the world goes to pieces...well really just the towel rack. As I grabbed the towel, the rack completely came apart sending the rod sailing through the air to land vertically on the top of my foot. So now I'm standing there naked, on one foot crying out in pain. My foot swelled and there's still a gorgeous bruise there 7 days later. I thought that this was bad enough, but I refrained from using the four letter F expletive. It just didn't seem appropriate at that moment in time (perhaps because I am developing some sort of parental filter, perhaps).

(And here I make an addendum, I would just like to say in my defense that while I'm accident prone, in this particular situation it was wholly not my fault that the rod came apart at that moment. In this particular case, some sort of cosmic force was out to impale me with bathroom fixtures and I was not seeking this injury of my own accord. Now that I've defended myself, I will present instance two where I was definitely responsible for my own fate.)

Sunday night, Herb and I found ourselves home round about 7 o'clock after a gruelling D-backs loss. I dropped Herb and our worldly goods off at the house and hopped back in the car to head for the grocery store. As I was chatting with Melinda on the phone, I reached in to grab a jar of tomato sauce from the shelf and as I pulled my hand away, low and behold my finger scraped across the top of the shelf. I had effectively ripped open the knuckle on my pointer finger and now I was bleeding everywhere. I went to first aid at the front of the store where I bled all over the counter and finally managed to get a band-aid around my finger. I hadn't eaten in 6 hours so I was beginning to feel a little light headed, but hey, I'm me, and I went back and finished my grocery shopping. It was at this moment, as my finger was throbbing, my foot was throbbing, and I felt like I was going to vomit that I felt the F word to be appropriate. I could find no other word to truly express my frustration and pain and anger at my predicament.

It didn't sound very ladylike and it wasn't very couth, but it was all I could conjure in that moment of weakness. I will continue to dissuade others from using this vulgar term as an unoriginal way to speak (you know the types, the types who want to use it as every part of speech because they think it makes them sound gangster, or whatever). But I will not begrudge those who need to use it as I did, in a moment of frailty when there are just no more words available to your brain. In that very rare case, I say, use that vulgar word and it will fit in just that moment and that moment only. And honestly, it feels pretty good for letting out all of those frustrations, but I can't imagine it feels that good all the time. I think the guilt would get to me...I am a role model for language and for moral behavior in general, and that word just lacks imagination. I want my words to have power, positive power, and the F word just falls short.

Maintenance

For very valid and worthwhile reasons I have been in Phoenix for the last three weekends. First to comfort my sister, second to see Tim and Faith and this weekend we have had the chance to go to two D-backs games with old friends (Aaron Mertz) and new (some friends from work). What great opportunities for fun! But at the same time I am growing weary. There is something about not being in my house on the weekends and not being in my house during the week that causes a great deal of stress. I've decided what is lacking is maintenance.

The things that we do on a day to day basis that allow us to maintain our lives are super important, but we don't really realize their importance until we don't have the time to do those things anymore. For example, every Saturday I like to take the bills that have come throughout the week and file them away. Because I haven't seen my house on a Saturday recently my basket full of bills is overflowing. I haven't been able to upkeep my house in the manner which I've come accustomed. Not that my house would be perfect or clean, but I might be able to see the pattern on my tablecloth.

I also haven't been able to maintain my sleep pattern. If you know anything about me, you know I love sleep. In fact, I consider it one of my greatest joys to climb into bed every night, I can't stay awake past midnight to save my life, and if I don't get enough sleep I don't cope with everyday life very well. Usually I aim for eight hours on a week night and then I catch up on the weekends, but as of late I haven't had my catch up hours and my ability to cope is waning. So it's time to get back onto a sleep maintenance schedule, tending to my body (and thereby my soul) to help me deal better with everyday life.

School Katie has suffered as well. I like to do some upkeep activities on the weekends, enter in spare grades, make sure I have lesson pieces assembled, and keep up with my readings for class. As a result of being absent from my apartment, I have had hectic weeks trying to catch up on these maintenance activities while also trying to accomplish my weekly tasks as well. I need some time to maintain my school life so as to keep my sanity during the work week.

But I think the hardest for me to not maintain is my relationship with Herb. I try to use the weekends to recharge and reconnect with him. We like to spend Saturday mornings relaxing and connecting, and we haven't had that opportunity. We've also been trying to play catch up during the week, but with Herb's return to school it's going to be more challenging. So that increases the importance of maintenance in our relationship.

All of this to say, it's time to stay home for a while (at least for a weekend) and work on maintaining my life. It's time to get ahead instead of play catch up. And maybe, just maybe it'll give me space to blog more. (Sorry for slacking.) Who would've known that maintenance was so important? Without it the structure begins to deteriorate and fall apart, but with it the structure continues to stand strong. So here's to maintaining and standing strong.

Faith and Tim

We're on a first name basis now that I stood four feet away from them Friday night at their concert! That's right, my amazing Mom bought my sister 6th row tickets to the show and my awesome sister invited me to come along! I happen to think that Kevyn is the only person in the world I could have truly, truly enjoyed the show with (and probably my mom) because we have such a deep love for these two performers. I think Kevyn is a bigger Tim fan, and I'm the bigger Faith fan, but we both love them both. And more than loving their performance and their music, we love the two of them as a couple. I'm sure this isn't a rare thing amongst country fans, but their deep affection for each other as evidenced in their music and on stage are just inspiring.



It's hard to explain the most amazing parts of this whole evening because it all was priceless, but I'll give it a shot. Both Faith and Tim, but especially Faith, are the "most beautiful people you'll ever see up close" (to quote Never Been Kissed). Faith's beauty just resonates from her voice (still gives me goosebumps to think about), to her graceful movements about the stage, to her tender way with the fans. I cried when she squatted down to speak with a little girl who had made her a picture and in response Faith took off her scarf and placed it around the little girl's neck. Such goodness of heart! To my great joy she sang "Lucky One" while on our spoke of the stage! (The stage has four spokes, and we could see three of them--the fourth was beyond our sight--but the one closest to us allowed us to be inches away from touching Faith's hand! In fact I took a rather ungraceful fall in attempts of touching her hand. Oh well, that is truly the Katie way of doing things.)






Tim is one of the sexiest men I have seen live and in person. Not only is he gorgeous to look at (let's be honest, what man in a cowboy hat with a guitar isn't?) but his voice just seals the deal. We were so close we could see all three of his tattoos (a cross, Faith's name and a Jesus fish) and his belt chain, which had the initials of Faith and his three daughters. Talk about intimacy! Tim is an amazing performer because he gets the crowd all fired up. We were a very lively crowd and as a result he did "The Ride" version of "Real Good Man", which isn't an every night occurrence. And of course I completely teared up when he sang "Lay Me Down". Those weren't the only tears; Tim, like Faith, has a great heart, and he serenaded an older woman sitting near the stage. As she sat mesmerized by his attention and gorgeous voice, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. What a once in a lifetime experience! On our side of the stage Tim sang "She's My Kind of Rain", one of my favorites! Ah, I again have goosebumps.











But I think the highlights came whenever they sang together. "It's Your Love" was my favorite, but they opened with their own version of "Chasing Cars" that was awesome! "Angry All the Time" is one of my favorite songs, so them singing that together was amazing. But the most sensual moment of the concert was when they rose up out of the stage on chairs facing one another. Sharing a mic they sang "I Need You". While Tim sang, Faith looked lovingly into his face. While Faith sang, Tim leaned his head onto her shoulder. And as Faith held out the last note for over a minute the tension mounted between the two, and as the note faded away they shared a passionate and fiery kiss! So hot! I've decided that the best way to a steamy marriage is to sing duets together!







So thank you Kevyn and thank you Mom for this once in a lifetime experience full of goosebumps, tears and singing at the top of my lungs! I will never forget it as long as I live!

Essays, Done!

I was a bit worried about my stack of 110 essays when I hopped in the car to spend the weekend with my sister. But my philosophy this year (or the one I'm trying desperately to adhere to) is that God will provide the time I need to get things done and the rest I need to care for my body. So although I worried, I hopped in the car and let it go.

Worry crept back Monday night as I sat down to grade and only got through 30 essays. How was I ever going to finish the rest of the stack by Thursday? I have so many other things scheduled in my week, things I'm not willing to give up (Bible study with Lori and Young Marrieds Bible study, dinner with Jon and Kirsten who just moved back to town, phone chat with Lindsay), but all of these essays...

Yesterday I became the essay grader wonder woman! With uncanny speed I read through 80 essays yesterday and still managed to get to bed on time. This must be God! He supplied for my need. He knew my schedule; He knew that He had important places for me to be and relationships to build on this week and He took care of my worry. He also was aware of my new philosophy and my propensity to give up if I don't see results, and He showed me results.

God so intimately knows my heart and needs. He is well aware of my schedule and what needs to be done, and He will take care of it if I put my faith in Him. So I'm elated to say that my essays are done and God has cleared my schedule for more important things, like my relationships with people. God so totally rocks, dude! (If you missed the Disneyland reference there, you need to come on our next trip! I'm sure it's on the horizon!)

Mean People Suck

This weekend two very selfish people broke my sister's heart. Her ex-boyfriend Jason betrayed her by having a girlfriend on the side, and Kev's best friend somehow made the situation all about her and shut Kevyn down. After traveling to Phoenix to spend the weekend with a discouraged and disheartened Kevyn, all I could think is that "mean people suck". Kevyn is a very loyal and selfless friend, which are such honorable qualities in a companion, and unfortunately the people around her returned her love with selfishness. I do not want to make this situation about me because it's not, it's about my broken-hearted sister, but I know what Kevyn is going through.

One of the most awful parts about walking this sinful earth is that we are bound to be wounded. The imperfect beings that we are surrounded by are just as selfish as we are. And even when we seek to be honoring and loving to those around us, we each fall short. As I have mentioned before, it is so easy to make things about ourselves because we live in our own head 24/7 and our own emotions and thoughts are so real to us. Often we forget or fail to see what matters most is caring about others, stepping outside of ourselves and taking care of those in need.

Kevyn was deeply wounded by the selfishness of others this weekend. It left her with a sense of hopelessness and weariness. Her pain so shielded her eyes from good that she wondered what joy there would be in returning to everyday tasks. What a toll that takes on her soul and on the souls of those who care for Kevyn.

The amazing gift for those outside of the situation is that we are able to see that God has a plan. In the midst of pain and sorrow, I believe it's sometimes too difficult for anyone in the experience to see, including Kevyn. But I do believe that Jesus is using these mean people to continue to cultivate a faithfulness and loyalty in my sister that will make her an even better friend to those who come along. Kevyn's unique experiences allow her to walk alongside so many others that the rest of us can't even begin to relate to. My sister has a gift and Jesus is just honing that gift.

In this book I've been reading (The Bait of Satan...to name drop one more time), the author says that the sign of true maturity is when we withstand offense and allow it to strengthen us. In the imperfections of others, God wants to cultivate a truer you. It is in the living through, the dealing with and the mending of the offense that God reveals more of Himself in us. "Love forgets wrongs so that there is hope for the future." I pray Kevyn will find this hope because I know she has so much to live for and Jesus has so much in store for her life.

So while "mean people suck", and they truly do, it would be a shame to let the "mean people suck" the life and hope out of us. That gives them too much power; it allows them to win. Thus I hope that as Jesus continues to comfort Kevyn and lift her out of sorrow that she would have eyes to see the hope, the love that can be wrought out of mean people. The hope lies not in those people who have hurt her, but in herself and the gorgeous creation God is making her to be.

Oh I Love a Rainy Night

If any of you have been paying attention to Tucson weather, you know we've had thunderstorms and rain almost every day this week. While others are frustrated and stuck in their cars in a wash somewhere, I fling open the blinds, grab a good book and listen and watch the rain. Every since I was a kid I have loved the rain. My Memere still talks about when I used to visit her house in Illinois and sit outside on the front porch swing to watch the rain. Something about my nature is drawn to this amazing aspect of nature!

Because of this I can't fully blame my students for asking me to go play in the rain on the second day of school! It began to pour and they begged to trounce outside and get all wet and muddy. While I gave them a dirty look and disdained the thought of letting my students run amok, I did understand the intense desire to immerse themselves in the beauty and the glorious smell because I had that desire as well.

The smell of rain is intoxicating to me! If I walk outside and it smells like "dirt" (or creosote for those smarty pants who actually know where the smell originates) I get giddy, like a student on the last day of school! I can't wait to stand outside with my mouth open wide, and I couldn't care if the sun would never shine. This blessed smell and the presence of rain this week has been an awesome reminder of God's blessing.

Many songs and thereby verses in the Bible refer to God's love raining down on us, and to me that is a powerful image. As rain pours from the sky and drenches my skin, so can the Lord's blessings drench my soul if I allow. I'm want to allow Him to cover me, to rain down His love. His physical reminder of this important metaphor has prompted me to remember His covering this week, despite circumstances.

So despite the hole in our roof that caused a leaky ceiling these past days, I hope for more rain! I can't get enough of the amazing beauty of water pouring from the sky and lightening flashing before my eyes. What grace! What splendor! Thus I will continue to fling open my blinds, curl up with a good book and enjoy the rain.

My First Graduate

I promised you all an amazing story, and I do not want to fail you. Thus I will wait to pontificate about Harry Potter 7 (plus this way I won't spoil it for those still in the midst), and instead I will tell you the story that brought my heart back to teaching this week. (For the purpose of anonymity I will change the name of my student to Brad. Some of you may have heard pieces of this story before with the students' real name, but I feel like it's important to protect his story.)

Brad was my student last year in both my Sophomore and Junior classes. He had previously failed Sophomore English and was currently a Junior. In the first weeks, Brad and I had a bit of a battle in trying to gain footing with each other. Brad liked to speak his mind, which I love, but I didn't want it to be at the sacrifice of order or respect in my classroom. We found common ground quickly and developed a safe way for him to share ideas with his classmates.

In the first quarter I give my Sophomores the assignment of writing a narrative about a personal loss. Brad wrote me a nine page paper about how he lost his brother to abuse and then to arrest. Brad's story was very moving and I could hear his voice clearly in his writing, but it lacked in some of the other requirements of the paper. So I marked him down with a long note explaining that I appreciated his transparency. When he received his paper back he was visibly upset. But I sat down and explained to him my reasoning and we worked through the essay so he could revise it for a better grade. It was a major triumph for Brad and me.

One of the unique qualities about Brad is that he hated flies, I mean hated them. He couldn't stand being in their presence. Being out in Vail, we had many flies in our classroom, and Brad couldn't help but swat them down and kill them. He wouldn't just do this if they were in his vicinity, he would do it if they were even on his radar. The first time I was observed and this took place, I tried to "take control" of the situation and yelled for Brad to stop. He was so disheartened that I had yelled at him, he wouldn't speak the rest of class. It was at this point I realized that I had to be the teacher I needed to be no matter how it looked to the outside observer. I apologized to Brad, and we agreed to communicate more clearly our expectations of each other.

The next time I was observed I was specifically praised for how I interacted with Brad. Even though unorthodox my assistant principal saw my interactions with Brad as a great breakthrough for this student. I was so uplifted by the conversation and reassured in believing that I was going to have a hand in helping Brad succeed. Just five hours later, Brad made an extremely poor decision that resulted in his long term suspension from my school. I was broken hearted. I cried and couldn't help but think that I had lost this battle. When I talked with Brad he seemed to believe this was the end of his educational experience, and I made great attempts to find a way for him to continue. My personal attempts failed, and I heard nothing from Brad for the next 7 months.

Tuesday afternoon my assistant principal paged me over the loud speaker. I called him and he intimated that there was a visitor heading my way. As soon as Brad opened the door, face glowing, smile spread across his face, I knew he was proud to share something with me. We hugged and when we pulled apart he slowly opened a black folder that was in his right hand. Inside was a diploma from an alternative school! Not only had Brad finished his high school education but he had finished it a year early! Tears welled in his eyes and mine as he told me that he graduated on June 9th, the first person in his family to walk across a stage and receive a diploma. He grinned as he told me how he danced in his cap and gown as he crossed the stage. His pride beamed from every corner of his being as he sought my reassurance that he had done well. All I could muster was "I'm SO proud of you" and it tumbled out of my mouth about every minute.

He told me of his plans to join the Navy, of his ability to conquer his debilitating addiction in order to enlist. He asked if I'd write him a recommendation, waiting with bated breath for my answer. "Of course!" I exclaimed! There is no greater honor than to write that letter! Then we both teared again as it dawned on me that Brad is my first ever graduate! This year would have been the first for my students to walk across a stage, but Brad got to do it first! He gave me a copy of his diploma, and I now proudly display it on my wall. What a cool distinction for me and for him!

I spent twenty minutes with Brad, but it was a life altering moment. As he left, I told him to remember, even when his drill sergeants are yelling in his face, that I'm proud of him and nothing will ever change that. Nothing will. He rose from difficult circumstances and made something great of his life, and I played a small role in that triumph. For that I am eternally grateful. To bear witness of a young life finding meaning in this world makes my job amazing. I feel privileged to work with kids like Brad, to be a voice reminding them of their worth. What a blessing! I have no more words to describe my emotions right now except to say that I have an awesome job, and God has given me these students to change my life. I am blessed.

First Day of School

Greetings all! I have an amazing story from this week to tell, but it requires more detail than I have time for at the moment. So for now I'll stick to the topic at hand, the first day of school.

Despite my overwhelmedness at the arrival of this week and my severe amounts of stress in regards to this school year, I am really excited today! For the first time in my teaching career I'm excited, instead of nervous, to have the kids show up today. I'm excited to see their smiling faces. I'm excited to begin a new year. I'm excited to delve into new topics and ideas with these kids! I actually slept well last night (only one schoolmare regarding not having rosters printed) and feel ready to face today.

I think all of this is a testament to those of you who prayed for me this week! Thank you to those you petitioned before the throne on my behalf. God has an amazing way of bringing peace and hope when we least expect it and when we need it most. I feel incredibly blessed to enter into this day with overwhelming peace!

So in the words of Tom Hanks, "Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I new your name and address..." I would send you all bouquets of sharpened pencils to share my excitement in the coming of this day! So sniff some tape in honor of me and I'll be back to tell you how it goes! :-) Yay the first day of school! (Does someone want to come take my picture outside my classroom door?!?)

Farewell Freedom

That title seems a bit extreme, but truly what it means is that I am bidding farewell to the ability to choose how to spend my time. No more meandering through novels for a whole afternoon, no more sitting on the couch talking with Melinda for endless hours, no more watching absurd TV just because I have the chance. Honestly, these aren't all gone, they will just be less present in my life than they were the last five weeks. And it's not all bad. When left to my own devices I can often get down bunny trails that aren't healthy.

So here I arrive at the first day back to school. I have a cold, I'm extremely tired, I haven't done anything remotely near the looks of preparation, and yet I drive myself to Empire this morning. As most teachers will tell you, this isn't the end of the world. It'll all somehow fall into place before students shuffle in on Friday morning. Somehow I'll eek out a doable syllabus. Somehow I'll know exactly what my AP students will be reading this year and somehow I'll get my powerpoints together so that I can explain my expectations on the first day. It'll happen, and the kids will be none the wiser that I have crammed it all into these next four days.

Lucky for me, I have a none school related event to look forward to with such anticipation that it just might get me through this week. On Saturday, well to be exact on Friday at midnight, Harry Potter 7 will hit bookstores and grace us with the long awaited finale to Harry's journey through the wizarding world. After rereading book 6 last week, I wait with bated breath to see how Harry will navigate through his past without Dumbledore to find Voldemort's horcruxes. Will Harry die? Will he ultimately defeat the Dark Lord? These questions I look forward to exploring all of next weekend.

So with that object fixed in my mind, I will somehow survive this week. I will somehow accomplish all that is necessary to start another school year. I will somehow find a smile to put on my face as my students walk through the door to room 306 on Friday. Thus if you wonder why I've fallen off the face of this earth for a while, now you know that I'm somehow trying to peacefully bid farewell to freedom and somehow remember my joy in teaching. It's there, I just have to somehow be reminded.

Miss Jane Austen

On the recommendations of one Aaron Mertz I picked up Jane Austen's "Emma" to while away my summer hours and thoroughly amuse myself in the the charming wit of Ms. Austen's writing. Although I disagree with Aaron that "Emma" is the superior Austen work, I can easily see why he enjoys it so.

The marvel of Jane Austen's writing is her ability to craft such lively characters that it is difficult to not expect their arrival on my doorstep at any minute. In "Pride and Prejudice" one cannot help but be annoyed by Elizabeth's mother and appeased by her father. The reader cannot help but be appalled when Mrs. Bennett feels obliged to make a fool of herself by speaking ill of others and in high praise of her unwed daughters at the ball. Jane did not fail me once again in the creation of divine characters in "Emma".

Part of why I consider this the inferior novel (and perhaps why Aaron considers it superior) is because Emma is such a vexing heroine. She thinks far too highly of herself and makes rather harsh judgments of others without much thought. Her primary targets of unfair judgment are Jane Fairfax and Miss Bates, both less well off than Emma, and both with their own peculiarities. Miss Bates' character is written so well that one cannot help but be irritated with her motormouthed character who cannot even stop to take a breath. Her soliloquies, as they can be deemed seeing as no one gets a word in edgewise, are so verbose and full of frivolities that I can't help but feel like I'm sitting on her couch wishing her to shut up in my own head! While Emma has much cause to be annoyed with Miss Bates, her intolerance for characters unlike herself is rather unbecoming.

Perhaps this is why Emma Woodhouse and I aren't as close as Elizabeth Bennett and I are wont to be. Emma may be to close to my character at this particular moment in my life. I have been feeling very often that I've granted unfair intolerance towards those around me. Whereas, Elizabeth is wont to trust the word of individuals that aren't necessarily trustworthy. I find that less of an abhorrent flaw. But both heroines are flawed and I find that I might relate to one more than the other depending on my current state of being in life. No matter, both characters are vividly written and both male counterparts are worthy of falling in love with.

Mr. Darcy of "Pride and Prejudice" is honorable and kind. Although he appears cold at first, he truly is kind hearted. Circumstances have led him to be more reserved, but when Elizabeth breaks his thick shell, there is no more beautiful a moment than when he confesses his love to her in the parsonage! Ah, and then we have the well meaning Mr. Knightly who is so in love with Emma that he is willing to risk his love for her to make sure that she grows into the woman he knows she is capable of. He places her character above his selfish desires and a beautiful love story unfolds. I must admit that I have far more a soft spot for the friendship developed into romance ("Emma") than I am for the unlikely match between fated lovers ("Pride and Prejudice"). Either way, how can one not fall in love with these leading men!?

All there is left to say is, thank you Jane Austen! Thank you for inviting me into a world so vivid I do not even want for imagination. Thank you for using your words to craft characters who reach the core of my being. Thank you for creating books designed to be timeless. You are a gift to readers and especially a gift to me. I look forward to being lost in your worlds many times over! And special thanks to my mother who was the first to invite me into Elizabeth Bennett's world. Without you I might have missed out on one of life's great joys! And finally, thanks to Aaron for reminding me to search farther into the many worlds of Miss Austen. I feel that I have opened a flood gate of enjoyment for years to come!

Remembering Aunt Kelly

Today is Aunt Kelly's birthday. The day before we celebrate our country's freedom, we celebrate her. She loved celebrating our country, she loved anything patriotic. My mom received this email yesterday and I want to quote it here because I feel that it is so well spoken.

"It's her day... the first of many firsts when she is missing, missed. As Edna Millay said, 'The presence of her absence is everywhere.' So even though you are doing your best to pass through this day, distracting yourself with necessary tasks and businesslike conversations, know that I am remembering you...and Kelly. Just think...what a party she must be having today! And somehow, I rather think that she will be thinking of you, aware of your grief, hoping you will find a "Disneyland" moment to lift your heart and focus on a happier time. It is, after all, her day. And she is certainly worth celebrating.

Lord, please pass on our birthday song!"

There are certainly plenty of things to keep me busy today, but there are also plenty of things to remind me of Aunt Kelly. Let me share with you some of the things I've pondered doing or am doing today in her honor.

1) Jumping in the car right after Herb gets off work and driving to Disneyland. It's last minute and it's fun, just like Aunt Kelly!
2) Watching, singing and dancing with Goofy Movie. Some of my favorite memories are driving in her car singing "If we listen to each other's hearts we'll find we're never too far apart..."
3) Wearing an American flag t-shirt. I couldn't help but scan the patriotic garb at church Sunday and think of all the red, white and blue Aunt Kelly so proudly displayed.
4) Watch an episode of Gilmore Girls. She shared that love with Megan, and with many other girls in our family.
5) Eat some good food but avoid cream cheese! You know you are a Myers girl when you plan your day around good food!
6) To follow that up (in case I did have some cream cheese), fart without shame! Herb would argue I do that anyway, but Aunt Kelly had an art for the fart that I hope to rival. :-)
7) Watch some baseball. Aunt Kelly, like Colin, was a Dodgers fan through and through. I guess I could root for the blue just for today, but tomorrow I go back to bleeding purple.
8) Call my sister. Aunt Kelly cared so much about family, especially her sisters, and was willing to give the world for them!
9) Love a child. I've already explained her deep love for kids; I know she'd want me to love on them today and always!
10) Leave laundry piled high. Cleaning house was never a priority to Aunt Kelly, she'd rather be spending time with people. So today, I leave the house work behind.

I can't help but smile and cry as I compile this list, and I think that's how it will always be. I will remember her with great joy and laughter because that's what she brought to my life, but I will also cry because I miss her presence. But I can remember her and honor her in my actions. And my mom's friend Lauren was right, Aunt Kelly would want me to find a Disneyland moment in my day and hold on to it.

So here's to you Aunt Kelly, it isn't the first day I've missed you and it certainly won't be the last. But I celebrate who you are today, just as I would if you were still with me. I celebrate the beauty of you and your life. You are missed and you are remembered in thought and in action, today and always.

See the Beauty

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I agree completely with the idea that we can see the beauty in anything we so desire. This year some of my students asked me to sit in on a panel in their art class to discuss ideas about what art is and what is beautiful. As usual my students impressed me with their understanding and interpretation of life around them, and they really truly believe that beauty can be found in anyone or anything. Sometimes I wish they could find beauty in what I'm having them read, but that's a different story.

As I sat in church with Herb and his dad and stepmom yesterday (we had a wonderful visit with them) I was struck by something poignant that Glenn said in his sermon. He was touching on the fact that each pastor on staff reaches a different audience with their manner of teaching and their perspective on life and scripture. Glenn's emphasis was that Jesus is going to use different people's giftings to touch different lives. The lives I might touch might not be the same lives Melinda, or Brandy or Krista might touch in the classroom. We each have unique giftings to reach diverse individuals. This isn't necessarily new information, but it hit me in a new way yesterday, in a humbling way.

If Jesus has designed us uniquely to reach others, then why on earth do we judge or compare ourselves to others? Why don't we appreciate the different giftings around us instead of trying to make others like ourselves? Why don't we value what people bring to the table instead of criticizing the manner in which they offer their skills? Basically, I was humbled and convicted. It is so easy to believe that my perspective or opinion or way of doing things is the best because heck, it's worked for me for quite some time now. I spend a great deal of time trying to figure out why people don't do it my way or trying to figure out why my way isn't appreciated by everyone. (Wow that last sentence truly reveals my sinful nature...if you didn't know it, now you do, I'm a sinner.) I waste my time selfishly desiring people to be like me when what I really need to do is see the beauty in what God has created!

God in His infinite wisdom and love for beauty has created unique creatures, each designed for a specific purpose. He has gifted me to touch the lives of some in my circle of influence, but He's created others to do the same. How beautiful each and every one of us are for vastly different reasons! How precious are we each created to serve unique purposes in this world! I want to focus on the beauty in others, instead of judge their shortcomings because God has a purpose for their beauty despite their flaws. And the same goes for me; God has a plan for me in spite of my inadequacies.

Beauty is often found in brokenness. When we see a Phoenix rise from the ashes, or a tear stained toddler's face smile as he tries to walk again, there is beauty amidst the pain. I believe there is beauty all around us, in each person we encounter, in each image our eye takes in. But I believe God's crowning glory, the height of His beauty is in the heart of man, and man is broken. We are God's masterpiece, and even the dark lines that brush their way through our stories provide more definition and depth to the painting. "In brokenness comes beauty, divine fragility, reminding me of nail scarred hands reaching out to me." Again, the darker parts of our lives, whether they be sin or struggle, yield beautiful depth to God's creation.

In humility I admit that I haven't been seeking out beauty in each person, instead I've focused too much on the brokenness or the differences between their painting and mine. But I want to have eyes to see their glory. It is my desire to see the masterpiece, to understand the intricate lines, be them bright or dark, and to recognize the extreme value of who is in front of me. I leave you with these words from a Jars of Clay song that has been running through my head as I write this. It's from a different perspective, but I think the ideas are the same.

"See the Art in Me"
Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity's been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again

In your picture book I'm trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, "see the art in me"

In Over My Head

I've been avoiding the thought of school lately, partially because I'm not relaxed enough to return back (although who ever is?!) but also because I fear I'm in over my head this year. Taking on two new courses, one at a much higher level of cognition, my AP Literature course, and one at a lower level of cognition, my adaptive English class, seems a bit daunting. Did I mention that I'm also playing the role of mentor for three new teachers on campus? Seems like plenty, right?

Well there's more. We've been playing with numbers, a dangerous deal at the school level, and it seems that we have too many students to fit into our course offerings. So now the game becomes how can we eliminate a class to make the class size more equitable? There is discussion of consolidating my AP classes into one and then giving me another American Lit course so as to make more room for another Senior composition course. Confusing stuff indeed! And I definitely don't have a better solution, and I feel badly for Cindy and Krista as they try to come up with a viable way to fix the numbers.

But as I think on this topic I get more overwhelmed. If I were to go down to one AP class and take on another American Lit class, it essentially means more grading. Because part of the draw of the AP and Adaptive classes was smaller class sizes, the thought of losing that and gaining more students means more time grading. I thought it would be a trade off, more planning for less grading. But now it just looks like both will happen.

So what all of this has done is put me into panic mode about the upcoming school year. Instead of being fired up to teach again, I'm just worried that I will lose my identity as Katie Sue Garcia and become solely Mrs. Garcia. I'm afraid that this next year will entail much time at school and not much time with my husband, friends and family. But I want you all to recognize the verbs in the last two sentences, worried and afraid. These are Satan's words and I know that he is wielding them powerfully in my mind right now.

If I were wise, I would realize that God has a plan for this year, He always did, even when He knew the numbers. Even when He prompted me with the Adaptive opportunity or the Cognitive Coaching opportunity, He knew what was in store for me. He had a plan, He had a dream for me with a desire to see me thrive and live life abundantly. The Lord will supply all my needs, according to His riches and glory. I need to trust that. And what really needs to happen in my head and in my heart is this: I need to let go of my worries and fears and let God be in control of what this year will be. Am I any good at this particular task? No. But do I want to be? Yes indeed I do. Thus, I am going to try my hardest not to worry about the year to come and instead I'm going to trust that God will take care of it. He does have a plan.

I guess this was all just a ramble to say, though I'm in over MY head, God's way above that. I'll survive and when I do it'll be a testimony to God's provision. And in the meantime I'll hold on to these words from one of my favorite Watermark songs:

Over time you've healed so much in me
And I am living proof
That although my darkest hour had come
Your light could still shine through
And though at times it's just enough to cast a shadow on the wall
Lord I am grateful that you shined Your light on me at all

Starfish

Per my mother's request and per my own love for this particular topic, I think today's blog will address starfish. Some of you have heard this story and my love for it, and to some of you this will be a new detail about Katie Sue, but either way, I hope you look at starfish differently after reading this blog.

I have a discussion with my students about personal symbols as an introduction to symbolism in literature. It is very easy for them to relate the idea of symbology to tattoos. I ask them if they were to get a tattoo, what would it be? This is a fun discussion to have with them and of course the conversation always turns to if I have any tattoos and if I were to get one what would it be. Well, I definitely don't have any tattoos (my personal belief is that someday all parts of my body will sag, so why have a saggy image to remind me of my aging body?), but if I were to get a tattoo it would be of a starfish. The students always ask me why (because obviously I've grilled them in the same manner to get them to realize the symbology) and I tell them this story...

In one of my favorite books "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge, Stasi tells a story about their trip to California. One afternoon John went out to the beach to spend some time in prayer. When he returned, he was elated to tell Stasi about the precious blessing God had given him. While sitting on the beach, a whale had swam in front of him and played for over an hour. The whale did flips in the ocean and danced in the movement of the waves! How magnificent was this experience of God's creation?! John couldn't believe how God had revealed His beauty to him!

Stasi was thrilled for John and eager to experience God in the same way. So the next day she walked out onto the beach and sat for an hour looking for a whale. She panned the ocean hoping to catch a glimpse of what her husband had seen the day before. After several hours of watching and waiting, Stasi began walking back to camp, dejected that God didn't want to bless her the way He had so graciously blessed her husband. Why didn't God want her to experience His beauty? She went there looking for Him and He didn't show up. Why would He neglect her? (These thoughts are familiar to me...)

As she walked up a hill toward camp, she looked down to discover a starfish. Wow, that's beautiful! she thought, but she kept walking. As she reached the crest of the hill, she looked down onto a pool full of starfish! Starfish of every color, size and pattern! So beautiful that they, each one, took her breath away! As she continued to gawk at God's beautiful creation she realized that sometimes God has different blessings in mind than the ones we imagine for ourselves. Just because God doesn't give us the blessing we're looking for doesn't mean He isn't blessing us. And sometimes that blessing is far more beautiful than the one we seek for ourselves!

After reading this story, my mom and I discussed our love for this tale. "Starfish" became our term for hidden blessings, not so much that we have to search for the blessing as much as open our eyes to blessings God has already placed in our day. So now my mom and I exchange emails praying "starfish" for each other, reminding one another to open our eyes to what God has designed as blessings for us. We hide starfish in various places for the other to find, so that we will be prompted to be vigilant in our quest for joy amidst our busyness or frustrations. Starfish remind us that God desires for us to have life and have it abundantly, not just survive life. But that looks different for each one of us, so we need to be aware of the ways in which God chooses to anoint us.

Brief tale to paint a clearer picture. Last year Herb and I went to a wedding in California. It had been quite the horrible day, starting with running around trying to accomplish the last minute details and ending with a realization that I'd forgotten my Bible (I was supposed to be a scripture reader in the ceremony). Nothing was going well and to top it all off, Herb had forgotten underwear and I had forgotten jewelry for my outfit, so I needed to find a Target in an unfamiliar town. Herb located it on the Internet; I thought I could get there based on his directions, but now I was lost! I never did find a Target, but I found a Ross and decided to run in (after searching for 10 minutes to find a parking spot!) With 45 minutes until the ceremony, I was frantically running through Ross when I saw them. There in front of me were a pair of starfish earrings! And I knew, God was with me, it was all going to be okay, and I would find blessing in the chaos of the day. Later as I told my mom this story, she began to tear up. After inquiring why she explained that at that exact time she had been praying that God would provide a "starfish" (figuratively) for me and He had been gracious enough to grant me a "starfish" (literally). What an awesome story of God's provision!

Suffice it to say starfish are my personal symbol. They are a constant reminder that God desires to give me abundant life, and often His ways and dreams are bigger than mine would be for myself. This was only enhanced when I heard it told that teachers are often like a woman walking down the beach throwing one starfish at a time back into the water. When someone asked her why she would do something so futile when there were so many others that she couldn't rescue, she replied that her efforts were important to that one. I was meant to have starfish all along! Whether they be blessings and glimpses of God's beauty in my day or whether they be students whose lives I touch, starfish will always carry great meaning in my life!

An Exhilarating Escape

We've returned from the Happiest Place on Earth to report that it is indeed the best place to be! Herb, Melinda, Mika and I had an anniversary vacation we will never forget! It is hard to sum up all of the amazing experiences we had, but I will do my best to highlight the key points!

When we first arrived at Disneyland we ran with hundreds of other people toward the finding Nemo ride. The new and improved submarine ride opened last week and everyone was eager to ride it! We had the amazing wait time of 40 minutes (the average was about three hours!), and while enjoyable with some fun highlights it wasn't worth another three hour wait later in the trip! We enjoyed the underwater adventure and some of the cool techniques they used to bring Nemo and his friends to life, but it wasn't our favorite ride by far! It did, however, become our favorite ride for other Disneyland guests because as they all rushed to stand in line for Nemo, we were able to walk onto rides like Space Mountain, Splash Mountain and Pirates! So while it wasn't our favorite to ride, it was our favorite crowd reliever! Here's a picture of Herb and me in front of the new subs.

We spent most of our trip trying not to think about the Year of a Million Dreams and how we wanted to have a dream granted so badly! While we didn't get an official dream granted we did have an encounter that was a dream to us! Friday morning we went in to get our annual passes from the official office, and it was here that we met the wonderful cast member Cheryl. Cheryl asked us for our IDs and when she looked at them she wished me a happy birthday and a happy anniversary as Herb explained that it was also our anniversary. She congratulated us and gave me a new birthday button (the one I had from Wednesday broke), and she didn't want Herb to feel left out so she cut the birthday sticker into a space ship so he could celebrate too! Then she asked us if this was our first annual pass, and we explained that it was. Cheryl then said that she wanted to give us a gift; she gave us her employee discount and took $40 off of the price! She said that we could go to lunch or buy a birthday present on her! My eyes welled up with tears and we just felt so blessed! God truly provided for us in this trip and with our annual passes, and He used Cheryl as a vehicle to do so! What a magical dream! She left an impression we will never forget! She embodies all that I love about Disneyland! Her generosity and desire to make this a special trip reveal a hope that we will find magic in the park! And we certainly did! Here's Herb and me on Big Thunder (I now wish we got a picture with Cheryl to remember her by; I guess she'll just have to live in our memories!)

I think the one thing I realized in being at Disneyland again is that it truly is a magical place! I know people complain about the cost and some people feel it's excessive or over the top, but when you see their attention to detail and to making your experience perfect, you can't help but feel it's worth the price you pay. Like I mentioned they gave me a button for my birthday and buttons for our anniversary, and as we walked around the park Cast Members wished me a happy birthday by name. It certainly made me feel special to have people continue to celebrate me throughout the day! Then as we watched the Electrical Parade, Fantasmic and the fireworks show I realized the time, cost and energy invested into transforming the park into a place of imagination! The magic continued as we watched the fireworks next to a family with two little girls; as the girls told us about their day their faces lit up with the description of each ride! But nothing was as priceless as having them point out with twinkling eyes Tinkerbell floating through the sky as she brought magic and fireworks to the castle! Disneyland isn't just about the rides, although they are fun and a huge part of the experience, but it is more about transforming a normal day on the calendar into a world of imagination and excitement! Thinking about it just makes me smile! Those days were worth every dollar spent to make my soul smile and giggle like a kid again and again and again! The next picture is of the four of us finding our "laughing place" on Splash Mountain; I haven't laughed so hard in a long time as I did when Mika and Melinda got soaked by a tidal wave on the ride and Melinda shrieked and then started laughing uncontrollably! Definitely a highlight for me!

Another bittersweet highlight for me was in remembering my Aunt Kelly. Little things around the park brought tears to my eyes as they helped me remember her. Of course it's almost July 4th and as a result there are patriotic Disney items throughout the park. No one loved the American tradition of Disneyland more than my Aunt Kelly! As we sat through Fantasmic I remember camping out for the show while she ran to get in one more ride! She went through that park with such gusto, dancing and singing along the way! So each time I strolled down Main Street singing and dancing I could picture her walking right along with me! I think it was a very fitting way to remember her; I think it's how she would want to be remembered--living it up in the happiest place on earth!

The hardest part about Disneyland is that it is truly an escape from reality, and as a result there are some pieces of reality that continue in your absence. While I escaped to the Happiest Place on Earth, my friends Rachael and Mark brought their new son into the world! What a wonderful, joyous event, but I missed that piece of reality in my escape! Cody's entrance into the world was a good reminder that there are pieces of reality worth returning to! Because I think my three travel companions will agree that returning from Disneyland is a difficult task...going back to the real world after such an exhilarating escape can be hard! I can attest to that seeing as reality for me brought with it an awful sore throat that has me lying in bed today! Although it is tough to return to reality, it is worth the pain for the escape! A little piece of happiness to carry with me the whole year through is worth the shock of returning to the real world! And Cody is a good reminder that the real world has amazing and magical experiences to offer as well! So here's to finding those exhilarating experiences in everyday life to give us a little magic to hold us over until the next trip to Disneyland! Here's a final glimpse of our Disneyland magic; this is the four of us celebrating our anniversary and our sore feet as we ride the train back to Main Street! Thanks for letting me share the magic!

A Very Merry Un/Birthday

I had a wonderful experience on my birthday Saturday. My mom treated me, Kevyn, Molly, my cousin Megan and Melinda to tea at the Phoenician! We got all dolled up and headed out to an elegant tea room overlooking the city. There are some parts of being a girl that I love, and this experience would definitely fall into that category. Only girls have the excuse to beautify and dress up and go spend a leisurely afternoon eating course after course while sipping tea and chatting. I love imagining the six of us as we'd be in a Jane Austen novel; poised in chairs presenting a ladylike facade, sipping tea, listening to beautiful piano music as we discuss the latest gossip. Only difference, I do have some account for my mom's nerves! (If you're lost in this last sentence, you should delve into one of the greatest classic novels "Pride and Prejudice" and get lost in words like "thither and felicitous".)

I digress...while we enjoyed the process of being ladylike and attempting to be couth, I think half the fun came in not quite fitting in. We would feel out of place if we did everything correctly. Who likes to be perfect anyway? So instead we giggled as Kevyn poured the tea before letting it steep. We chortled as my mom let the tea trickle out of the pot onto the white tablecloth. We tee-heed as Megan opened up her asparagus and prosciutto sandwich to pass the asparagus over to my mom and me. And of course we sniggered as I took a bite of cucumber sandwich and the cucumber hung out over my lip! It's more fun to be tacky at tea then it is to be proper! It allows for more laughter and to me there's nothing more feminine than giggling over delicious scones!

Mmmm scones...let me just add that the food was delicious! How tiny finger sandwiches and scones can fill you up is remarkable, but nevertheless we all walked away happily full! From the chicken salad to the egg salad, the sandwich course was packed full of flavor! The scone course brought in the luscious taste of Devonshire cream, strawberry preserves and lemon preserves atop a buttermilk and cranberry scone! Unbelievable! But of course, we have to finish up with dessert. Chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate brioche, chocolate turtle cheesecake, fruit tarts and miniature eclairs were decadent and hit the sweet spot! Any Myers girl would have appreciated hearing about this delicious spread!

So unlike the Mad Hatter, I had a very merry BIRTHDAY, but the wonderful part is that now I get to join him in celebrating my Unbirthday! Tomorrow Herb, Melinda, Mika and I leave for the Happiest Place on Earth, and the anticipation is indescribable! It's so exciting to spend three whole days in the park ready to take on new adventures, familiar rides and exciting shows! It is a comforting feeling to know the lay of the land, yet every time I meet the park with renewed energy and suspense! Each Disneyland experience offers a new joy, and I look forward to discovering what joys this trip will hold!

While we are in Disneyland Herb and I will celebrate our 4th wedding anniversary! It is so amazing that we've shared four years of marriage. I think it is an awesome gift that we can still laugh and play together and our Disneyland trips are a testimony of that! I love experiencing Disneyland with others because I think it creates a unique bond amongst people, yet there is nothing like going with Herb. I just love being silly and childlike with him! So as we head off to celebrate our very merry unbirthday, may you find a way to be childlike with someone around you! Laugh, be jolly and drink tea from your hat! The Mad Hatter would be proud!

Kevyn's Influence

My sister is gifted in many ways, but one of her greatest gifts is her ability to make people feel honored and special, especially on their birthdays. Before we were grown ups I didn't really cherish my birthday as much as I do now. I got excited about it and I was thrilled at the prospect of collecting my friends together to hang out, but I did not ever look at the day as belonging to me. Kevyn changed all that...

In my family we joke that Kevyn has a birthday month. She begins planning for her birthday months in advance, and she already has ideas about what would make the day special. Princess Kevyn knows how to celebrate in style and is eager to practice her skills. And while we joke about Kevyn's birthday, I think the true testament to my sister is that she really does devote that same kind of thought and energy to anyone's special day.

Kevyn thinks about her best friend Molly's birthday a month in advance. She orchestrates from two hours away the best way to honor Molly and make her feel loved. Kev does the same for everyone in my family as well. She wants to make the day special and she goes to great lengths to accomplish that goal. Kevyn pays attention to details that would fit with the person she's planning for, and she clears everyone's schedule to make sure that day belongs to that one person. She makes sure that your birthday is about you from the thoughtful gift that she picks out to the activities planned to clearing her schedule. I've heard her tell people before that she can't go to some engagement because it's her mom's birthday. And if prompted further about what the plans are for that day, she'll tell them that even if there aren't precise plans it's her mom's day. I truly appreciate this about my sister.

Her efforts echo the kind of thought my mom puts into Christmas. It is their attention to the hearts of what people would want and what would be honoring to them. These women and their desire to honor others are a huge blessing to me! So today I say without shame that the day does belong to me! That's okay because soon a day will belong to you and in the spirit of Kevyn I will find ways to honor you and make your day special! So if in the future I do a decent job celebrating your birthday, thank my sister because she taught me how to celebrate with the best of them!

Uncensored

There's something very risky about blogging or really writing in general. I've always believed that writing is an extension of myself, which is why I used to have such a hard time when teachers would mark all over my papers. I felt that somehow they were criticizing more than my writing, they were criticizing me. I have spent many years trying to learn that while writing is an extension of who I am it is important that there be some criticism otherwise how would I grow as a writer. Which I suppose the same goes for real life. Sometimes we have to be criticized because without it we might never grow as a person.

What's even stranger is that I don't believe in censoring novels on the whole, but I realize that as I writer I censor what I put down on the page. I think about who my audience is and what they will think if I make certain comments, and then I make decisions about which examples to include or what to mention based on my audience analysis. I think this is an important part of writing, just as it's an important part of having a conversation. We should censor what we say and consider our audience because we don't want to alienate them, but we should not censor to the point that we lose a part of ourselves or a part of our message in the censoring. Sometimes the truth does offend people and that's okay because sometimes the truth makes us uncomfortable and it should. Because again sometimes it is in the uncomfortable that we begin to grow.

I say all of this because I'm about to be honest about something personal to me (not that everything I have written thus far isn't personal this is just more directly revealing) and there is a bit of fear that comes with writing this blog. But I like to be authentic, and I am often upset when people are not authentic with me. So I am taking a risk, putting myself out there through my writing. And even if it's taken wrongly or even criticized it's okay because that's how I'll grow.

Now that I've got you all thinking I'm going to write something scandalous, I'm sure you'll be mildly disappointed as you read on. But here's my heart as it stands now, uncensored...

I've been feeling rather imperfect lately because it is taking longer to heal than I thought it would. I thought for sure that after one week of break I'd be off to the races and raring to go again. But after two and a half weeks of break I still feel curled up in a ball, unready to pick up on life as I left it before. I'm not sure if it's exhaustion from intense stress at school or if it's continued grieving of the loss of Aunt Kelly, but my heart feels unsteady and unsure. Why is it that we feel the need to be "ok"? To be "back to normal"? It often feels like the expectation is that we readily pick up the pieces and carry on. And we do need to carry on and it is important to engage in normal activity, but sometimes I wish that I would give myself some grace to do those things imperfectly.

I've been told before that people don't worry about me because I have it all together. People just assume that because I push through and make things work that I need less love and support than those who wear their weaknesses more visibly. And maybe that's partly my flaw, that I don't make my weaknesses as apparent to others as they are to me. I am definitely trying to work on being authentic in that way without being a whiner. But at the same time, I wish that people would take care of me, even if I do appear to have it all together. Or maybe it's not even that they would take care of me as much as it is that they would give me grace to be imperfect or to fall short. And maybe they do and I just am so busy not giving myself grace that I miss it.

I know that I'm harder on myself than anyone else is. Herb constantly says "I've forgiven you, why haven't you forgiven yourself?" And it's a fair point, one that I'm sure God is trying to make to me through Herb. So maybe I just need to cut myself some slack and let it be okay that I'm still wounded. And I guess that's what this blog entry was designed to accomplish. If I admit that I am struggling to give myself grace and that I'm still in pieces, then maybe I will feel less ashamed at my imperfections. And maybe it's not even an imperfection so much as a weakness or a struggle. But either way, it's okay that I'm not healed and I'm sure that you all would say the same to me. I just need to continue to repeat that to myself and hopefully this is my first step in granting myself grace.

Sometimes I think it's important to write your heart without form and perfection, kind of akin to a journal. Although it's a lot scarier to journal to an audience than to a book that sits on the shelf, I think there is value in being honest to an audience. While it may not make perfect sense, it is a glimpse of Katie uncensored.

Out of Control

I've been thinking a lot about control lately. In my profession the more control you have the more successful you are. Think about it...if I have good classroom management, control of my students behavior, then I'm effective in keeping my class on task. If I can control my students attentions and wield them carefully toward the standards I'm teaching, then I'm an effective instructor. I am applauded for the types of control I am able to exercise in my classroom.

As a result of this phenomenon and, you know, being human, I rather like being in control. Who doesn't? There's something safe about being able to predict and dictate my next move. I feel comfortable because I can change my surroundings to protect my heart, my physical self or the people around me. Whenever I feel out of control, I begin to wig out a bit. When someone broke into our car this spring, I felt violated because I could not be in control of my possessions. If I have to enter into a new situation that I'm unfamiliar with, I feel out of control because I do not know who I will encounter or how they will impact me.

I think if I had it my way (which I don't want because I'm truly not wise enough to handle that responsibility) I would be in control of as many things as I can. I would control who touched my things and when. I would control who I spent time with and what was discussed. I would control who could speak truth over me and who couldn't. But as I list these things I begin to realize how mundane that would be. My life would be boring, predictable. There would be no adventure, no meeting new people or experiencing new things. And as I said previously, I am not wise enough to truly know what I should and should not experience.

All that being said, I have the hardest time letting go of control. This book I'm reading, The Bait of Satan, the one I talked about last post, asks me to be less controlled about who I let in. It asks me to take the risk of being hurt, allowing people to love me and allowing myself to love them in return. It asks me to have faith that God is big enough to heal any wound experienced, to comfort any grieving I might encounter, to love me enough to fill in the loneliness. I want to, I want to have faith that big so badly. But it means letting go, and it means a sacrifice on my part. I have to sacrifice a little control to have a huge experience of God's presence in my life.

And when I think about the times that I've relinquished control and let God take the reins, I've seen unbelievable things happen! I think of the time I went to Spain and I decided to sit without my friends and just enjoy getting to know the person who randomly chose to sit next to me. I met remarkable people I might not have ever encountered without a leap of faith. I moved to Empire without knowing anyone but Krista and Jeremy but trusting that's where God would have me, and now I have awesome friends I could not live without and wonderful students who inspire me! I trusted Herb and God enough to love me for who I am, and now I have a life changing marriage that gives me great joy every day!

Taking risks has proven powerful in positive ways in my life. So why, oh why, can't I remember that each time God asks me to let go? Because I'm human, I'm sure is part of it. Because Satan doesn't want me to remember, which I believe is part of it as well. Or maybe it's because with each risk a new part of myself is vulnerable and that's a new type of scary. Maybe I lack the faith to transfer that previous experience to a new experience. No matter what the reason, I want to learn to be out of control! I want to learn to trust more and have great faith that the Lord will be all I need! So I echo the father of the ailing boy in Mark 9, "Master I do believe, help my unbelief!" And maybe experience by experience I will take more risk and engage more trust. At least this is my hope, I'll keep you posted on how this life long struggle goes. :-)

Addendum: So as my brilliant husband read my blog this morning he pointed out to me that I didn't come full circle to a conclusion that fit with my intro. He's so smart! I meant to get there but got lost in my ramblings. Nonetheless, here is my more fitting conclusion with a few ideas added from Herb:

So back to my classroom. What do I do with this contradiction of goals? If control is valued in the classroom, how do I take more risks in every aspect of my life? Well, sometimes what the world values and what God values are different things. But I truly believe that taking risks in my classroom makes me a better teacher as well. Think of the teachable moment when a student brings up a topic not at all in the lesson plans. If I were a control freak I might not take that as an opportunity to teach students something off script, but so much more is gained when I take a risk and talk about real world subjects with them. What if students want to sit on the floor and take notes rather than in desks? I let them because it doesn't really matter where they are learning just as long as they are invested. There is definitely a place for control in the classroom, but I think what makes a great teacher is the ability to discern when that time is and when it is okay to take a risk and let go of some of that control. And although to the outside world it might look crazy (allowing kids to sit on the floor, talking about real world topics with them), the payoff is just as big as when I take a risk in my personal life. God blesses all risk and all faith, even in my classroom. Thus I will continue to try and take risks in all areas of my life and remind myself that there truly is great gain in being out of control.