Hope

My best friend Lindsay loves the word "Hope", and as it has been a common theme in my life of late, I've come to a greater understanding of Lindsay's mantra. When I was in high school my name in Spanish class was always Esperanza because I loved the idea that my name could mean Hope. As with most words, I think the meaning and value of the word has changed in my eyes as the years have passed. In high school, I thought of Hope more like a wish, or what our pastor explained as "the absence of fear". While I still believe Hope is the absence of fear, I've come to see an even more profound meaning to the word.

This week's sermon at church touched on the subject of why bad things happen to good people. This question is often asked, especially when enduring a trial like that which has faced my family these past months and weeks. Why would we lose Aunt Kelly to cancer? Why would God take such a vibrant woman at such a young age? These questions have been posed to me these last weeks, and I don't even begin to know the answers to those questions. But I found that Hope has prevented me from asking "why", Hope has begged me to ask "What now?" Let me take you back a few months to give a more ample explanation...

In March when we found out the brutal reality of my aunt's cancer, I cried, but I felt like I cried very little for the weight of the situation. I was concerned about this, and when my mom and I travelled to Sacramento to visit with my aunt I began to realize why. I told my mom that I have such great Hope that the Lord knows what He's doing. I have great Hope that if she loses this battle, she'll be at home with Him. And if that's the case, why should I weep? My mom assured me that there was nothing wrong with that, but that I should still allow myself to grieve.

And in coming weeks and months I did weep. I wept and continue to weep for those of us left behind. I do not weep for Aunt Kelly. I have Hope that she's singing and dancing her heart out at the feet of Christ. My Hope comes in the faith that the events of my life, of the lives of people around me, are with great purpose. Yes there's consequence to action, yes there's temptation and meddling by Satan, but more importantly there's Hope in what God will do in my life through this situation. There's Hope that God will change others through Aunt Kelly's life and death.

Ultimately it boils down to this (yes this is an oversimplification, but go with it), Hope is not regretting what has happened, it is trusting that it will result in greater things. Notice that I avoided saying "Hope is not questioning" because I feel that there is a place for questioning; I think God wants us to question, otherwise how would we find deeper answers. But I believe that Hope asks the right questions. Instead of asking "why?", ask "what now?", ask "how will You use this?", ask "who will be changed and how will I be a part of that?" Hope is asking questions with faith that God has a greater purpose in mind, one that we may not always see, but one that will shine a light brighter than we can imagine on our lives and on the lives of others.

So Linds, I ask permission to share your mantra. May I Hope along with you? I sure Hope so because it brings me a great peace I can't even begin to explain.

Love Actually

As I perused channels yesterday I happened upon one of my favorite movies of all time, Love Actually. (Yes I own it, and no I don't understand the excitement and logic of finding one of your favorite movies on TV and watching it with commercials in spite of your commercial free DVD sitting on the shelf. But the thrill is there nonetheless.) So three hours of my day yesterday were dedicated to Love Actually, and I don't feel it a waste at all.

This movie is beautiful because it reflects the many different forms of love in this world. From the opening monologue about calls of love on 9-11 as the camera scans a crowd of people hugging in the airport to the closing scene that now pans the faces of love stories we know, it is clear that love exists in this world. You all may be thinking I'm stating the obvious here, but I think we often forget the way that love encompasses and sustains us. I would not be who I am today without many different forms of love.

So I thought I would give you a glimpse into moments of love actually in my recent daily life. These are moments that if I were to not pay close attention I would miss completely. A reminder for me to constantly be looking for reflections of love in my life.

Last night as we were falling asleep Herb and I were holding hands. When he was ready to turn over, instead of saying anything, he just turned over and kissed my hand. A tender moment of love actually.

As I talked to my mom these last few weeks as she sat beside an ailing Aunt Kelly, she and her sisters would run to my aunt's side every time she threw up. Running toward sickness and pain to just be there is love actually.

In the same vein, my Uncle Dave sat at a table at the memorial service trying to cope with his loss. He admitted to my cousins and me that usually at this time he'd go find Kelly and talk to her. He missed her in the little things and that is love actually.

And finally I end with an airport scene just like in the movie. As my sister stood in the airport hugging our cousins goodbye, she stood laughing with Colin, prompting him to smile amidst his loss. My sister knows him well enough to make him laugh, and knows him well enough to know he needs to laugh. This hug is love actually.

This post is more of a prompting and reminder for me to be ever vigilant in watching for love. One moment can sustain a whole day, and it is a collection of these moments that sustain a lifetime. Our purpose on this earth is love actually, and I don't want to miss the opportunity to give or receive love.

If you'd like to share your moments of love actually, leave a comment on this blog. I'd consider it a privelege to see your glimpses of love in your own day to day.

Hiding

I'm not sure what it is about the first week of summer vacation, but for me it can inevitably be summed up in one word: "hiding." I sit in my pajamas, drinking coffee, watching TV or reading a book and do little else. But it's more than that. I will read emails, but I'll rarely answer them. I'll put my phone on vibrate and answer only if I hear it. I don't know why I can't muster the strength to engage with the real world, maybe because it seems too real. There is something about this first week that begs me to escape from reality and delve into moments of peace.

This seems anti-social for a people lover like me, and I am always baffled when I go into "hiding" this first week back. But upon reflecting for this entry and trying to come up with an explanation, I think I am a little less confused at my behavior.

I once read that in order to care for others, you have to care for your own heart first. I think I devote this first week to caring for my heart that has been neglected for the past weeks or months. So I find things that tend to my soul; guilty pleasure example, I watched a Lifetime movie last night. Not exactly high quality, but a reminder of how love looks different to different people. I watch baseball, a slow moving game that allows my mind to wander or my hands to find various tasks. I cuddle with my hubby on the couch, getting reacquainted with his heart and thoughts on the world. I read a good book, an escape from reality and an adventure that requires no physical effort from me. I recharge my soul.

The other aspect of hiding that brings me great joy is to be still. I take this moment, this week, this brief stint in my life to be still. The Bible says to "Be still and know I am God" and sometimes in the rush of the day to day I forget this commandment. This week affords me the chance to "be still" and in that quiet God speaks to me. He tends to my heart, He reminds me of truth, He reaffirms who I am in Him, and He lets me wrestle with doubts that have crept in. There is something about His quiet that is rejuvinating and nurturing to who I am in this moment. Broken, weary, sad, hurt, stressed Katie collapses at His feet, and in those moments "the warrior is a child".

So if you find me hiding this week, if you wonder where I've disappeared to, please don't take offense. Please don't fret or fear. I will resurface, and when I do, you will find me more whole, more at peace. May you find a chance to hide in your busy week as well. It brings comfort and healing, something we all desperately need.

My Logic

So I have decided to try my hand at blogging. What is my logic in choosing this pass time? Well it's two fold.

One, as a teacher of English I try to impress on my students the importance of writing in authentic settings. I think it is invaluable for me to model that process in whatever ways I can. I need to be writing to set an example, and without some sort of prompting to write I may never hone my skills. When I was in high school I used to list writing as a hobby, a true investment of my time in poetry, journaling and letter writing. It is time to resurrect that time honored tradition.

Two, as an English teacher I find that I don't have time to write emails as often as I used to. I find that at the end of the day I'm just out of words to communicate with anyone else. That being said, I have left many friends wondering where I am, what fills my days and what the state of my heart is. So, this is my chance to use some words to reach many.

I'll be honest. I may not be extremely faithful in this endeavor. Although it may seem like I am loyal to it at the beginning (this is the beginning of summer), when new faces rush into my classroom next July my blogs may be fewer and further between.

I often wonder if this is a flaw on my part, becoming too absorbed in the lives of my students and in the world of my classroom. Some people go to work, leave at 5 and are done thinking about their place of employment. But for me, I go to work early, spend all day going none stop, conference with students after school and then come home to make dinner and grade their papers. Is this a flaw? Have I become a workaholic? Although I vascillate on the final answer to this question, the conclusion I come to most often is, no I'm not a workaholic. And after attending my Aunt Kelly's memorial service this weekend I am more affirmed in this fact than I've ever been. Reason being...

My Aunt Kelly spent her life dedicated to kids, all kids. There were more teenagers at her service than there were adults. She took the time to talk to each one of her own kids' friends. She took the time to drive them places, attend their events, walk along side them in tough times and offer them her couch and a warm meal. There were hundreds of children in that memorial service weeping the loss of their second mom. The power of touching the life of a child is priceless. Jesus says in Matthew 18:5 "And whoever receives one such child in My name receives Me." Jesus loves children and what a reflection of him if I spend my life loving children as well. I can tell you that my Aunt Kelly was a reflection of Jesus to hundreds of children, and I consider it an honor to walk in her footsteps.

So is it time consuming to be a high school teacher? Yes. Do I feel worked to the bone and often unappreciated? Yes. Do I often wonder if I make a difference in my day to day? Yes. But do I believe I am living out God's will? Yes. Do I believe that I have a great power and influence over the lives in my classroom? Yes. And is it worth the sacrifice? Absolutely.

So if you wonder where I am daily, why I'm often not as responsive as I should be, why I'm exhausted and asleep by 8 o'clock, the answer is I'm loving kids. I'm finding their quirks and adoring them as they are. And I am proud to live in the footsteps of Jesus and in the example of my Aunt Kelly. I hope that one day children will know Jesus by His love that they experienced through me.

Now that I have rambled, I hope you know a bit more of my logic, a bit more about how I spend my time, and even more about my heart. Here's to a new foray into authentic writing. May you truly experience the real Katie Sue. :-)