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.

Coincidence? I think not...

It's funny to me sometimes how disconnected events feel in my life. I often feel like I am experiencing a series of events that are wholly unrelated to one another. Each experience is segmented into a different area of my life. I have a dramatic experience at school, but it has nothing to do with the conversation I had a Bible study this week. Herb and I have an interesting discussion, but it is unrelated to the discussion I had with Krista yesterday.

It's strange that I feel events are disconnected because I took a personality profile at work last year and it said I am all about interconnectedness. And I believe this as right on about how I perceive the world. I am constantly looking for a way to connect to a person, an experience, a book, a song. I want to somehow feel a part of something bigger. The smallest example of this is that when I drive around town I look for other cars that might belong to someone I know. I watch for the make and model that Melinda drives or Rachael drives or even Lindsay drives expecting and hoping that I might catch them on the same road that I am driving. This often makes no sense because I know Rachael's at work or Lindsay's in Ohio, but I look anyway. Something innate in me desires to be connected to others even in the mundane.

I say all of this because I am acutely aware that the events and experiences of my life are interconnected, so when they feel disconnected it is a sign to me that I'm missing something. If I can't connect Herb's comment about the importance of girl time to the time I spend with Melinda, then something is off. Either I'm not supposed to see it yet or I'm not looking hard enough. These past few weeks have been a shining example of how the Lord reveals His not-so-coincidences in His own time.

Experience one happened about 6 weeks ago; I had a very difficult confrontation with someone from Bible study. I was immensely wounded by the experience and wrestled long and hard to see what God was doing in the midst of the confrontation. I couldn't see it; I couldn't see the purpose behind the pain. A single incident, right? Wait and see...

Experience two happened on a much larger scale. At church a pastor spoke on the topic of "Is the Bible true?" (One thing I love about our church is that they aren't afraid to wrestle with tough issues--they didn't shy away from this one either.) With this heated topic the church became ideologically split and our head pastor stood on the pulpit to address a critical moment for our church. He called all church members to read Romans 12-15 and reminded us that it is okay to wrestle, but we should not allow that wrestling to break the unity that God has in store for us. A little similar and a chance to remind me about unity, but it was just a sermon, right?

Experience three is where God began to turn on the warning signals that slowed me down enough so I could see His plan. I asked Lori if she wanted to go through a Bible study with me this summer. We decided on a book of the Bible and were all set to go until...someone handed Lori a book. After reading half of the book in one sitting, Lori immediately suggested a change in topic. "Let's go through this book, The Bait of Satan." Okay, I'm game.

Here's where it all begins to tie together. This book is about how Satan uses being offended to dig his heels into our lives. When we become offended we build up walls to protect ourselves from unsafe people. To me, and probably most of you reading this, this seems like a reasonable course of action. Guard your heart, right? But this book argues that if we build walls and guard our hearts, we will never be able to give unconditional love. How can you love someone without condition if you won't let them near? My instant response, "Too risky, no way." Scripture and this book argue that I need to let God's unconditional love bridge the gap; just because you give love to one person doesn't mean that God is going to use that same person to help you experience love. Good point, I limited God when I expected a direct give and take.

Okay, so I'm going on too much about the book, but I do highly recommend it. My point is that none of these events were coincidences. God has been using the experiences of my last six weeks (and truly of my life thus far) to prepare me to hear this truth. If I had not been confronted in Bible study the wound would not have been so fresh. If the wound hadn't been so fresh I might have missed the true vision of unity behind the sermon. If I hadn't heard the truth about unity, I might not have desired to break down walls in my life. And if I hadn't come to the place where I wanted to break down walls I may not have been prepared for the truth of this book. All of my ramblings to get to this point: God is constantly working and to expect to know the reason right away is ridiculous because if I knew the reason I might be more resistant to the events that lead up to that purpose.

So I truly believe I have a beautiful piece of God's character in desiring everything to be interconnected. It gives me great Hope to find life to be more than just a series of coincidences. Thus if I ever begin questioning what role this has in God's plans for me, just say "Hey Katie, coincidence? I think not."

Baseball

I love baseball! I had the privilege to go to a game with my parents on Thursday evening, and I will go again tonight with Herb to see the Dbacks take on the Boston Red Sox! What a thriller! My mom says that I've had this love since I sat on her lap at the age of one watching the Dodgers games on public access television. But again, this is a family tradition I've inherited!

My Memere (grandma) watches every St. Louis Cardinals game she can. She can tell you about each of the players on her team and how they fare against opposing teams. Also, she collects Cardinals to place around her house so she can be surrounded by her team's mascot. Likewise, my dad loves all sports, but baseball particularly. One of my favorite pictures of me, my dad and my mom at a Dodgers game when I'm one year old. They have always shown me a love of baseball; from my mom who listened to Dodgers' games on the radio with her parents to my dad who watched Cardinals games in the living room with his parents, this is a family tradition, almost.

My sister Kevyn loves most sports and almost all games. Competitive through and through, Kevyn used to kick my butt in games like Wahoo, Skipbo and Farkle, but it took her a long time before she came around to sports. She finally has found a love for basketball (college and NBA), college football and NFL, and a general interest in sports. All but baseball! For my fast paced, energetic sister, baseball moves a tad too slow. Plus, she hates hot dogs, so there's no food appeal for the games there. But hopefully one day we will drag her back in to our family passion!

But I digress, I wanted to paint a picture of why I love baseball! It starts with loyalty; I love pulling on my Diamondbacks shirt, knowing that they can't win one without me. I love knowing each player by name to the point that when I'm cheering them on I call them by their first names, Chad, Brandon, Mark. They are each my personal friends. I suppose in the same way people follow celebrities I follow baseball players. I want to know them, and I am the rare fan who cries when they are traded away. They are a part of my family and I hate to lose any one of them. I have a personal investment in the players and team, which is one part of why I love baseball.

There is nothing that surpasses the feeling of walking into a ballpark. The sounds of vendors encouraging you to buy peanuts, programs and red vines surround you as you walk through the gates. There is team paraphanalia everywhere, vivid signs that you belong to a larger Dbacks family. There is just something wonderful about being a part of something bigger than yourself that being in the stadium draws on Then you climb the escalator pondering what wonderful food to eat. If I'm lucky I'm there with my mom and we can share a hot dog, nachos, and in the eighth inning, a huge waffle bowl of coffee ice cream. But there are so many options, garlic fries always entice my nose, the caramel apple always calls to me, even though it would cover my hands with gooey and delicious sugar, and it is impossible to underestimate the power of kettle corn calling to my nose as I walk by. Seeing as most experiences are about food with me, this is an integral part of my ballpark experience.

But also I find that I am lost in the "American Experience" of going to the ballpark. I love standing next to my mom or any of my aunts and singing the national anthem, hand over heart, tears welling in my eyes. I love the chance to honor America, especially before America's pastime. I love that on Sundays before the official seventh inning stretch festivities they sing "God Bless America", again to cause tears to well in my eyes. I just adore the way America is honored in the ballpark. And truly what could be more American than singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" while swaying and making fun hand gestures. The sound of the organ playing makes my adrennaline rush and brings a smile to my face every time.

From the open air of the evening, to cheering as loud as possible, to following silly chants and claps led by the organist or a thrilled crowd, there is nothing like a day at the ballpark. I know some are skeptical, I know some follow Kevyn's belief that the game is too slow, I know it sounds a bit hokey, but it truly is a great experience. I invite all of you to come with me sometime; I'd be happy to chat through the slow innings with you, teach you a little something about what's going on on the field, and most of all share some nachos and my love of the game with you. There's still time! The great thing about baseball is that is spans at least 6 months of the year! There's still plenty of time for me to "Take You Out to the Ballgame!"

I'm SO Over It

Last night I went to Saguaro's graduation to witness the graduation of Spencer Aubrey. I babysat Spencer for five years when he was younger and the Aubreys are my other family. It was an honor to be there and celebrate Spencer with their family!

But as I sat at the graduation for my old high school, I realized I am SO over it! What do I mean? Well, this is the third Saguaro graduation I've attended since my own, and each one has grown successively easier. The first graduation was painstaking because I was worried about who I would run into and what people would think about who I had become. Part of that was troublesome because I was still in the process of forming who I was post high school. The second graduation, much of the same feelings lingered, but Herb was there so I definitely felt more confident about sharing exciting news in my life.

This third time was much easier. Although there were some faces I recognized as I scanned the crowd, I was not at all intimidated to run into them. I'm a successful teacher, I'm happily married and their opinion of me doesn't matter anymore. When I was in high school (as is the same for every high schooler) the opinions of my peers mattered immensely. And while the opinions of my peers do matter now (I want them to view me as an effective and successful teacher) they no longer define me the way they once did in high school.

I think much of this valuable insight comes from working in a high school. Attending graduation last night, it was easy to scan the crowd and identify my students (figuratively speaking) in the crowd. I could call the students by name as they walked past. Although unique and special in their own way, each student possesses qualities that are recognizable in other students. It was also easy to realize that high school is just a small portion of life; as I listened to the same graduation speech for the fifth time (they all begin to blur together as the years pass) I was reminded that this is just a starting off point for life. It's easier for me to think that way now when I'm a part of building these minds and truly preparing them for life outside of high school. As I will attend graduation at the end of every year for years to come, I will continue to realize that this commencement is important because it ends an important chapter and springboards them in to even more important chapters of life.

So as I look back on high school, I can have perspective. It was a building block to who I am today, and I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything. But I've also moved into the more important chapters and I can be proud of those as well. It is no longer scarring to return to Saguaro, and it is no longer frightening to see faces in a crowd. They are just a part of my past that will forever be woven into my identity, but who no longer define my successes and failures. That power isn't their's to have anymore, and I am more at peace for it.

(As I finish this post, I'm not sure I have expressed myself very well. It may be edited again because I'll think over it and find things to change. That is what writers do, and this blog is my attempt to be a writer.)

Anxiety Dreams

I've been told by many that I should keep a dream journal. I have some of the most bizarre story lines develop in my dreams and they really might make a good book someday. My dreams run the gamut from run of the mill plot lines that would happen in everyday life to ridiculous, outlandish concoctions that could never be created with pen to paper. I've had prophetic dreams where I dream about students before I've met them or had them in my classroom. I've had prophetic dreams where I try to take the square root of a B flat, an impossible task that is my body's way of informing me that I need to vomit. I've had dreams about characters in books or movies coming into my life and co-existing with me in my own reality. But last night brought about a different sort of dream...the anxiety dream.

These anxiety dreams are common for me, especially around the start of the school year. Usually the dream will have me in a regular school setting but I've forgotten to do something crucial like copy my syllabus, plan a lesson for that day, or even wear clothes to school (more than mildly embarrassing in front of a classroom full of teenagers). I've also been lost on campus and late, running through halls I've never seen before attempting to find my classroom which doesn't exist on that campus. I've forgotten to read books or write papers; I've forgotten to bring a backpack or a pencil to an exam. But last night was a new one for me, someone replaced me.

Next year I am teaching an adaptive English class, which I'm slightly nervous about seeing as I've never done anything like it before. And last night I dreamed I arrived in that class without a roster or a lesson plan. There was another teacher there by the name of JoJo (no this person does not exist anywhere in reality) who was supposed to observe my class. But when I realized I had no roster he pushed a desk into my leg, caused me to start bleeding, and then took over my class. I ran away crying to the bathroom and arrived at my next class to find some of my current students circled around another student mocking him mercilessly, and I couldn't get them to stop. I found myself running out of the class again, crying. Then I found my Assistant Principal staring at me and I was even more ashamed that I couldn't get anything under control, which prompted me to finally wake up.

Now you can see, there is no rhyme or reason for this dream, but it bothered me nonetheless. The first aspect that bothered me is that I had an anxiety dream about something that will not occur for another five weeks! I'm not supposed to be anxious about school yet, I'm still deep in the throes of summer. In addition, I'm unsure where the feelings of being replaced are coming from. I'll have many of the same students next year and I know that I'm valued by the staff and students on campus. So why on earth am I having this dream?

It's often been asked of me what my first question will be when I come face to face with God, and I'm pretty sure it will be "Why do we dream? And please interpret my thousands of confusing dreams from over the years." I wish I had Daniel's gift of dream interpretation. I wish I could discern that a bale of wheat means years of plenty, but I can't. I wish I could have this gift because my brain does think in symbols, and I want to know what things symbolize. But that's not in the plans for right now. So I'll have to be content in categorizing my dreams and knowing that last night's dream was derived out of anxiety and nothing more. But hopefully someday I'll be able to ask God, and He'll have amazing answers. And only then will I be able to say, "Oh I get it now!"

So here's to shedding anxiety for the coming school year and living enjoying the now. Sometimes I think we humans aren't content unless we are worried about something. But today my goal is to "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything with prayer and supplication make your requests known to God." Hopefully dream Katie will take this advice to heart as well!

Music from the Heart

I'm not sure how many of you know about one of the most precious gifts ever given to me. When I graduated from high school, my mom sent a letter to the numerous people who had somehow played a role in my life. The letter asked them each to send song lyrics that somehow reminded them of me and a description about how the song related to their experiences with me. My mom and aunts then compiled a book for me that contained the lyrics and stories that each person had sent in. What an amazingly powerful gift that continues to touch my heart even to this day. When I need to be reminded of my place in this world, I open up that notebook and remember that I am valued.

It's amazing how powerful music is to my heart. I can't explain the ways that a song can touch me in a manner that nothing else can. I can listen to lyrics and be moved to tears, moved to laughter, moved to dance or moved to raise my voice in praise. I have to believe that music is one of those precious gifts granted to us by our precious Lord. Without it, I'm not sure what I'd do. When asked which sense I'd rather lose, hearing or sight, although baffled by the depth of this question, I have to ultimately choose sight, because without song I fear my soul would be weakened.

Again, this piece of my character has been carefully cultivated by my family before me. My dad was a music major in college and still plays his horn to entertain and ease his soul. As in my mom's post (on hope) and in my stories about Aunt Kelly, it is obvious that these women in my life loved to praise the Lord with song and dance. There isn't a time when my sister rides in her car in silence; she has to have music blaring with voice lifted to sing away her worries or to declare her joy. Music defines my family in ways I can't explain. Most of my memories that don't deal with food in some way, center around music playing in my ears.

One of my favorite memories of my engagement is when Herb sang to me and danced with me on the beach. I loved that he had a song in his heart designated for only me. And before we were married, my whole extended family stood in our living room teaching each other to dance to all of our favorite tunes. I've never laughed so much or smiled so hard as when my cousin Megan attempted to teach my mom and aunts how to do the body roll. It still brings joy to my heart to think about.

So why does music have such power? I wish I could explain. I wish I could explain why in church yesterday I started to cry as we sang "Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord". I wish I could explain why every time I hear "We danced anyway" I laugh and think about my sister and I blaring it in our car singing together. I wish I could explain why the song "Be Thou My Vision" reminds me of my mom's heart for the Lord or why "Lord of the Past" conjures images of my dad singing in church. I wish I could explain why I make up songs to myself while doing various tasks around the house. And I wish I could explain why it's so important to torture my husband with country music so that he can see a glimpse of my heart and attempt to understand why I love this song so much. But I can't.

All I can say is that music speaks more clearly to my heart than most words can. It reverberates in my soul repeatedly and with great purpose. It changes the way I look at life and the way I look at God. It lifts my spirit when nothing else can. And it tells a story much greater than myself. So "sing, sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong, don't worry if it's not good enough for anyone else to hear, just sing, sing a song." Because "If you sing a song a day, you will make a better way, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah." Just a few favorite songs that live in my memory always. But do sing, like nobody else is around; it'll lift your spirit!

Food Glorious Food

So in case any of you didn't know, I'm kind of obsessed with food. I love to peruse cooking magazines, watch the food network, and eat at lots of yummy restaurants. But as summer arrives, I seem to recall my love of food in a far deeper capacity.

I received my Rachael Ray magazine yesterday and have spent over 4 hours reading through it cover to cover. I love identifying meals that I'd make for myself, meals that I'd make with Herb in mind, and meals I'd make for many of my loved ones. As Rachael Ray says, the best way to someone's heart is through his or her stomach, and it's definitely one of my ways of expressing love.

I come from a long line of food lovers and food givers. I distinctly remember an afternoon when I arrived home from school and my Grandpa Read had made me scones and tea as a chance for us to spend some time together. Food is often an expression of love or of shared common experience in my family. Whenever one of our family members describes a trip they took, the story always centers around the places and foods they ate. And when we get together, we constantly are planning our outings around what we plan to eat.

Some of this love and obsession comes from food serving an unhealthy role in our lives. We enjoy eating sometimes as an alcoholic might enjoy drinking. It takes the place as a comfort in our lives, although I feel like I've made great advances in this area of my life. It is still a struggle in tough hours to avoid chocolate or cheese, but I'm getting better.

But more than an unnatural cure for difficult situations, I like to use food to express my love and care for others. So if I bring you a pan of rice krispie treats, it's because I'm stuck to you. If I bring you a plate of brownies, it's because I think you're sweet. I try to choose foods that reflect tastes and interests that I remember about the person I'm cooking for. Be it vegetarian, dislike for sauces or a food allergy to cilantro, I have your best interest at heart. Thus, if I invite you over for dinner, it's because I want you to be a part of my life. If I feed you, it's because I love you. It won't always be fancy, it won't always be decorative, and it might involve salad out of a bag, but even if it's not fancy, know it's heartfelt.

So now I'm off to try a new recipe with Melinda. Hopefully we'll be able to say Yum-O at the end and feel more loved by cooking for each other! Cook something for someone you love today and Bon apétit!

The Road

Yesterday I finished a novel called "The Road" in preparation for school next year. I didn't choose the book and through reading it I became reacquainted with what my students must feel like when I ask them to read something they aren't engaged in. I can admire this book from a distance, seeing what the author is attempting to achieve stylistically, but in terms of speaking to me, the book had a frightening voice.

Every time I read this novel it gave me horrible images. The book is about a father and son who survive a nuclear holocaust only to travel a barren and ragged road looking for some sort of salvation. But the author chooses stark images of young boys being used as sex slaves and infants being roasted for food. Even though the main characters are somewhat more redeemable, I found the images haunted my mind. And it has left me thinking about the power that an author can have over one's mind.

Now, we give an author permission to enter into our thoughts and into our mind, but at what point do we admit that they have too much power and set the book aside? I had nightmares the last three nights encompassing this boy and his father in some way, but I pushed through the novel because it needed to be done for school. I found the book hopeless and dreary, but I kept reading knowing that reading this book was only for a time. I am honestly wrestling with the question of requiring someone to read something that darkens their thoughts.

My Grandpa Read knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't watch movies that contained abuse of a child or a woman. The images were too damaging to his heart and mind. Shouldn't we in some way applaud someone like my grandpa who knows himself well enough to avoid things that might haunt his mind? And if that's the case then as an English teacher shouldn't I give students the chance to opt out of a novel?

But on the other side of the coin, there have been times that I've exposed myself to a novel or movie that I initially found disturbing only to gain great insight into a new subject or theme that I'd never thought about before. I felt that way reading the first chapter of "The Memory Keeper's Daughter", but after finishing the book I was so pleased I pushed through it. And if we only read, see, consider, experience the things that are safe, then how are we ever stretched intellectually or emotionally?

Overall I'm torn. I think there is a place for prudence and knowing your limits emotionally, spiritually and intellectually. But I also feel there is an important place for exploring new ideas and worlds even if they do make us uncomfortable. So for now I'll have to settle with this: you have to try to read those books you've been challenged to read, but you have to know yourself well enough to say "I can't commit myself to this book any longer." Because I feel like you should always try, but I also feel that perhaps there's a different way to explore that same issue without bringing disturbing images into your heart and mind.

And perhaps that's the ultimate lesson here, it's all about being cognisant of what I am reading, thinking and feeling. As long as I continue to ponder these issues then maybe that's the most important thing. Because the real reason we read is to know more about ourselves and how our world view interacts with the world view of those around us. And if that's the case then it's just as important that we put the book down as it is to push through the book to the end. It's a matter of giving valid reasoning for making either choice.