Children are strangers

"Children are their parents' guests. They come into the space that has been created for them, stay for a while - fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five years - and leave again to create their own space. Although parents speak about 'our son' and 'our daughter,' their children are not their property. In many ways children are strangers. Parents have to come to know them, discover their strengths and their weaknesses, and guide them to maturity, allowing them to make their own decisions." Henri Nouwen

"In many ways children are strangers."

I don't like that statement, but it's true. It was especially true of my daughter (and still is).

From watching excellent mothers at my school, I live vicariously through mother - daughter relationships which are good. Based upon mature parenting and wise choices, unwavering biblical foundations, tremendous engagement. I stare and am happy and am sad --  always happily sad that it's possible, and it's happening for some.

I was always there for my daughter, yet complications and forces grouped to batter.

I have many wonderful, close moment-memories of my sweet, shining star. Early on, we were a loving, inseparable pair, engaging and holding on. For what I could offer, I offered. Good choices, solid, foundational, guided my love for her.

Yet I did not parent perfectly, correctly. My hands were tied in some cases.

In other cases, I underestimated and underused my hands.

Some people say that you stop maturation at certain moments of abusive crisis. I wonder if I remained at 23 and 24 too long.

I wonder if I learned anything beyond my parents.

I look at those teenage daughters who do not run away, do not, do not, do not, and I see who I was at their age. Loving, God-entrenched, parent-respectful. I see expectations of unrealistic duplication given her circumstances.

I wonder what happened, but I know, and much was as it is. A wandering child. A pit and a climb. Both.

Now my daughter and I love each other, but there's a span of hurtful years, and there's a divide, and I wonder did I learn anything beyond my parents, beyond mistakes and pain? Is halting remedy enough.

I don't think she wants to know me truly and really. Maybe she isn't capable of that yet. Are any of us? Will she learn beyond her parents, beyond mistakes and pain?

God has been a parenting anchor for me even though the sail has whipped in the wind. Even through my inadequacies and blunders. Even through remedial rewiring. Even through, even through.

Bless this relationship and her, dear Lord. Thank you for new doors of grace and understanding and repair. Fracture happens but you, O good Father, restore beautiful light for shining.

Amen

Resist

I see teaching books around my desk within my grasp but outside my digestion. Superb classroom teachers are simply born -- there's a gifting given, developed, pronounced. Some gifted teachers make it in the classroom, others don't. We have a gifted teacher at our school.

Today, I was especially critical about my own teaching ability. I was feeling insecure like a 12 year old. I moped and sputtered inside; I felt like quitting immediately and running away to play my mandolin under an Osage Orange tree, where my unfettered mind could wander from one jumping grasshopper to the next within the crest of a thick summer humid-wave during August in the Ozarks where I would soon die anyway and be buried by my ancestores to finally rest in peace away from student life of any kind. Ah. I was feeling tired, weary, underappreciated. Wail!

As I walked across the parking lot to an appointment with a friend at a local cafe, I immediately decided then and there to just resist. Resist the temptation to compare and to despair. Resist the temptation to lump a feeling into a reality. Resist stupid acceptance of falsehood.

I decided to accept that I am human with limitations. I decided to accept that my sporadic outstanding teacher moments make up for my fair or even poor days. I decided that my qualities of giving love, appreciation, and encouragement to each individual student (whom I truly love) are enough. At the end of the school year, there will be accolades for our gifted teacher as usual which he deserves because of his care and love for students. But, inside, I will be applying accolades to myself and other teachers who do the day to day with hope, care, attention, without much mention.

I do receive rewards, notes, comments from my students from time to time. Those matter tremendously. But, after all is said and done and the last chapter is closed in the literature book, I work mainly for the approval of God showing his way of individual love for each learner (of all ages). I hope to learn all I can from his loving encouragement of me.

Amen and amen.

Ever-present

It's 6:16 in the morning, and I should be tying up the fabric of my day's lessons plans.

But, my throat feels rawed by sand paper, and I'm in a tired-sick stupor.

If I can't focus now with these minor symptoms, I wonder how someone can who is really sick, who is chronically sick.  Yesterday I read an article about Ed Dobson, a once (well-known) pastor who's now chronically ill. He said that he found it hard to pray at all, to access that common devotional life which girds us during the day. Yet he's managed somehow to weakly walk the path (and to write a book about it with the help of his son!).

I, rawed-throat-only, believe in the challenge.

In so many aspects, it must be a difficult thing to have one's health taken away. I pray that those sick today can be, even if vaguely cognizant, aware of the following oft-repeated biblical promise:

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

Ever-present sounds like a feathertop mattress we can ride upon the turbulence.

Grateful.

Squeaking

A spring snowstorm of papers flew from my son's backpack last night as I attacked. He wandered the periphery coming when called, working on his Huck Finn paper, being generally an obedient teenager in the midst of the parental gale. I e-mailed teachers too; I'm contacting his learning specialists. I'm basically being the parent who ya-deal-with, a nice version, yet still life is busy in the building, and there's an attitude that parents should remain on the periphery. They say that a student who is a teen must make his/her own independent decisions.

Yes, we all should encourage that, however, there's a sense in the high school culture that parents should stay out of the learning process with the student. Sure, if parent wants to bake for the faculty appreciation day, or volunteer for the hog roast, or do concessions, then involvement is good. But, if they're buzzing like a fly around the school day, then where's the swatter? I've been there as a teacher. Yet I also know that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. I also know that most IEP students don't have parents who are trying to improve their lot. I know that the teachers forget about kids with learning challenges in the rush of the mob who's needing them at the moment. Some teachers are resistant to any different kind of help. So, I'm squeaking for some greasin'.

Plus, I think we have it wrong. I think we should encourage the parent to be involved in the classroom, to be communicating. If a student fails, it's easy to blame the parents for that, but the culture of stay-away-for-independent-growth at the secondary level also encourages lack of involvement, apathy, disengagement with parents. One hand beckons, one hand halts.

It's a balance, but I believe that parents aren't enablers if they get involved. Personal responsibility is important, but the parent should be there encouraging and simply requiring it.

Squeak, squeak. Okay, I feel better now.

Creating a Home Together

Creating a Home Together

"Many human relationships are like the interlocking fingers of two hands. Our loneliness makes us cling to each other, and this mutual clinging makes us suffer immensely because it does not take our loneliness away. But the harder we try, the more desperate we become. Many of these "interlocking" relationships fall apart because they become suffocating and oppressive. Human relationships are meant to be like two hands folded together. They can move away from each other while still touching with the fingertips. They can create space between themselves, a little tent, a home, a safe place to be.

True relationships among people point to God. They are like prayers in the world. Sometimes the hands that pray are fully touching, sometimes there is distance between them. They always move to and from each other, but they never lose touch. They keep praying to the One who brought them together."

The above was written by Henri Nouwen -- how true, how true. I confess being interlocked destructively in the past; it's quite difficult, even as a God-following person, even when wandering away, even when you're just coping with the world at large to not want to cling, especially when you've found a person (or people groups) with whom you are compatible. However, yesterday I was truly thinking about how my husband has become my best friend. We laughed at church; we laughed at my son's soccer game at our jokes; we've truly advanced to that stage where, even with girlfriends, my husband is my true and constant, and yes even fun!, friend. I admit that in many stages of our lives that wasn't the case. God truly had to push us closer to one another. The final big push came about four years ago -- it was a painful push, off a cliff of feeble constructs, but, at the bottom, we clung to one another. I'm grateful for that time. God does care about how we love those closest to us -- he wants us to be safe and cared for; he wants to teach us how to love well back. We mirror him the most in this capacity. True relationships, as Henri says, truly do point to God.  Amen.

Steadying

"The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him." Lamentations 3:25

We read Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind" this week in class, and a blowing wind does typlify the recent movement between my ears. I must remember that at times I'm prone to being a tumbleweed. So, this morning, I thought about all that's making me roll across Kansas in Jayhawk territory when I should be at home planted in Missouri in lovely Tigerland.

Here's the list:

Career => what-to-do-be. But, I got out the yellow pad, and I'm cheered with my analytical findings. Some roots based upon wise choice -- to think!

My house => scattered yet this morning tidied. Some people in Indiana wish they had a house in one piece right now. But, mine looks good, and my husband will be happy when he comes home. I will probably get a thousand kisses while in the kitchen. Ajax is part of his love language!

Bad news => a local girl jumped off a cliff; tornadoes spiked and rumbled over all in the Midwest, killing 30; friends' struggles; a family all killed in a car accident; three kids shot at a school. God, fragility reigns, but here we are still to gather strength to fight off what we can. To fight. To run after the powers of bleakness. To chase it out the hallways, which a school coach did to the shooter before more were hurt. Heroic response instead of despair and indifference.

Faith => all the above unsettledness caused me to sway, sway. And, I realized that I was unsteady. I realized that even though I have an inner strong personal belief in God, something was frittering away at me which I needed to push back on. Then I found the above verse, and others concerning seeking God. Each of them promised reward, a finding, to those who seek God, who hope in him. Rather than doubt and sway, I was reminded to choose the footing that these words offer. It's all about choice, right? And, it's all about acknowledgement. I am choosing to recognize. To be firm and to chase away darkness.

The verse above => I like how the plural pronoun those becomes replaced by one. There's some dividing to be done; a singular, individualistic direction to make as one chooses to look, hope, and find the treasure to be found in God.

Amen. The Saturday ticks on.

The larger loaf

I have lots of thoughts rumbling around in my head, particularly about faith.  My last post made me think quite a bit about cognitive acceptance of faith and what that's like. But, the day after my post, I became aware of another factor in faith cognitive acceptance:  bad news. Tornadoes, car wrecks, sickness all greeted me as e-mails or headlines. Many were calling out for prayer, comfort, higher love. When faced with such a thing, we tend to forget the questions which are flattened like apples in a driveway. We need support. We turn to God. Sure, there are questions lurking in our head like:  Will I hold your lack of help against you one day? Or, will you actively help and will I recognize it? Or, please, are you there? But, there we go instinctively and with hope and with offers of trust. We hold onto Bible verse promises (those of us who know to do so). We approach. We receive comfort if we're not too angry to be blinded. We feel as if we're actively engaging in a process of relief.

And, we are. Questions shouldn't pre-empt our natural inclination to travel down a path to find God who can comfort and embrace. A God who can offer an eternal perspective. Our minds will just have to quit nibbling at small crumbs of a much larger loaf. Quantifying can only go so far. Our western mindset in that regard is just limited.

Father, help those who are suffering. We all turn to you in time of need and trouble. That is a huge Signifier in itself. Thankful.

Amen.

Pick Up Stix

Yesterday, we had a chapel service for our students; our much-loved speaker chose the topic of "Belief in God's Love for You" is the most important thing to know in the walk of faith. I sat in the back and thought of how the message was being received by the students. I saw one student who I know struggles with acceptance of this idea; one student who could easily exchange this sentiment for what the world offers; one student who believes this with all her heart; one student who will wait for the evidence; many students who willingly accept this message because they have been lovingly taught it all their lives. Whether they will believe later is the big question.

I thought about my class a couple hours later and how we would be looking at Lord Byron's poetry. The students then are eager to talk about other ideas, how the poetry reflects their love lives (or lack thereof), and I willingly stretch their minds wide to encompass new perspectives.

I remember when I was in college at Evangel University. I was so confused and frustrated by the world in chapel and the world in the classroom. The first was typlified by devotional response, by winnowing of misbeliefs, bad values, wrong perceptions. The second, which I preferred more, was  about "All truth is God's truth no matter where it is found." They clashed terribly for me, and I had a bit of a breakdown in my second year there. One week found me crying in my room for about three days straight. I had just read Letters from the Earth by Mark Twain. I confided in no one; no counsel was given or sought. I was just simply miserable in my inability to reconcile, approach, or disavow.

The message at my high school's chapel was good, like a breath of fresh air really. But, I sat in the back and wondered about the divide, between devotional belief and cognitive acceptance. I think it's like the old game of Pick-up Stix. You try to hold onto one belief (one stick) and take care of it, without moving anything else. When you can pick up a stick successfully, you get to progress until a stick gets moved in the process and you have to sit out. I think at times, we are like that with faith; we believe we must cognitively accept at least one thing without stirring up other questions / doubts. And, yes, while we can do that for a bit,  the pile of sticks will eventually move. There is no shame in it. No reason to sit out. It's just the reality of the difficult cognitive acceptance of the devotional aspects of faith.

To that end, I simply pray that my students can 1) accept that sticks of faith do indeed move; 2) choose to know that God is love and choose to experience it.  Amen.