WHERE IS YOUR PARADISE?

I just arrived home from a glorious vacation.  As I sat on the white sand overlooking the crystal blue ocean I uttered, "This is paradise."  Paradise is defined as a place or state of bliss, felicity, or delight.  Those were the exact feelings that I had as I took in the beauty all around me.  There were no chores to do, lessons to teach, bills to pay, meals to prepare, or deadlines to meet.  My mind was blank and my breathing was light and easy.  I felt closer to God and the unexpected blessings that would come with this much needed rest. 

Heaven is a paradise that no human can even visualize.  As I walk with Jesus, I strongly believe that He does not want me to wait until I have left this world to feel heavenly blessings.  My life is messy, ugly, and broken.  As I draw closer to Good Friday, I can grieve the brutality of the crucifixion, but Sunday is coming.  The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the miracle that allows every Christian to leave the heaviness of this world behind, and find paradise in each and every moment. 

Close your eyes right now and take a deep breath.  Imagine your paradise...who is with you?  What do you hear, smell, taste, and feel?  Leave this world behind, and go to your happy place.  That is a tiny sample of what Jesus died to give you...now go bless others. 

DANGER AHEAD

One of the best parts of having a break from school, is that I can meet my best friend for walks at 6:30 AM.  I love starting my day with some sweat, laughter, and prayer.  We are both starting to feel more alive now that the sunshine has arrived. 

Icy mornings cancelled more than one day of school this winter.  Christine and I would take advantage of my days off from school and try to meet before she had to go to work.  The roads were not hazardous on one particular morning, but the shadowy trail that we walked had some icy spots that posed a risk.  As we walked our first loop around the track, I slipped on a patch of ice and just caught myself before falling on the hard cement.  We continued walking and again I found myself skidding on the exact spot.  I chuckled while attempting to explain my carelessness.  However, once I went over the sheet of ice a third time, both of us stopped and looked at each other with wide eyes of disbelief.

Someone recently pointed out to me that I am extremely stubborn.  Honestly, I have never believed that I embodied this particular trait.  I started to examine the way that I make decisions and how I approach change.  My stubbornness is not the "I won't give up in the face of adversity" variety.  It is more like the "I think I am right" inflexibility that refuses to entertain another perspective.  I am drawn to the comfortable path that causes me to slip, fall, and perhaps hurt myself.  Just like that cold morning when I continued walking over the same patch of ice, I refuse to admit that the carefully set plan that guides my days might be harmful. 

Why would someone keep doing the same thing over and over again if it causes nothing but heartache? I can only answer for myself.  I don't want to surrender.  I don't want to give up control.  I don't want to admit that I don't know what the hell I am doing.  I profess to be a Christian, but when it comes right down to it, I don't trust the Creator of everything to take care of me.  He might want me to give up some things or people that I want to keep.  As I write these words, I am ashamed to admit that my stubbornness has caused pain and suffering.  This discovery, although profound, did not cause an instant revision of how I live.  I have been forced to minute by minute submit my will and acknowledge that His way is perfect.  When fear creeps in, I think of that slippery piece of ice, and purposely walk away from the danger ahead.      

WHO ARE YOU FOOLING?

This was the question that stared back at me from the pages of my 5 year journal...Who are you fooling?  The book, given to me by my BFF Christine, poses a question a day intended to playfully keep record of our daily emotion and thoughts over time.  And yet, this morning I failed to find the humor in this particular inquiry. 

I have been wrestling with HONESTY.  I want everyone to like me.  If I fail to meet your expectations, I have a list of excuses ready to provide that can easily get me out of any jam.  Years without change, have forced others to either leave or except me as I am.  I am not a bad person...I just don't always tell the truth.  However, my falsehoods actually have nothing to do with you.  The real fool in my life is....ME.  My carefully constructed existence is entirely intended to keep me comfortable, but it does the exact opposite.  Thankfully, God continues to convict me.  He won't force me to do anything differently.  I can stay in this land of make believe, or I can surrender every area of my life and be used for His glory. 

April 1st is the only day that we are supposed to be foolish, but perhaps I will start another tradition.  Maybe today can be the moment when I start to get real.  The reflection in the mirror does not have to be flawless, but the source of my power is undeniably perfect. 


Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.    Psalm 139: 23-24

MY GIFT TO MY STUDENTS

 
 
 

My first day of trackout has given me time to reflect on my year of teaching.  I only have 9 weeks left with my current students before they move on to 8th grade.  Panic has set in as I realize that I need more time.  5 days a week, I try to meet the educational and emotional needs of approximately 125 adolescents.  The state provides me with lessons, themes, and ideas that I can use in my classroom.  I work with three other teachers on my team. We daily discuss the myriad of challenges that we face.  The horrible truth is that most days I feel like a failure.  Have I accomplished anything real or life changing?

Our science teacher, Ms. Boone, recently studied genetics.  The students made faces out of construction paper that captured their unique physical traits.  Every morning, I walk by the wall of over 100 faces and always smile.  My students are not robots that simply memorize facts and figures.  I cannot magically open up their minds and dump in all the knowledge I feel they might need in the future. Each child is magically unique and no ONE teacher can possibly reach them all. However, this powerful truth has changed my entire way of teaching and parenting. 

The gift that I give my students is that I accept them where they are in their journey.  Many of them are talented writers, eloquent poets, articulate speakers, and dedicated scholars.  I chuckle as I think of those young girls and boys that are just quite simply a mess.  Parents come to conferences and throw their hands up in the air unable to think of ways to motivate their children to put forth more effort.  I could spend the next 10 years with some of my students and never reach them.  I am thankful that each of us has a lifetime to interact with individuals that will inspire and teach us.  And so as I walk past those paper faces, I remind myself to look up from the books and the papers and see the real faces in front of me.  I humbly thank God for the way He might use me in the lives of my 7th graders.  As a parent, I pray that there is at least one teacher that looks into the faces of my own children and perhaps changes them forever. 

GOOD SOIL

Don't Judge Me!!!
 

This is what my grass has looked like for the past year.  In fact, you really cannot even call it grass.  There are green weeds that are growing over dead brown patches of earth.  I wanted to put sod down, but am still recovering from the shock of the price quote.  Honestly, I have never been one to spend much time in the yard, but I decided to seed and fertilize and cross my fingers that in the Spring there will be some green blades. 

Friday after work, I arrived home to find a large truck in my driveway and men spraying some chemicals on the front and back yard.  I walked over to one gentleman and calmly asked him what he was doing.   He smiled and replied, "we are killing everything!"  Oh my gosh..."you were supposed to seed not kill.  How is grass going to grow now that you have poisoned the very soil that was supposed to yield my beautiful lawn?" Obviously, you can see I have no clue about anything.  The worker quickly reassured me that in order for the new seed to flourish they had to kill the weeds and then they would fertilize, water, etc. allowing beautiful new grass to grow.  I smiled as I walked away.  God knew I needed to learn yet another lesson.

But the one who received the seed that fell on good soil is the man who hears the word and understands it.  He produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.

Matthew 13:23

I love the parable of the Sower.  Basically a farmer goes out to sow his seed and depending on the conditions of the soil he is met with success or failure.  Some of the seed fell on the path and was eaten by birds.  In another instance, the seed falls on rocky places and although something grew it withered because it had no root.  Other seed falls among thorns and the plants are choked and die. 

The seed on the path represents those that hear the Lord's message, but do not understand, and so the evil one steals it.  The seed that falls on the rocky places are people that have some growth as a result of God's teaching, but because there is no root it lasts only a short while.  The rocky places are the trouble, strife, and challenges of the world that often make us lose hope.  The person that receives the seed, but allows the thorns representing the worries of life and deceitfulness of wealth, does not bear any fruit.  The verse above points to the fact that we have to have "good soil" in order for God's word to take root and produce a harvest in our lives. 

Goodness...I pray that the current condition of my lawn is not an indication of the fruit I am bearing for The Lord!  For years, I have allowed the rocky circumstances of my existence to kill everything...my hopes, dreams, and relationships.  Brown patches in my soul and thorns in my heart have kept me from experiencing the fullness of God.  The enemy has brought weeds into my garden and I have been too lazy to pull them up.  Do I trust God enough to allow him to take away anyone and everything that is preventing me from bearing fruit for Him?  I don't want to just go through the motions, hearing the sermons, praying the scripture... while the darkness prevents any seed to take root.  It is time to bask in His radiant light, overflow with the living water, and share the mighty harvest with the world. 

MY BROKEN HEART

I fell asleep the other night with my bible crushed tightly to my chest.  This place of complete brokenness is not new to me, and yet I allow my fears to doubt HIS presence in the midst of the heaviness.  So I must remind myself of the path that I have walked...

He was there when I watched my father take his last breath.  As my 12 year old sister and I sat in the chapel trying to gather the courage to go see his shell...He took our hands and gave us comfort.

He was there as I sat in the cold, heartless room watching helplessly as my sedated 4 month old son's brain was scanned.  With every roaring beep of the menacing machine I felt as if a part of me was dying.

He was there as the doctors told us that he was "damaged".  Would he walk or talk?  Tears flowed each and every night as I grieved the loss of my perfect child.  He has put a new song in my heart as I grow to cherish the child that makes me laugh and brings me joy.

He was there when I heard the words "you have cancer."  As I unwrapped the bandages to see the scars that would never go away, shaved the hair that would return, and surrendered the chance to give life in order to save my own...I was never alone.

He was there when the sword of "I don't love you anymore" tore a hole in my existence.  The words "I found someone else and I am happy" crushed my lungs and I could no longer breathe.  The nights of quiet loneliness and questioning days of unhappiness allowed little rest.

He is here as I struggle to find a new normal.  As I watch my teenager's soul twist with the unknowing questions and brutal reality of our life.  He is here with every bill that I pay and every lesson plan that I prepare.  Every prayer that I utter and smile that breaks free is a testament to his strength in the midst of my weakness.

He whispers, "I love you.  I have you.  I will use this pain for my glory.  Bring me every piece of your broken heart and allow me to put it together again." 

This world has NOTHING that can truly comfort the brokenhearted.  You can dull your pain.  You can ignore the ache.  I want to heal.  I want to be transformed.  And so today, I choose God. 

LETTING GO

 

 

During my cancer treatment, I started getting massages on a weekly basis.  There is something about the power of touch that was so peaceful and healing.  The aging process has brought a long list of aches and pains and so I have returned to massage.  I don't like those soft Swedish rubs, I want someone to get in there and work out those knots.  Yesterday, I was met by a soft spoken masseuse that quickly explained to me that his method might be a little unconventional but that I needed to trust him.  As I lay face down on the table, I wondered if I should apologize for the fact that I had not been to the gym for about a year?  Should I mention that I was running late this morning and forgot to run a razor over my legs?  Where do I even begin with these arms?  Did he read my file?  Does he know about my surgeries?  My scars?  I should have taken a chill pill before my relaxing massage.

 

I would have to draw diagrams for you to grasp the crazy things that occurred inside that dimly lit room.  My legs were stretched to my shoulders and at one point I soared like an eagle with my back arched and arms overhead.  There is no way the sheet was covering everything that it should during these elaborate contortions!  Through it all, Jorge (that was his name), kept whispering to me, "Relax and let go."  About halfway through the hour, I realized he was a professional and knew what he was doing and so... I LET GO.  My breathing slowed, my muscles went slack, and for a few precious moments I felt free.

 

As I bow before the throne of my king, I feel so unworthy.  Like a petulant child, I want to make excuses for my disobedience.  I play games with God and plan to show Him only the good inside of me and keep the rest hidden from view.  And then I hear God whisper, "Trust Me.  Relax.  Let go."  God sees all.  Jesus died for my sins and I am washed clean.  I am worthy.  I am loved.  I am forgiven.  I know all these truths, but I  continue to hold tightly to the dirty, rotten, sinful, painful, and negative parts of life.  I stay trapped in a cage of my own making.  For me, letting go is not some beautiful process where I stand on a mountain side and release a thousand butterflies signifying my transformation.  Letting go is a daily, dirty struggle.  I chose trust over fear.  I hug forgiveness and release bitterness.  I grab life over death.   There is only one thing that I refuse to let go of during my walk here on earth...Jesus.  And that is all I really need.