What Do You Get When You Cross the WWF with Overgrown Rodents? Recess, Naturally

Stepped back as a stream of heavily insulated children thumped past me, all in pursuit of one fourth grade boy.  Snagged one I know to be a storyteller, inquiring, "What on earth are you guys playing?"

 

He cheerfully brushed snow from his face. "It's a fun game. We all chase Bart, and then we pile drive him!"

 

I was obligated to create a new rule. "Hey, no pile driving at recess."

 

"I know," he responded, "but if we don't, then HE touches US, and he turns us into mutant gerbils, just like he is!"

 

Which made the pile driving entirely acceptable, of course.  Can't have a bunch of mutant gerbils running around at recess.

Skinny Jeans Are Not Bread...

...in case you were wondering.

Neither are "likes" on your Facebook status, new shoes, or good hair days, for that matter.

Recently spent an evening with a precious group of girlfriends, reflecting on Scripture and life and then praying together. Much of the conversation centered on being satisfied in God, and I drank in from the wisdom and honesty of others present.

One friend's story stuck with me in particular. She told of being on the way home from work one day when she was struck by an overwhelming urge to buy a pair of skinny jeans. Right then. In the space of a few minutes, she'd transformed from a self-described non-shopper to a woman on a mission. She mentally mapped out shopping possibilities and re-routed herself, plotting and planning her acquisition.

As she pulled into the Opitz Outlet parking lot, a song by Jill Phillips came on the radio. The beginning lyrics arrested her attention:

"O gently lay your head/ upon My chest/ and I will comfort you like a mother while you rest."

In an instant, she recognized her true hunger. It had been a tough day -and week- and she was craving comfort, relief from the load of anxieties and stresses she'd shouldered all day long. What she wanted was exactly what the song described: to rest her head on a faithful Father, soak in His perfect understanding, and know that because of Him, she would not be crushed by all of the situations she could neither remove nor solve.

Regardless of your take on skinny jeans, I think we can agree that no pair of jeans is cut out for THAT task.

As a tag-along to that story, another girl read from Isaiah 55:

Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And delight yourself in abundance.

Isaiah 55:2

In a loose paraphrase: Why do you spend your energy chasing down temporary, visible things to satisfy the invisible needs of your heart?

Oh, do I relate. When I'm honest, I recognize these misplaced expectations as a source of familiar frustration. I've done my share of chasing, whether by shopping or performing or re-reading my blog comments (hint, hint). Getting a pat on the back from my boss or hearing an affirming word from a friend or finding orange leather ballet flats for five dollars (true story!) -- well, none of these is bad, exactly.

That is, unless I'm hoping that receiving them will somehow silence my inner cries for satisfaction and affirmation. When that's the case, deep disappointment inevitably follows even the sweetest gifts.

I sometimes respond to those deeper desires in the same way I deal with hunger after a long day at work: I stand in the kitchen and eat whatever's out on the counter while I pretend to find something to cook...until my appetite has been dulled and I can go on my way. Give me half a bag of chips or a pack of cookies, and I'll momentarily forget my need for a balanced meal.

But just as my body needs that nourishing meal, my soul needs time where I'm listening to God speak to my truest, neediest self. I can crunch away at fleeting reassurances (work a little longer, fish for another compliment, look in the mirror once again), but I'm still hungry (and a bit sick) down the line.

My soul wants bread, and skinny jeans –or anything else I might pursue- just won't cut it.

"Jesus said to them, 'I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst." John 6:35

"Satisfy us in the morning with Your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days." Psalm 90:14

Postscript: This post by Genevieve Thul is worth your time -- about prioritizing and consuming God's Word as the only thing that will satisfy. Read it!

Can't Argue With That

Our chapel theme last week was "God is the sovereign creator of all things." To illustrate the point that creation reveals the nature of its Creator, I brought out a drawing that I'd done with my pastels earlier in the week. I'd taken a little drawing time after school one day, and I was pleased with the result. The picture communicated that I still possess some artistic talent.

I was compelled to explain, however, that in my case, my creation also reveals my limitations. Having had no training with pastels and little practice, my technique is poor at best. "This picture shows you a little of what I can do with pastels. There are a lot of things I can't do with pastels, though."

"Yeah," piped up a third grader. "like, you can't brush your teeth with pastels."

True. Not what I was attempting to communicate, but so true.

Not That We Don't Love Cookies

Taylor was antsy all Thursday, knowing that his grandparents were coming to visit sometime that afternoon. At his request, Grandma was bringing cookies.

Unfortunately, the cookies and grandparents showed up just as we were beginning our independent writing time. I expected to cut writing short, but Taylor -at the beginning, my most reluctant writer- surprised me.

From his cozy workspace under a table, he looked up at Grandma and said, "Um, can you come back later? I'm busy writing right now."

I think I managed to control my facial expression, but I was doing internal fist pumps like crazy.

Things That Are Most in First and Second Grade

Funniest tattle:

"Ms. Djerf, Ashton called me a zebra!"

This was accompanied by tears and everything. And perhaps a few covert chuckles from Ms. D.

Most direct answer to "Write about what the ocean floor looks like:"

"I can tell you what.

It is not strate."

Thank you, I'll remember that.

Most descriptive prayer request:

"Um, I have a cough. And then, when I sniffle, boogers go down my throat, and then I have to hack them up."

She was ready to provide even more information on this topic, but we moved on.

Least helpful response to a classmate's prayer request about a grandma's illness:

"That could kill her! Is she still alive?!"

This reminded me of the time someone told a (probably not true) story about nearly being run over by a motorcycle. They all sat for a moment, wowed by the gravity of the situation, and then one first grader asked softly, "Did you survive?"

Most unusual tattle:

"Ms. Djerf, Ms. Djerf, someone keeps organizing my crayons!"

It was with great disappointment that I persuaded this young man that no benevolent desk-organizing fairy (or fellow classmate) was at work in our classroom. Because, oh, do I want to believe in that fairy. If only she would pay a visit to MY desk!

Reading for a Hopeful Ending

After multiple evenings away from home, last night I allowed myself the luxury of time on the couch with a novel. The narrative and characters of Home, by Marilynne Robinson, have captured my attention in a way I didn't expect (her last book, Gilead, was beautiful, but I wouldn't call it gripping), and I continue turning "just one more page before I go to bed..."

 

You probably wouldn't label this book as "gripping," either.  I'm not on the edge of my seat, reeling from dramatic plot twists.  Rather, I feel like I've been sitting at Glory Boughton's kitchen table, listening to her haltingly unpack her heart, and I cannot walk away without her story continuing to whisper in my ear.  I care about what happens to Glory and her wayward brother, Jack, and I want to keep reading.  But Robinson isn't hurrying this, so neither can I.

 

Different books require various kinds of reading. I'll admit to skimming chick lit, reading for the ending, even though I already know the girl will get the guy. Well-written literature, however, requires its readers to walk through life at the pace of the characters, to feel what they're feeling.  When I read a book such as this one, a subtle shift happens within me. Instead of seeking the happy ending, where every last loose end is sewn up in the epilogue, I become hungry for a hopeful ending. 

 

I want Glory to find genuine fulfillment in her life. I want Jack to find his place in his family and this world.  I want there to be a resolution to the deep questions resounding silently within these characters. Marilynne Robinson has made me yearn for redemption in the midst of brokenness, and I keep reading, hoping to find it.  I'm waiting for it to show up, ready to cherish the smallest evidences of hope.

 

I think we're made to live life in a similar way to how good fiction must be read. We have to engage.  Choosing to feel the weight of our own or someone else's plot twists can feel heavy, tedious, painful. But it also makes us yearn for redemption.  When we truly feel the destructive force of sin and the messiness of our fallen world, we become hungry for better.  It makes us remember that this world is not our home, that we were made for eternity. 

 

I'm going to keep turning those pages.

Looking For Trouble

Thoughts are bursting out from my soul like popcorn. 

Just returned from a powerful, deep, five-hour(!) seminar entitled "Suffering for the Sake of the Body," and I feel compelled to wrestle with what I just consumed. Or one point, anyhow, since I can't go every direction at once.

Cognitively, I understand that suffering is a part of being a follower of Christ.  I'm glad that God in His Word prepares us for difficult times, telling us not to be surprised when they arrive.  And I'm even more grateful for His many promises that no pain experienced on this earth can outweigh the eternal future He's prepared for us.  I'm well aware that God often does His deepest, most profound works in us through suffering.

At smoother times of my life, however, this knowledge has left me with a question: If I'm not suffering much right now, should I be seeking suffering?  Should I, for God's glory and my own growth, be trying to make my life harder?

I remembered today that I wrestled with this question much of my senior year of college. After four years at an Christian college in an urban setting, sitting in chapels every day about pouring one's life out for God, I'd acquired a sense that there were (mostly difficult) places which were more meaningful in God's kingdom than others, and that the work done there was more significant to Him.

I wasn't in those places, but I had an idea that I was supposed to be, probably teaching middle-school somewhere in the inner city. Getting in there and doing what REALLY mattered.  Suffering through the grimmest situations and seeing God work.

Then I got a job in a suburban Christian school teaching first grade, which I had viewed as both easy and insignificant. I knew God had directed me there, but didn't expect it to be difficult.

And then, every day for the first two months, I thought I was going to die – or at least fail dramatically. For all the success I had experienced in college and even in student teaching, I was ill-prepared for the way it demanded so much more than I had to give.

In the big scheme of things, the suffering was small. I know this. For the first time in my life, however, I experienced what it was to be perpetually empty in a situation which requires you to be perpetually full.   And this pushed me toward God like nothing in my life had before.

Previously, I'd measured my status before God by my own contributions to the relationship.  Desperation and brokenness, however, swept my feet out from beneath me, and I discovered that I didn't stand before God based on my work. I stood before Him as His child based on who He is and what Christ has done on my behalf.  For the first time, I rested truly on Him, and found Him to be enough.

 I wouldn't trade that year for anything.  

 I've faced much more difficult situations since then, and never once because I was looking for pain.  Simply following Jesus where He's led has, at times, put me in places where I've been called upon to screw my faith deeper into Him than it was before.  

Knowing this, then, I'm not going to be a spiritual tornado-chaser. I am, however, challenged today to follow Christ ever closer, trusting that wherever He brings me -even if it hurts!- will be for His glory and my good.

 "... for I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me." 2 Timothy 1:12

You Tell 'Em, Brother

I'm a fairly structured [read: bossy] teacher, so I tend to dictate many aspects of classroom life. However, I always love to see what's revealed about each student's personality when I remove parameters and allow them to choose. My favorite today was a free writing "story" that came from a sweet first grader:

My school doesn't put up with any nonsense. My family doesn't either.

That was it. I will hereafter think of him as a sweet, rather straight-laced first grader (who perhaps has a secret desire to get away with a little nonsense?)...

I Wonder What OSHA Would Do With This?

Last Thursday, I experienced my first work-related injury of the year.  And quite possibly, the most foolish one of my career.

 

The cause of my headache and sore neck? A lively (and thoughtless!) demonstration for my class of what would happen to you if you did a spacewalk OUTSIDE of a rocket while it was being launched.

 

Let's just say at least one of us got the point.