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.

Close Encounters of the Beach Kind

"Do you know what I just saw?!"

His question, prefaced by a sharp intake of breath and laced with urgency, struck a little fear in my heart. We were at the beach, and he and I were taking a Cheez-It break while his brother and sister played down by the water.

I stalled a bit, because I knew what I'd just seen: a European woman who'd removed her bikini top just a short distance from us (and then took her sweet time getting dressed).  Clearly she didn't get the "family beach" memo.

And he's six years old.  Too old for the women's locker room, so to speak.

"No...what did you just see?"  My mind was racing with explanations (to him and to his mom when we came home).

"A SANDY CHEEZ-IT!"  He leaned back and laughed, pointing to his half-buried crackers. Never have I been so glad for a child to dump his snack in the sand.

Post-It Notes and Intentions

If you came over tonight, it's a good bet that your first question would be, "What's with the orange post-it notes everywhere?" I'd be happy to explain:

A nasty fall yesterday left me with an open scrape the size of a dime on my foot. Circumstances of the fall being what they were, the scrape was more or less left unattended. Unfortunately, it wasn't content with its lack of care. Today, it upped its demands on my attention with a little swelling, red streaks, and pain whenever I put weight on my foot, all obvious signs of infection. Wonderful. The urgent care doctor confirmed my suspicions. I picked up a prescription, brought it home, set it on the table, and...forgot.

It took another hour of hobbling around the kitchen before I finally remembered. The antibiotic! Right! I have something to fight this infection AND I'M NOT USING IT!

That situation has now been rectified. The first pill has been swallowed. Soon, my foot will feel like it's on my side again...as long as I stick to the program, that is. My job is to remember to take my Keflex four times a day for the next ten days. A small task, but one I don't exactly trust my memory for. As already demonstrated tonight, my follow-through isn't the greatest.

Thus, the neon signs and charts on the bathroom mirror, the refrigerator, the door, and my computer, all reminding me to do my part in combating the opportunistic bacteria in my foot. I want the infection TO LEAVE.

I wonder what my life would look like if I were so careful to follow through on other things I KNOW I should do...the things that perhaps aren't so easy as making a chart or swallowing a pill. Like when I know I need to humble myself and apologize...but I never quite bring up the topic in conversation. Or when I'm aware of a need within my arm's reach...and I never quite get that meal made or card sent.

My dad likes to remind me that while we tend to measure others by their actions, we frequently measure ourselves by our intentions. Intentions don't fight infection, however. Neither do they heal relationships or put food on an empty table. Action does.

I believe that obeying God's Word can bring about radical change in me and the situations around me, just like I believe that my Keflex can effectively defeat the infection in my foot. In both cases, however, I have to put my belief into action. Intentions, lofty though they may be, just don't cut it.

"But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing." James 1:25

Sign Me Up For That Bargain

My 14-year-old sister and I saw the following license plate this afternoon:

IM2DLS

Curiosity (and creative interpretations) abounded. My favorite was hers: "I'm two deals."

I thought about it for a minute. "That doesn't make sense."

"Yes it does," she countered. "Like, I make the money AND I'll rub your feet at night!"

Life Soundtrack, on Repeat

I think I might have jinxed myself.

It started months ago, when my roommate received Jason Gray's new album as a Christmas gift. One listen, and it became my go-to CD whenever I was home. To say that I was enamored is putting it mildly. (Tiff can attest to my infatuation; I didn't hesitate to reassure her of my enthusiasm. We lost count of how many times I've gushed, "I LOVE THIS CD!")

February came and went, and the gushing continued: "I'm still not tired of this CD! I love every song!" Finally, in March, I copied the CD and brought it in my car (hoping that my morning passengers would love it as much as I do).

Something odd happened that fateful day, however. When my sister tried to eject Jason Gray in favor of Sara Groves, he refused to come out. Two months later, he's still stuck. The CD plays -it starts automatically as soon as I turn the key- but it will not be moved.


This new circumstance presents a choice every time I get into my car, albeit a subtle one. When I'm paying attention, I think, "My mind needs something different!", and I switch to the radio for my MPR fix. However, I'm embarrassed by how often I get twenty minutes down the road before I realize that I am once again singing along to the same three songs. For lack of conscious intervention, I've allowed this CD to become my unofficial driving soundtrack. These thirteen songs are permanently stuck in my head. It's not bad (have I told you I love this CD?), but I'm not sure it's good for me, either. It's narrow at best, depriving at worst.

God's been speaking to me about my life soundtrack lately. Not so much about Jason Gray, but about the thought patterns which loop continuously in my mind all day long -- for better or for worse. The moment I wake up, the same old cd (the mix labeled "Old Anxieties and Insecurities Under New Names") starts to play. It moves effortlessly from that vague conversation I had with a friend last week (and things I wish I'd asked) to the insulting comment from a relative (and the underlying meaning) to the cryptic e-mail that I could interpret ten different ways, and even to the wardrobe choices I have for the event next weekend (which one will make me feel most confident?).

I break up the shallow, self-centered playlist to worry about other people in my life, wondering about their choices, their options, their friends, their difficulties, their health, and my connection to each one. It feels more noble than overthinking my own life, but isn't any more fruitful. That worry has a way of paralyzing me from loving involvement in their lives.

Before I know it, I've spent my entire day singing along to the same four songs, and my soul is miserable. Talk about being stuck.

It takes effort -mindfulness- to think differently. But God continues to remind me that there are other soundtracks available, if I'm willing to change the station:

"And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12:2)
"Set your mind on things above, and not on things on the earth." (Colossians 3:2)

I heard two quotes recently which resonate with this theme:

"The most important choice you make every day is what you choose to think about." - Chip Ingram

"Spiritual battles are won or lost in the day-to-day thoughts we harbor." - Carolyn McCulley, Radical Womanhood

I can't change my life circumstances (I can't even change the cd in my car!), but I can choose what I will listen to and sing along with.

Toothbrushes and Opossums

It has NOT been boring in first and second grade lately.
***

Best attempt to get out of cursive practice:

"You know what, Miss Djerf? You're not respecting who I am. You're just trying to change me!"

I had to explain that no, actually, I AM supposed to change some things about my students, their handwriting being one of those things. But nice try...

Best prayer request of the week (from a second grader who'd had a tough start to her day):

"Um, can we pray that we don't have to pay to fix the plumbing at my house? Because I accidentally flushed my toothbrush down the toilet this morning."


The best question (in the middle of a lesson on the day of Pentecost):

"Miss Djerf, why were there opossums in the upper room?"

Until today, I never realized how closely related the words "apostle" and "opossum" are. I'm glad he asked, though. It really puts the story in a different light to be imagining opossums praising God in different tongues with flames of fire on their heads.

An Easter Meditation on...Immigration?

Last week, I took my students to a class about immigrants to Minnesota. After establishing that we were mostly natives to the state, the instructor asked, "Does anyone know how every single one of us is connected to an immigrant?"

Though we'd been reading about immigrants for weeks, something about her wording threw the whole class off. They sat there, confused, for several seconds before Ira raised his hand and offered the standard Christian school guess: "Jesus?"

To my delight (and respect!), the teacher rolled with it! "Well, I suppose you COULD say that Jesus was an immigrant..." she replied thoughtfully, chuckling. "A different kind of one. He was more of a celestial immigrant, wasn't he?"

She smiled, paused, and moved on.

I, however, haven't moved on yet. So much to chew on in two words! A "celestial immigrant" -- how very different Jesus was from the immigrants we studied, and yet how appropriate a title.

We've read that immigrants came to the United States in search of a better life, to flee war or famine, or to escape persecution, to name a few reasons. All were hopeful that their lives would improve here. They came to better themselves, their families, and their futures.

In contrast, we are told the following about Jesus,
"...though he was in the form of God...[he] made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." (Philippians 2:6-8, ESV)

Second Corinthians 8:9 also speaks of the sacrifice He made in coming to us:
"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich."

Nothing about Jesus' coming was easy. He lived a simple life amongst an oppressed people. The climax of his earthly life and ministry -the cross- certainly doesn't fall under our ideas of "success" or "a better life." Never once did He take a "I'm-actually-God-so-I'm-just-going-to-skip-this-part" shortcut. He didn't come to enrich Himself in any way.

That's impressive by itself. This celestial immigrant demands my respect, if nothing else. But to realize that it was so that I might become rich? I, who had nothing to offer Him, being "qualified to share in the inheritance of the saints in Light?" I move from being impressed to awed. Overwhelmed.

This Holy Week, may the reality of the incarnation pierce our hearts and cause us to worship! May the glory of this Celestial Immigrant, who came to reconcile us to Himself, not to be served (which He deserved) but to serve, cause us to say along with Thomas, "My Lord and my God!"

"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)

Real-Life Application; or, Quotes Borrowed From Third Grade

Two quotes currently on the favorites board in our kitchen:

"It's not like when I grow up and buy a house, I'm going to pay them in Base 10 blocks!"

- A third grader in Tiffany's class frustrated by her emphasis on concept over speed or procedure. Feeling bogged down by the use of Base 10 blocks during a multiplication lesson, he made his case against them (rather convincingly, if you ask me).

***
"Where's the yelling?"

- A dad at spring parent-teacher conferences after Tiff showed him his daughter's most recent writing assignment, a flowery description of her family's morning routine before coming to school. Apparently, she left out a few details.

Great Kid Quotes You Can Use In Your Everyday Life

Stick a couple of these authentic first and second grade quotes in your back pocket, and you'll never be speechless again. (People may look at you with strange expressions on their faces when you talk, but that already happens, doesn't it?)

"You wouldn't live a DAY in MY body!"

- A second grader (who yelled this across the room at another student, for no evident reason - making it even more useful)

"I think I tore a limb."

- The same second grader, referring to a gym-class injury. He has a gift for the dramatic.

And now, a creative writing tutorial from another second grader. The next time you need embellishment, perhaps you can draw inspiration from this young man.

The assignment? Write at least six lines about the Hansel and Gretel opera we saw. Here is his first (one-line) attempt:

Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them.

Grouchy dictator that I am, I demanded more details. At least five lines worth of details, to be exact. It's possible I even instructed him to be creative. He hemmed and hawed, and then an idea dawned on his face. I want to hang the finished product on my refrigerator:

Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them from getting eaten and killed and curceds or torchered or cut or blood presher or heat attack or getting sick or captured or drowning and from the night.

So it might not follow the opera's story line exactly. But he met the six-line minimum, and you have to admit, it's pretty darn creative.