kids say the darnest things...

Every morning ritual school is the same. We get to school between 8-8:20 a.m. Say my usual "Good mornings" to teachers in the hallway and to Kay our supervisor. Then I unload my bag of crap filled with essentials - my planner, my sack-o-pencils, my journal, my Challenge and Living Faith prayer books (thanks Ate!), my novel (courtesy of Julie :) The Shadow in the Wind, some stationary (for letters to write when I have time to spare), whatever shoes I plan to wear for the day, my Bath and Body works lotion (courtesy of Paul!), my mini-scrapbook of quotes, and my trusty purple Nalgene filled with h2o.

Then, I fill it up with my school stuff - folders and papers, photocopies of phonics worksheets and alphabet and sight-word flashcards galore. Sometimes, my lip gloss gets lost in the mix. After packing the pack, I have 20 minutes to kill - usually checking the email or reading my prayer books or if I'm really ambitious - journaling.

It isn't until I walk into the classroom that the ritual is shifted by the things my kiddos say. Some days are nothing out of the ordinary: one kid's picking his nose and the girl next to him has snot coming down one nostril; another girl is commenting on my wearing a skirt and a boy is showing me his latest "boo-boo."

Then there are those special days when I'm short with the kids... And I constantly have to yell to get their attention or tell them they have to spend recess with me (dreadful, I know...).

And then --- there are the days when a student will come to my Center station, sit and diligently do her work and she'll ask, "Teacher, teacher - will you be a grandma when we have babies?"

heeheeheeheeheehee

I laughed, smiled, and said, "Yes, maybe I will... haha."

But her question made me think... I remember the students in middle school who have asked me, "Where's your husband?" "Have any kids?" "You're old, why aren't you married?" "Don't you want kids?" [My answers to these questions: a gentle smile and laugh --- God has a plan... hehe]

Their reality is far more different from mine. At the tender age of 16, some of these precious babies are having their own babies. By the time these newborns enter school, mommy or daddy is only 22, 24 years old... If not younger.

So when I thought about Nakola's question again, I started to wonder if any of my kindergarten kiddos would be poppin babies when they're 15-16 years old. That would be in approximately 10 years... That means I'd be in my early-mid 30s. [say whaaaa??! already?!] And I'll probably only be starting to have my own babies... which means I'd be giving birth at same time as some of my kiddos?

Wow. My head is spinning from thinking about all of that! And to think, it all began with such a simple question...

"Teacher, teacher will you be a grandma when we have babies?"

Runaway Run

In the movie Forest Gump, Forest decided that he felt like running. So he got up, left his home and ran. So did I.

Today, I had this urge to run. To run away from my house. To get away from my roommates. To leave behind the stories of my kiddos in school and youth group. To run away from Billings and the challenge of being here.

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands

Today, I had this urge to run. To run away from the pictures, letters, and emails from home. To temporarily let go of the memories of home – of Seattle, of Cali. To escape the pain of missing family and friends.

And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe

So I left. I left my quirky south-side white house with blue trimmings, and I ran. I ran across the wet pavement with melting snow and slush hitting the bottom of my running shoes. I ran with the clothes on my back, holding my house keys and shoving my headphones in my ears. I ran. And I walked. Then I ran some more. And walked again.

There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.

I ran around our neighborhood to South Park and then I turned around and ran back. I had no destination, no idea of where I was going or what I wanted to do. I just felt like running. And as I ran, a pain started to increase in my chest. So I’d start walking. Then I decided, ”Ok, I’m ready to run.” But that pain would come back. So I ran and walked back and forth, with no destination in mind. And as Anna Nalick began singing “And breathe… just breathe” I thought, no matter how far I try to run or how much I want to escape my reality, my truth, my life, I can’t. Because the reality of whatever pain I am experiencing will follow me wherever I go. It’s a part of me.

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

Eventually, my run led me to another park and my ultimate destination ended up being the swings. Two swings. I sat down and looked into the sky where the sunset radiated beautiful orange and red tones. And I thought, it’s just me and God. Or at least, it has to be.

“In order for God to increase, we must decrease,” says Fanny my kindergarten teacher.

I started swinging, while my mp3 continued to blare out my favorites, and as Michelle Branch came on, I started singing. At the park. On the swings. By myself. Singing. In the southside of Billings, Montana.

As I was singing and swinging, I looked at the empty swing that sat next to me and I thought, “That one’s for You.”

So I'm a little left of center
I'm a little out of tune
Some say I'm paranormal
So I just bend their spoon
Who wants to be ordinary
In a crazy, mixed-up world
I don't care what they're sayin'
As long as I'm Your girl…

You get me
When nobody understands
You come and take the chance
’Cause You get me…

The world seemed to slow down at that moment. I looked up and saw the branches gently blowing with the breeze. I saw the color of the sun diminish and the moon start to appear. The wind got colder and I could feel my lips tingle from the cold air. I was suddenly aware of every sensation and movement around me. So I flew higher and higher on my swing.

Your love is extravagant.
Your friendship, it is intimate.
I feel like moving to the rhythms of your grace
Your fragrance is intoxicating in our secret place.

Your love is extravagant.
Spread wide in the arms of Christ
Is the love that covers sin.
No greater love have I ever known
You considered me a friend.
Capture my heart again.

The saying goes "Ignorance is bliss." Thomas Gray, I'm not sure where you were going with this. My thoughts? Ignorance can be pain.

When an adolescent looks at you and says, "I hate Chinese people," how are you supposed to react?

I'm not angry with him. I don't even hate him. I'd hug him right now if he were standing in front of me and smile too. The kid suffers from tourette syndrome and I have great sympathy for him; he doesn't know what he's saying...

But I am saddened and frustrated by the fact that racial discrimination is so prominent. That even I contribute to it every now and then. I was privileged and blessed enough to grow up in a large city where, despite the presence of racial discrimination, there was still a greater awareness and exposure to it. I could walk down a block and see someone who had "almond-shaped eyes" or who came from the continent of Asia. I could go to church, look around, and see a crowd of white, black, brown, yellow, red, blue, purple - you name it - people worshiping.

Now, it's a miracle if I see someone who looks even slightly like me. And I didn't realize this ethnic culture shock I was experiencing until this evening.

"I hate Chinese people." I'm frozen.

....

You don't understand. Don't try to justify or rationalize. Let me experience the hurt. Let me try to work through the tears. Let me seek wisdom and knowledge - forgiveness of my sins and those of others.

Free them

8 January 2007

Today during my Reading Recovery session with Jonathan, two very drastic things happened -
Number one: The kid farted. hahah
Number two: He told me his aunt almost died after taking too many pills.

That is the reality of my daily life in Pryor. Silly things happen but they are taken over by serious realities that these poor kids encounter. These kids have to grow up so fast. Too fast. This kid is only in 1st grade and that is his reality.

What was my reality in 1st grade? I was wearing a red plaid jumper, running around the playground. The worst thing that happened to me was when the school principal caught me whispering something in my classmate's ear. Turns out, I was convincing Charlyn to purposely exclude Rachelle. The irony of this all - Rachelle's my best friend to this day. That is the worst experience I could think of during my first grade year.

It breaks my heart to know that Jonathan already knows about suicide, that 5-year-old Kaysera misses her Mommy too much because she can't take care of her while she is busy drinking, and that 2nd grader Skylar was supposed to get a gun this weekend. And that is the reality of these children's lives. God bless their hearts.


I saw Freedom Writers with Courtney. And I saw how this teacher fought for the well-being of her students. She wanted them to succeed. She wanted them to learn. She wanted to challenge them to use their reality and bring it into their classroom to teach one another about hardship and unity, family and community. She made the classroom their safe haven - their homes.

And it made me think about my kids... I couldn't help but feel guilty. I don't love my kids as much as they need to be loved. I lose my patience too easily. I don't fully understand their reality. I look back on this journal entry that I wrote two weeks ago and I forget that this is their reality. I become more concerned about getting their homework packets back or take out the frustration I am experiencing with the roommates on my kids. My impatience reflects my fatigue or the internal stress I'm holding and I'm placing it on children who don't need that because they come to this school everyday seeking safety and care, comfort and love.

There are days I pray that I have easy moments with my students - where they are all geniuses and they just get it...that students out on the playground listen to me when I tell them to stop fighting or arguing. But the truth is, I don't have it easy. I have to push my students and teach them to understand basic phonics or the structure of a nonfiction story. I have to yell at students and tell them to be kind to one another, even if they retaliate and tell me, "I don't have to listen to you. You're not my mom." At the end of the day, I'm relieved to be driving away back into Billings.

But what kind of love am I demonstrating? None. Truth is, I need to love these kids. I need to show them love and give them love and share the love that exists within me. Even if I'm exhausted or stressed or frustrated by personal issues I'm experiencing. Because they deserve to be loved. And that's what I came out here to do... But sometimes, it's hard.

The gift that keeps on giving...

"The happiest of people don't necessarily have
the best of everything;
they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Happiness lies ahead for those who cry, those who hurt,
those who have searched, and those who tried...
for only they can appreciate the importance of people
who have touched their lives."

Search. No words can convey how absolutely powerful this retreat was for me. And I made my Search four years ago... I am still profoundly impacted by the tears that come from going through my Search box and photos, all the memorabilia and paraphernalia years later... God really moved in a powerful way and God continues to use this experience as a stronghold in my life as my Search journey goes on.

"...tomorrow starts my first search without you and it just won't be the same. so i'll deal with the group hugs and stuff, but more than anything, i'll be thinking of you." :*| Enjoy the gift that keeps on giving. Love and love more...

Year in Review: 2006

Here's to 2006... Many thanks to the people, the places, the things, the Jesus and God who gave me these memories and experiences.

* Note to Kathee: I saw your post and thought, "Wow, I had the same idea in mind!"

And here's to 2007!

The way I see it...

To pray well I must first find out where I am.
Self-knowledge is never procured cheaply.

To pray well I need to face up to realities about myself that I would prefer to ignore: my anxieties, fears, private griefs, failures, lovelessness, my utter lack of resources.

To accept the truth about what I am, and also the truth about other human beings, demands courage.
If I do not pray well, it is usually because I lack that kind of courage.

Once I have confronted and accepted - as far as possible - that I am a needy person, the act of turning toward God is relatively easy. It is not faith in God that is hard, but the renunciation of illusory faith in myself. To turn toward God means, first, turning away from what is untrue or delusory - no matter how much comfort it brings.

Way to speak the truth, LIVING FAITH. Ate and I had a pretty poignant discussion about my experiences in Montana during one of our long drives. "Honesty hour" as she likes to call them. Somehow, the two of us always come back to the metaphor of a mirror. When the ugliness of reality hits, I always describe it as a mirror shattering into a million pieces; at that point, I am incapable of picking them up and putting them together. Ate reminded me that I need to see my own reflection because what people may see and reflect back to me isn’t necessarily who I am. Four years and six Search Retreats later, I’m still asking myself, “Who am I?” I have no doubt that I’ll be answering that question for the rest of my life.

Greetings, 2007

I can't believe it's 2007. Unreal how time flies! Too bad I don't have much energy to write anything of much consequence... except this - it is my desire to be more intentional about documenting my experiences here in Montana.

People ask me what it's like, and I can barely respond. I don't think I even know what I'm experiencing.

2006 was an amazing year. A year of accomplishment. A year of brokenness. A year of joy. A year of dreams. A year of tribulation. A year of loss. A year of love. A year of heartache. A year of LIFE. A year that led me down this path to JVC.

So here's to another year of life... a year to find the truest, purest love - a year to find and truly know God. Peace, love, and blessings to your year.

...Christmas time is here...

It's been a stressful but fun week. Paul arrived on Wednesday evening to visit and we've had quite the festivities! Hurrah! And now, I'm sick with a whiny scratchy voice. Hurrah again. Here's some photos that capture the past week:

My Kindergartener Kiddos...
I got weepy watching them sing and perform the Nativity.

Paul!!! Yay!

Merry Christmas from the JVs!

Our tree Fraiser, awaiting the coming of Jesus.

cool christmas factoids...

ORIGIN OF
"THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS"

An Underground Catechism

You're all familiar with the Christmas song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas" I think. To most it's a delightful nonsense rhyme set to music. But it had a quite serious purpose when it was written.

It is a good deal more than just a repetitious melody with pretty phrases and a list of strange gifts.

Catholics in England during the period 1558 to 1829, when Parliament finally emancipated Catholics in England, were prohibited from ANY practice of their faith by law - private OR public. It was a crime to BE a Catholic.

"The Twelve Days of Christmas" was written in England as one of the "catechism songs" to help young Catholics learn the tenets of their faith - a memory aid, when to be caught with anything in *writing* indicating adherence to the Catholic faith could not only get you imprisoned, it could get you hanged, or shortened by a head - or hanged, drawn and quartered, a rather peculiar and ghastly punishment I'm not aware was ever practiced anywhere else. Hanging, drawing and quartering involved hanging a person by the neck until they had almost, but not quite, suffocated to death; then the party was taken down from the gallows, and disembowelled while still alive; and while the entrails were still lying on the street, where the executioners stomped all over them, the victim was tied to four large farm horses, and literally torn into five parts - one to each limb and the remaining torso.

The songs gifts are hidden meanings to the teachings of the faith. The "true love" mentioned in the song doesn't refer to an earthly suitor, it refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person. The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge which feigns injury to decoy predators from her helpless nestlings, much in memory of the expression of Christ's sadness over the fate of Jerusalem: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem! How often would I have sheltered thee under my wings, as a hen does her chicks, but thou wouldst not have it so..."

The other symbols mean the following:

2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues
4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament, the "Pentateuch", which gives the history of man's fall from grace.
6 Geese A-laying = the six days of creation
7 Swans A-swimming = the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments
8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit
10 Lords A-leaping = the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed

--Fr. Hal Stockert 12/17/95

SOURCE: http://www.cin.org/twelvday.html

the Little Women of Billings

I feel the holiday spirit coming closer and closer as each day of December goes by. Last night, we had a no-power evening - which literally means no use of electricity (with the exception of water, plug-in radios/alarm clocks, and our heat - I guess those are a lot of exceptions) and we celebrated a Spirituality Night. Katie and Megan prepared good Advent reflections and we even made a fresh Advent wreath, complete with fresh evergreen boughs and the purple and pink candles. We even lit the first purple candle for the first week of Advent.

I think what brought me the most joy was singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs - in opera voices, chipmunk voices - you name it. It was a scene out of Little Women and I was genuinely happy to be in the company of my roommates. I felt a warm tingly feeling just looking at everyone around the table, throwing green boughs around and creating a massive mess on our kitchen table and floor. We also got a fresh cut Christmas tree whom we named "Fraiser" since he's a Fraiser Tree. (I was totally talking to our Tree saying, "Hi Tree!" and it brought fond memories of dear Tri. Awwwwwww)

Tonight was also another joyful time. In lieu of St. Nicholas Day, Erin and I stuffed our roommates' shoes with goodies - Hershey kisses, festive sprinkles, special chocolates and coffee, and hand-written ornaments. Then, in the midst of our top secret mission, Courtney came down the stairs for her nightly trip to the lou but didn't seem to notice anything! *phew*

These two nights - this is where I felt most like myself... first night - being a complete fool and singing joyfully, even if I was off-key or didn't know the words, and getting surprises ready.

Awaiting His coming...

Onward, Christian Soldier.

Do I go on or do I turn back? Go on...

I'm well into my fourth month of being a JV and I am still lost, confused, saddened. I wake up some days feeling like this is the right path, this is where God led me and this is where I am meant to be. And then there are other days, I feel this pain in my chest like my breath has been taken from me and all I want to do is yell but all I can do is swallow that air.

It's a dichotomy of emotions. It really is. And yet I know this is where God wanted me. I'm just being challenged in a way I predicted... but I didn't realize how painful and exhausting it would be.

I miss the things that make me passionate about life --- my family, my friends, retreats, mission trips, club activities and performances... But I just have to have faith.

The way I see it, faith is more of the ability to persevere than perfect it. And that is one of the hardest things to do. God doesn't ask us to be perfect...maybe He doesn't want us to be. But He hopes that we persevere and grow in our faith. And sometimes, the perseverance is the more exhausting and challenging part of this journey called life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

JVC Billings 2006-2007

Thank you God for our food, our home, and each other.
Bless our family and friends, all the people of the world, and the earth we share.
Give us compassion for those we serve;
Make us mindful of those less fortunate;
And keep our hearts open to hear your voice.
Amen.

Look into the Mirror

Today as the students were lining up from recess duty, this one kid in the 4th grade told me,

"Hey, you shouldn't wear that make-up anymore. It isn't Halloween anymore."

ouch.

I was already having a pretty shitty day and this kid just made it worse - even though I know shouldn't take things like this personally. Well, fact of the matter is, and it stung for a bit. An hour later, I got teary-eyed at the Veteran's Day program where all the kids dressed in red, white, and blue and sang to the Veteran's of the Crow tribe. I was so moved.

I told my roommate Courtney about this kid's comment and how it brought me down. She interpreted it as this: "Maybe this kid could really see what's inside of you and is telling you that you don't need to hide things; that you just need to be genuine with your feelings and let them show. Maybe it means you don't need the "make-up" to cover up what's inside."

wow. i heart her and her positive perspective on life. when you feel somewhat isolated from what you're used to and from people you love, it can be hard to wash off the make-up or put on a mask to protect your vulnerability. But you just gotta let it go...

Thanks, Loni.

Live in Fear?

Fear. How would you define fear in your life? Fear of heights? Fear of the dark? Fear of spiders?

Well, I just discovered my fear. I've discovered my fear of raw chicken in the whole. In my attempt to be domestic and to cook "fine dining" for my roommates, I chose to make herb-roasted chicken (garnished with lemon-black pepper, basil, sage, and garlic), home-made mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and corn.

As I was washing the chicken out, I started to fear that this creature would come back alive. I felt its bones, its breast, its insides... and I seriously freaked out. There was something odd about washing this poor thing that - if it were alive, it would be pecking around and flapping its wings about.

I was disturbed and perturbed. I'm dead serious. What's gonna happen when I grow up and have kids and a husband and am craving chicken and I get freaked out about touching it? Holding it? Washing it? YECK.

And yet, the chicken is now in the oven, baking and roasting away. And it smells pretty dang good.