I love those opportunities at work where I get to learn from my students. Or, as in this case, when I learn from fellow educators as they are teaching our students. The other day, our head of school came to chapel to talk to the kids about hope. Hope is our chapel theme for the month of December, and I think it is a really hard concept for kids to understand (it's a hard concept for me to understand!) The head of school stood at the podium and showed us a box of chocolates. He said his mother gives him a box every year for Christmas. Every time he bites into a candy, he hopes to find coconut filling. He bit into a piece of candy right there at the podium, wrinkled his nose, and said, "It's not coconut. It tastes like sour chocolate." When he finished chewing, he said, "I hoped the filling would be coconut. It's not. But in the end, I'm still standing here eating candy at 8:30 in the morning!" I think that was a pretty great metaphor for hope. You desire for something to happen; however, if it doesn't happen the way you want it to, you accept the outcome anyway. The kids seemed to get it.
Isn't this a lot like prayer? I pray persistently for what I want; however, I know that in the end I am called to accept God's plan for my life. Is that what he wants me to do? I learned as I was teaching Sunday school this weekend that there are six verses in the book of John that say God will grant us whatever we ask for. Well, if that's the case, then why am I not seeing instant results from my persistent prayers? I think-- no, I know-- that it's because God grants us the things we pray for in Jesus' name. That means praying for things that will glorify God or will help you do His work. I've been trying to keep this in mind as I pray this week. Am I praying for things that will help me be the hands and feet of God? Or am I praying for things that will benefit me without glorifying Him? I'm hoping that this exercise will help me be a little less selfish in my prayers.
Another thing we talked about in Sunday school was the concept of praying for something "in Jesus' name." Apparently all Methodist prayers should end with this phrase, and, as the teacher on our video said, this isn't just a cue to let listeners know that the pray-er is almost finished praying. It is like we are writing a "prayer check" and Jesus is signing his name on our prayers before we send them up to God. Yes, that's really cheesy. But it makes sense. Would Jesus pray for the things I am praying for? Do my prayers have the Jesus seal of approval? I think I'm failing at that right now.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Lord, beer me strength.
I have been trying lately to focus on improving my prayer life. I am not a consistent pray-er. I am that person who tries to squeeze in a quick prayer before I go to sleep each night, but I never manage to stay awake long enough to finish the prayer. Someone once said to me, "What better way to fall asleep than while talking to God?" I don't know how I feel about that, though; it sounds like a nice idea, but in the end I'm not really accomplishing anything.
I've been teaching my Sunday school class this month, and we're watching a video series about the prayers of Jesus and what we can learn from his example. Basically, we should pray persistently and with a purpose; we should seek an intimate relationship with God and make an effort to communicate with him through consistent prayer; and we shouldn't hesitate to pray whenever we need to. Sounds easy... but there's so much about prayer that I just don't do. I don't pray persistently. Maybe it's the ADD in me that keeps me from focusing on something for too long. And I don't remember to turn to God to help me out in daily situations. I love watching The Office, and one of my favorite episodes is the one where Andy uses the phrase "beer me..." to ask for things (as in "beer me that stapler.") Finally, Jim looks into the camera and says, "Lord, beer me strength." That's about the extent of my daily prayers. I have actually caught myself muttering those exact words: Lord, beer me strength. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind when he encouraged his disciples to pray.
There's so much I want to improve about my prayer habits that I hardly know where to begin. Okay, well that's not true; I did choose a starting point. I struggle with sharing my prayer requests with others. I don't know why. I guess I have this fear of becoming that person who, when asked for prayer requests, answers with "my friend's uncle's coworker's nephew's girlfriend's mom..." And why is that a problem? Yes it's random, but it's still someone's prayer request-- it's important! I am blessed to have friends who will take up my causes and pray for them. I have started reaching out and asking for prayers, and it brings peace of mind knowing that someone else is out there praying with me.
I've been teaching my Sunday school class this month, and we're watching a video series about the prayers of Jesus and what we can learn from his example. Basically, we should pray persistently and with a purpose; we should seek an intimate relationship with God and make an effort to communicate with him through consistent prayer; and we shouldn't hesitate to pray whenever we need to. Sounds easy... but there's so much about prayer that I just don't do. I don't pray persistently. Maybe it's the ADD in me that keeps me from focusing on something for too long. And I don't remember to turn to God to help me out in daily situations. I love watching The Office, and one of my favorite episodes is the one where Andy uses the phrase "beer me..." to ask for things (as in "beer me that stapler.") Finally, Jim looks into the camera and says, "Lord, beer me strength." That's about the extent of my daily prayers. I have actually caught myself muttering those exact words: Lord, beer me strength. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind when he encouraged his disciples to pray.
There's so much I want to improve about my prayer habits that I hardly know where to begin. Okay, well that's not true; I did choose a starting point. I struggle with sharing my prayer requests with others. I don't know why. I guess I have this fear of becoming that person who, when asked for prayer requests, answers with "my friend's uncle's coworker's nephew's girlfriend's mom..." And why is that a problem? Yes it's random, but it's still someone's prayer request-- it's important! I am blessed to have friends who will take up my causes and pray for them. I have started reaching out and asking for prayers, and it brings peace of mind knowing that someone else is out there praying with me.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
It's not whether you win or lose... except when you lose.
I have been thinking about competition all day today. I wish I could start this whole thing off with a snazzy Bible verse about competition, but I have to admit that I don't know of any. In fact, I just Googled it. I think maybe I'm looking for a verse that says something like, "Thou shalt not care who wins or loses, as long as thou playeth the game." Okay, my Bible doesn't use words like "playeth"-- I got carried away there. Maybe that's the Shakespeare edition.
I did find 2 Timothy 2:5, which says "If anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules." Never knew that verse was in there! And then there's 1 Corinthians 9:25, which in NIV says "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever." I actually like the English Standard Version translation of this verse better: "Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable." These verses make me think of my sweet students, who are just SO competitive with each other! Recess activities are no longer the innocent games of Red Rover that we used to play; you'd think they were competing for the World Series in kickball or something. Perhaps it's time for a devotional centered around these verses.
Surprisingly, my personal issues with competitiveness really don't have anything to do with kickball. Somewhere deep inside me is this need to win everything. For example, I recently bought a purse at a silent auction, not because I really wanted it (although it's cute, and the money went to a good cause), but more because I saw the "I'm going to win" look in the eyes of the teenage girl who was trying to outbid me. Challenge accepted! There was no way I could let her bid more than me! I proudly strolled out of there with the purse on my arm, and it has sat unused in my closet ever since. Pretty sure the moral here is that I should not participate in silent auctions.
I'm not terribly competitive about sports. When I chose to go to college at a non-SEC school, I pretty much signed away my right to be a die-hard football fan here in the south. I'm able to laugh at my alma mater's 26-game losing streak (which, I must point out, was recently broken) and the fact that our mascot, while adorable and non-offensive to all demographics, is a little goofy-looking. I'm a loyal fan, don't get me wrong, but I am able to accept the fact that we lose most of our games. Basketball season... well, that does tend to bring out the competitor in me. What my college lacks in football skills, they make up for on the basketball court. And since I grew up in Memphis and hold a Master's degree from the U of M, there's no question that I am a Tiger basketball fan. I can't quote stats (or players, really) but I can be competitive about basketball. I remember watching the Memphis/Tennessee game a couple years ago with a friend who was dressed head-to-toe in orange. I could barely talk to him by the time the game was over. I was chaperoning a youth retreat that weekend, and it took all the humility I had to pull myself together and be a good example for the students who were equally as disappointed (and mad at the UT fans) as I was.
Okay, I've managed to bring this back around to my students. How can I, the Queen of Competitive, set a good example for my students and teach them humility? I understand how frustrating it is to disagree about a bad call. Some days it's all I can do to not jump in and argue with them. How do I teach them to show respect by being patient with the student who doesn't know the rules, or by not shouting at their friend who thinks he was safe when he was clearly out? Sure, there's plenty in the Bible about the last being first, and laying down your life for your friends, and doing all things for the glory of God. But when you're six years old and that rubber ball is in your hands, and you're about to tag a kid out at home plate, you're not thinking about God.
Funny, sometimes the same thing happens when you're twenty-seven.
I did find 2 Timothy 2:5, which says "If anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules." Never knew that verse was in there! And then there's 1 Corinthians 9:25, which in NIV says "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever." I actually like the English Standard Version translation of this verse better: "Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable." These verses make me think of my sweet students, who are just SO competitive with each other! Recess activities are no longer the innocent games of Red Rover that we used to play; you'd think they were competing for the World Series in kickball or something. Perhaps it's time for a devotional centered around these verses.
Surprisingly, my personal issues with competitiveness really don't have anything to do with kickball. Somewhere deep inside me is this need to win everything. For example, I recently bought a purse at a silent auction, not because I really wanted it (although it's cute, and the money went to a good cause), but more because I saw the "I'm going to win" look in the eyes of the teenage girl who was trying to outbid me. Challenge accepted! There was no way I could let her bid more than me! I proudly strolled out of there with the purse on my arm, and it has sat unused in my closet ever since. Pretty sure the moral here is that I should not participate in silent auctions.
I'm not terribly competitive about sports. When I chose to go to college at a non-SEC school, I pretty much signed away my right to be a die-hard football fan here in the south. I'm able to laugh at my alma mater's 26-game losing streak (which, I must point out, was recently broken) and the fact that our mascot, while adorable and non-offensive to all demographics, is a little goofy-looking. I'm a loyal fan, don't get me wrong, but I am able to accept the fact that we lose most of our games. Basketball season... well, that does tend to bring out the competitor in me. What my college lacks in football skills, they make up for on the basketball court. And since I grew up in Memphis and hold a Master's degree from the U of M, there's no question that I am a Tiger basketball fan. I can't quote stats (or players, really) but I can be competitive about basketball. I remember watching the Memphis/Tennessee game a couple years ago with a friend who was dressed head-to-toe in orange. I could barely talk to him by the time the game was over. I was chaperoning a youth retreat that weekend, and it took all the humility I had to pull myself together and be a good example for the students who were equally as disappointed (and mad at the UT fans) as I was.
Okay, I've managed to bring this back around to my students. How can I, the Queen of Competitive, set a good example for my students and teach them humility? I understand how frustrating it is to disagree about a bad call. Some days it's all I can do to not jump in and argue with them. How do I teach them to show respect by being patient with the student who doesn't know the rules, or by not shouting at their friend who thinks he was safe when he was clearly out? Sure, there's plenty in the Bible about the last being first, and laying down your life for your friends, and doing all things for the glory of God. But when you're six years old and that rubber ball is in your hands, and you're about to tag a kid out at home plate, you're not thinking about God.
Funny, sometimes the same thing happens when you're twenty-seven.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Seriously, people?!
Sometimes I really have a problem with other people. I would be the happiest driver in Memphis if I had the road all to myself. I actually stormed out of DSW on Saturday because all the other shoe shoppers were getting on my nerves. That's a huge deal; I never miss a chance to shop for shoes. And I passed up the opportunity to participate in Race for the Cure because, honestly, the thought of being in a group of 19,000 women just seemed unbearable. I can't stand large crowds. I think I just imagine that every crowd is made up solely of idiots, and I picture myself trying to fight my way through the throng of idiots and eventually being trampled. I know that's irrational. Many crowds are made up of very lovely people. It's just hard to remember that as I picture worst-case crowd-related scenarios.
Actually, as I sit here and ramble on, I keep thinking of additional places where other people get on my last ever-loving nerve. The movie theater. Wouldn't it be great to be the only person in the theater? No one would talk through the previews, or text, or kick my chair, or yell things at the screen, or let their kids run up and down the stairs.
Parking lots. I get SO annoyed with people who go the wrong way down the one-way parking lot aisles. Without fail, I see someone do this every time I go to Kroger.
Live theater. Holy cow, people today have no idea how to act at the theater! The LIVE theater, where real people are acting and deserve the audience's respect! They come in late, they unwrap candies, they talk and text on their phones. I went to a show at the Orpheum a few months ago and totally missed the first five minutes of the show because a group came in late and then there were people sitting in their seats in the row in front of me. No don't worry, folks, I didn't really need to see the opening number. And don't worry, usher talking loudly in the back, I didn't need to hear it either.
Okay I know I sound really whiny and unfriendly. I think I'm a friendly person (deep down). I just think there's some part of me that acts as an idiot-radar, or maybe an idiot-magnet, so that I instantly notice the most annoying things going on around me.
And thus, my reasons for wanting to be more peaceful with the people around me. Because if I don't change soon, I'm going to have to live in solitary confinement.
Actually, as I sit here and ramble on, I keep thinking of additional places where other people get on my last ever-loving nerve. The movie theater. Wouldn't it be great to be the only person in the theater? No one would talk through the previews, or text, or kick my chair, or yell things at the screen, or let their kids run up and down the stairs.
Parking lots. I get SO annoyed with people who go the wrong way down the one-way parking lot aisles. Without fail, I see someone do this every time I go to Kroger.
Live theater. Holy cow, people today have no idea how to act at the theater! The LIVE theater, where real people are acting and deserve the audience's respect! They come in late, they unwrap candies, they talk and text on their phones. I went to a show at the Orpheum a few months ago and totally missed the first five minutes of the show because a group came in late and then there were people sitting in their seats in the row in front of me. No don't worry, folks, I didn't really need to see the opening number. And don't worry, usher talking loudly in the back, I didn't need to hear it either.
Okay I know I sound really whiny and unfriendly. I think I'm a friendly person (deep down). I just think there's some part of me that acts as an idiot-radar, or maybe an idiot-magnet, so that I instantly notice the most annoying things going on around me.
And thus, my reasons for wanting to be more peaceful with the people around me. Because if I don't change soon, I'm going to have to live in solitary confinement.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Slowing down. Way down.
I've been forced to slow down this week. And, as a warning, I am writing this while in a sinus-medicine-induced haze, so my thoughts are kind of everywhere. While I love the beauty of God's creation, I am sadly allergic to all of it. Animals, feathers, dust, mold, grass, pollen, trees... the list goes on. Way back when I was a good asthmatic with serious allergies, I dutifully took all my medicine and got weekly allergy shots. Now (big surprise) I can't seem to fit those weekly shots into my schedule, and I can't bear to shell out a $50 copay to go see the allergist, so I get by with taking the occasional Claritin and sometimes using my backup emergency Albuterol inhaler when cuddling with my puppies causes my breathing passages to close up. It could be worse.
But about twice a year, I am hit with a terrible, horrible sinus infection. And this week has been the Second Annual Sinus Infection of 2010. I could feel it coming when I woke up on Monday. Tuesday, of course, was impossibly busy. I have season tickets at the Orpheum, and Tuesday night I had big plans to go out to dinner and see Wicked, which is one of my favorite shows. By the time I got to dinner, I was so stuffed up that I couldn't taste anything. I think I had a really good chicken and pineapple sandwich at South of Beale. Everyone who tasted it said it was good. As Wicked went on, I continued to go downhill. By the end of the show, I had gone through a handful of cough drops and a purse-full of Kleenex, and I had a fever.
At this point, I just want to say that I'm proud of myself: before I went to bed that night, I made the decision that I wasn't going to work on Wednesday. I sent the necessary emails, took a big dose of whatever "may cause drowsiness" medicine I could find, and didn't even set the alarm clock. That is a big step for me. I hate missing a day of work, especially when I haven't planned for it. I feel like I have people and children who are counting on me to be there, and I don't want to let them down. The bigger issue here, though, is that I feel guilty missing a day, as if people are saying, "She's slacking off. How sick can she really be? The rest of us all come to work even when we don't feel great." I don't know if people actually say this-- I just imagine that they do. But honestly, I'm not doing myself or anyone else any favors by trying to "survive" at work on a day when I just need to be at home. I slept for twelve straight hours, went to the doctor, and (thanks to a sinus cocktail and four prescriptions) went back to work on Thursday feeling a million times better. I'm still not feeling great, but I know I feel better than I would have if I hadn't just taken a little time to slow down. It's Saturday afternoon right now, and I have had a restful weekend so far. I know my body needs it, so I'm trying to be good to myself and not push myself too hard. I want to be out there in the fall weather. I want to go on a walk, look for pretty trees, admire the Halloween decorations in the nearby neighborhoods. But not yet. Honestly, I've enjoyed having a few slow days. I may claim sinus trouble for a few more weeks, just to have an excuse to be slow about things!
On the subject of slowing down, a friend posted this on Facebook earlier this week:
But about twice a year, I am hit with a terrible, horrible sinus infection. And this week has been the Second Annual Sinus Infection of 2010. I could feel it coming when I woke up on Monday. Tuesday, of course, was impossibly busy. I have season tickets at the Orpheum, and Tuesday night I had big plans to go out to dinner and see Wicked, which is one of my favorite shows. By the time I got to dinner, I was so stuffed up that I couldn't taste anything. I think I had a really good chicken and pineapple sandwich at South of Beale. Everyone who tasted it said it was good. As Wicked went on, I continued to go downhill. By the end of the show, I had gone through a handful of cough drops and a purse-full of Kleenex, and I had a fever.
At this point, I just want to say that I'm proud of myself: before I went to bed that night, I made the decision that I wasn't going to work on Wednesday. I sent the necessary emails, took a big dose of whatever "may cause drowsiness" medicine I could find, and didn't even set the alarm clock. That is a big step for me. I hate missing a day of work, especially when I haven't planned for it. I feel like I have people and children who are counting on me to be there, and I don't want to let them down. The bigger issue here, though, is that I feel guilty missing a day, as if people are saying, "She's slacking off. How sick can she really be? The rest of us all come to work even when we don't feel great." I don't know if people actually say this-- I just imagine that they do. But honestly, I'm not doing myself or anyone else any favors by trying to "survive" at work on a day when I just need to be at home. I slept for twelve straight hours, went to the doctor, and (thanks to a sinus cocktail and four prescriptions) went back to work on Thursday feeling a million times better. I'm still not feeling great, but I know I feel better than I would have if I hadn't just taken a little time to slow down. It's Saturday afternoon right now, and I have had a restful weekend so far. I know my body needs it, so I'm trying to be good to myself and not push myself too hard. I want to be out there in the fall weather. I want to go on a walk, look for pretty trees, admire the Halloween decorations in the nearby neighborhoods. But not yet. Honestly, I've enjoyed having a few slow days. I may claim sinus trouble for a few more weeks, just to have an excuse to be slow about things!
On the subject of slowing down, a friend posted this on Facebook earlier this week:
"Speed damages our souls because living fast consumes every ounce of our energy. Speed has a deafening roar that drowns our the whispering voices of our souls and leaves Jesus as a diminishing speck in the rearview mirror." -Michael Yaconelli
It's like she knew I needed to read that! Thanks, A! I have thought about the effect that my rushing around has on God's presence in my life, and this quote just puts it perfectly. I am leaving Him behind. This is my favorite time of year, when the weather cools off and the trees change. I feel like some years I really soak up the season; I admire every changing tree, every falling leaf, and I see God's presence in nature. And then other years, I just get so wrapped up in myself that before I know it, fall has passed, the trees are bare, and I haven't praised God for letting me appreciate yet another brilliant autumn. Well, that's not going to happen this year. I am slowing down, I am looking at every tree, and I am looking for God's beauty during this, my favorite time of year. Those red trees on the side of the road may be diminishing specks in my rearview mirror, but God will not be!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Blessings!
I just wanted to take a minute and give thanks! I have felt incredibly blessed this week, and it has just been because of little things here and there. For example, the kindness of a stranger- I discovered yesterday that the guy at the Dunkn' Donuts drive-thru gave me extra punches on my card, which means free coffee on Monday! I know that's small, but it is nice to know that my efforts to be nice and friendly in the morning paid off. (I am so not a morning person. And this poor guy has to deal with me before I've even had a sip of coffee.)
I am just so thankful for my friends, my family, my job and colleagues... I love my life and I needed to take a moment to reflect on it and give thanks! God is so good!
I am just so thankful for my friends, my family, my job and colleagues... I love my life and I needed to take a moment to reflect on it and give thanks! God is so good!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Mid-week mania
I wrote this Wednesday night, but I haven’t had internet access to post it until now:
For the record, I love my job. I thank God every day that He has blessed me with an amazing school, a fabulous group of coworkers, and the cutest darn kids I’ve ever seen. There isn’t even a “but…” to this statement. I honestly love it. I don’t ever want it to sound like I’m complaining about work.
That being said, there are some days where I just go and go and go, and it wears me out. This is our first week back after fall break, and I was anticipating a pretty light week. I really should take a look at my plan book before I decide such things. Monday and Tuesday were fine; I’m housesitting, so there were a few extra responsibilities but nothing too bad. Then Wednesday hit…
Wednesdays are always my longest, busiest days, and I just really struggle with finding mid-week peace. Today I woke up at 5:45; I fed and watered the dogs and then rushed off to work for “early morning duty,” which I do every Wednesday. God bless my dear, dear friend who brought me a nice big cup of Starbucks. I can’t work the fancy coffeemaker over here, and I didn’t have time to grab coffee at a drive through. From there, I don’t think I sat down all day, except for sitting uncomfortably on the floor in my skirt as I led small groups. I know that’s normal for a teacher. (I’m not complaining, just explaining.) We have faculty meetings on Wednesdays, and this week was my turn to organize snacks for the meeting. I love Halloween, so our snacks absolutely had to have a Halloween theme. That meant that I spent my time between classes setting up tables, decorating, arranging fake spiders artistically across my orange tablecloths, baking chicken-cheese things, etc. Then I spent the beginning of our meeting rushing around, making sure trays were filled and everyone else’s snack contributions made it to the table. Then I sat through a very informative talk about ADHD where I pretty much solidified my suspicion that I do indeed have ADHD. (That really helps with the whole “trying to be peaceful” thing, trust me.) From there I sped to my parents’ house to drop off all the dishes I borrowed for my snacks (moms own SO many Halloween platters—it’s a scary mom thing), then I went out for a quick dinner with my mom, during which I ate fast and talked fast—the entire time—about my hectic day (I’m sure Mom loved that), and then I went to church choir practice. By that point, I had entirely drained my supply of attention and good behavior for the day (side note: I really think I’m allotted a certain amount of attention span each day. I used all mine up by about 3:00 today). I fidgeted, I whispered to my friends, I texted, I checked my watch a lot, I spaced out… occasionally I sang when I was supposed to. And now I’m home, vegging in front of the TV in my pajamas, and I still feel like I’m rushing. My mind just won’t stop.
My problem is that once I get going, I can’t slow down. Days like today, I’m just constantly thinking about the next thing. I rush through dinner so I can do what? Hurry up and go sit around at choir? And then I’m impatient during choir because I can’t wait to go sit around on the couch. Is this normal? Am I really living my life the way God wants me to when I’m not really living in the moment? I wish I could just focus on what I’m doing at the time, without being so anxious for what is coming next. And when the day is over, when it’s time to just slow down and enjoy a meal with family or time singing with friends or quiet time on my couch , I wish I could really s l o w d o w n.
Luckily there’s another Wednesday coming up, so I can try this whole slowing down thing again.
Inside People
I wrote this Tuesday night, but I haven’t had internet access to post it until now:
For the record, I’ve been a little angry at nature lately. It’s October, it’s supposed to be fall, my favorite season, but instead we’re experiencing record high temperatures. Why am I surprised that the weather in Memphis isn’t cooperating with me? When has Memphis weather ever been agreeable or reliable? So, given my generally unhappy feeling toward everything outside right now (come on, leaves. Change already!), it was only fitting that I find myself in some outdoor-type situations today.
And the outdoors worked their magic, of course. I was feeling a little guilty about the handful of trail mix I ate earlier (by “handful” I mean enough trail mix to fit in the palm of Lou Ferrigno’s hand) so before I allowed myself to commit to dinner plans I decided I had to go for a walk. I’m housesitting right now, and I love walking through new neighborhoods and tracking my route on my handy iPhone app. I get bored with the same old walking paths, so I decided to venture into a zero-lot-line neighborhood nearby which I had always driven past but never explored. Those little houses are so quaint, all neatly lined up in rows with their tiny yards and impeccable landscaping. But they tend to look so… suburban. Stepford-esque, even. So when I noticed a little asphalt path leading out of the neighborhood, I took it, of course, and found myself in a park! It was just a random little path around a semi-dried-up pond, but beyond that was a really pretty view of the Wolf River. I stopped walking and climbed up a little sandy hill so I could really get a good view of the meandering river. The area was so peaceful and secluded. The only other person nearby was a boy circling around and around the pond on his bike.
That little boy on the bike got me thinking too, just about the effect that nature has on kids. Studies have shown (or so I’ve heard) that nature is calming to children. Take those kids who act up in a classroom, put them out in nature… and they’re so well behaved. I think I just assumed that those mischievous students are the ones who are most likely to get outside and start rubbing sticks together to make fire, or torturing ants under a magnifying glass, but that’s not true. They really show an appreciation for the outdoors. I went on a field trip today to the Botanic Gardens, and it was really great to see all those kids outside. They all behaved wonderfully. They were engaged in our activities, they were exploring and discovering nature, and it’s just really cute to see kids get so excited about looking for leaves and talking about seed pods.
I think that kids in general, and really just all people, don’t spend as much time outside as they used to. I know I sound like an old lady when I say this, but I remember playing outside all the time. We rode our bikes everywhere, we invented games, we swam, we climbed the magnolia tree… video games (and by that I mean my dad’s old Atari games) were a rare thing. They weren’t even really a luxury. Just something we would pull out from time to time once it got too dark to play outside. And just for the record, I’m 26, so those days weren’t too long ago. So now I’m an “indoor girl,” as someone called me. I’m not a huge lover of the outdoors. I don’t camp, for example. That doesn’t mean I don’t like to be outside; I’m just allergic to it all. And I’m terrified of spiders. But really, haven’t we all become indoor people? I don’t know any parents who let their kids run around outside unsupervised. And I really don’t know more than a handful of people who spend substantial amounts of time outside. And, speaking as an indoor person, that’s really unfortunate. I know I’m in the wrong here too, but where is there a better place to find peace than out there among all of God’s creation? I remember when I was younger, middle school or high school, I would ride my bike all the time. Whenever I got really mad or frustrated about something, I could hop on my bike and as I picked up speed I could just feel the frustration melting away. By the time I got to my destination, assuming I even had one, I couldn’t even remember why I was mad in the first place. My point here isn’t that I think I should ride my bike more. My frustration toward bikers is a topic for another day. I’m just saying that there’s something peaceful about being outside, being at one with the majesty of God’s creation (even if you are in the middle of suburbia), and that maybe I should remember that the next time I need to center myself.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Giving...
It's the time of year at church again where we make our annual giving pledges. I've been thinking a lot lately about the whole idea of giving, and the idea of tithing 10 percent, and since yesterday's sermon, I've been thinking about the concept of giving with a thankful heart and not out of obligation. Actually, I think that came from "a time for children" and not the sermon, but at least I was paying attention to something.
I don't really have any well-formed thoughts on the subject yet. It's just something that's currently weighing on my heart and that I'm praying about. I've always considered tithing something that Christians are sort of obligated to do. And honestly, I never feel particularly thankful or joyful as I put my money in the offering plate. But the idea of giving to the church, more specifically, giving ten percent, came from the early practice of giving the first ten percent of one's harvest as an offering to God. The first ten percent-- that's what gets me. How can I give the first ten percent and know that I have enough left over for myself? A selfish thought, yes, but I'm not the only person who thinks this. Isn't it easier to see what's left over at the end and then give what I can? Does that defeat the purpose of giving? It's still giving, after all.
I think this is where faith comes in, and this is where it gets hard for me. I've heard people say they give ten percent of their paycheck as soon as they're paid, and then they trust that it will work out in the end. And honestly, the thought of doing that is really stressing me out. How can I trust that the numbers will just work out in the end? If I do the math on paper and it's not adding up, is there some sort of "magic math" that happens as soon as my money hits the collection plate? I know I'm being called to give, and to do so with a joyful heart. And this is where my faith is being tested. This is where I need to keep thinking, and praying and reading so that I can be at peace about my giving. I'm sure I'll be writing about this for a while!
I don't really have any well-formed thoughts on the subject yet. It's just something that's currently weighing on my heart and that I'm praying about. I've always considered tithing something that Christians are sort of obligated to do. And honestly, I never feel particularly thankful or joyful as I put my money in the offering plate. But the idea of giving to the church, more specifically, giving ten percent, came from the early practice of giving the first ten percent of one's harvest as an offering to God. The first ten percent-- that's what gets me. How can I give the first ten percent and know that I have enough left over for myself? A selfish thought, yes, but I'm not the only person who thinks this. Isn't it easier to see what's left over at the end and then give what I can? Does that defeat the purpose of giving? It's still giving, after all.
I think this is where faith comes in, and this is where it gets hard for me. I've heard people say they give ten percent of their paycheck as soon as they're paid, and then they trust that it will work out in the end. And honestly, the thought of doing that is really stressing me out. How can I trust that the numbers will just work out in the end? If I do the math on paper and it's not adding up, is there some sort of "magic math" that happens as soon as my money hits the collection plate? I know I'm being called to give, and to do so with a joyful heart. And this is where my faith is being tested. This is where I need to keep thinking, and praying and reading so that I can be at peace about my giving. I'm sure I'll be writing about this for a while!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Finding peace on Facebook
The past few days, I've still been thinking about negativity-- more specifically, how to handle negative comments. One thing about me that I don't really love is my quick temper. It really doesn't take much to make me mad (just ask my dad), and I always have to have the last word. Why can't I just let things go?
There's a scene in You've Got Mail, which I watch every time it's on TV, where Meg Ryan's character laments the fact that she can't ever think of the perfect comeback until it's too late. I think this was also a storyline on Seinfeld (pretty sure this is where George came up with, "The jerk store called. They're running out of you!") Anyway, the one time that she manages to come up with an appropriate zinger at just the right time, she feels horrible about it. This never happens to me. I don't have trouble thinking of something to say; I have trouble holding it in. And, of course, when it does slip out, I feel bad about it (sometimes). The combination of my quick temper and my sarcasm, which really is out of control, can get me in trouble. Luckily I can usually explain quickly that I am sarcastic; or that I wasn't trying to be sarcastic but it sounded like I was; or I can do some fast backtalking to get myself out of a foot-in-mouth situation.
The one place where I can't get away with any of that is here on my computer. Electronic communication doesn't allow for sarcasm, or "takebacks." Once it's out there, it's out there. It can be saved, printed, forwarded... it's never forgotten. I think this is a lesson some people could stand to learn, but my purpose here isn't to point fingers at others. I'm thinking about how I respond to unwelcome comments on the internet. In actual face-to-face conversation, I sometimes can't stop myself from getting the last word. That sarcastic word-vomit just comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. But online, on Facebook, to be more specific, I can think about what I say before I type it. And then I can think about what I've typed before I send it. So there's really no excuse for word-vomit comments. Someone recently typed something that I found offensive. It's not the first time this has happened, and I've let it go in the past. I like to think I was doing it to be the better person, but really it was because I couldn't decide which snarky comment I wanted to type. While the end result was good-- I didn't take this person's bait-- I didn't arrive at it in quite the manner that I should have. This time, I want to do the right thing. I don't want to mull over all the possible responses I could make. I don't want to run to my friends and complain. I just want to be at peace with the fact that this person says things that offend me, and I know that responding won't help the situation, so really the best thing to do is just to let it pass. Is that so hard?
I'm looking at Bible verses about dealing with anger right now, and Proverbs is just full of gems: "A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." "An angry man stirs up dissension, and a hot-tempered one commits many sins." Okay, okay, I get it. This is that whole turn-the-other-cheek, pray-for-those-who-persecute-you thing. I know that if I don't say something, these comments will continue. But I'm being called to hold my tongue, to think before I type. So I'm praying that I will get to a point where these comments roll off my back. I'm not there yet, clearly, but hopefully I will be someday.
There's a scene in You've Got Mail, which I watch every time it's on TV, where Meg Ryan's character laments the fact that she can't ever think of the perfect comeback until it's too late. I think this was also a storyline on Seinfeld (pretty sure this is where George came up with, "The jerk store called. They're running out of you!") Anyway, the one time that she manages to come up with an appropriate zinger at just the right time, she feels horrible about it. This never happens to me. I don't have trouble thinking of something to say; I have trouble holding it in. And, of course, when it does slip out, I feel bad about it (sometimes). The combination of my quick temper and my sarcasm, which really is out of control, can get me in trouble. Luckily I can usually explain quickly that I am sarcastic; or that I wasn't trying to be sarcastic but it sounded like I was; or I can do some fast backtalking to get myself out of a foot-in-mouth situation.
The one place where I can't get away with any of that is here on my computer. Electronic communication doesn't allow for sarcasm, or "takebacks." Once it's out there, it's out there. It can be saved, printed, forwarded... it's never forgotten. I think this is a lesson some people could stand to learn, but my purpose here isn't to point fingers at others. I'm thinking about how I respond to unwelcome comments on the internet. In actual face-to-face conversation, I sometimes can't stop myself from getting the last word. That sarcastic word-vomit just comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. But online, on Facebook, to be more specific, I can think about what I say before I type it. And then I can think about what I've typed before I send it. So there's really no excuse for word-vomit comments. Someone recently typed something that I found offensive. It's not the first time this has happened, and I've let it go in the past. I like to think I was doing it to be the better person, but really it was because I couldn't decide which snarky comment I wanted to type. While the end result was good-- I didn't take this person's bait-- I didn't arrive at it in quite the manner that I should have. This time, I want to do the right thing. I don't want to mull over all the possible responses I could make. I don't want to run to my friends and complain. I just want to be at peace with the fact that this person says things that offend me, and I know that responding won't help the situation, so really the best thing to do is just to let it pass. Is that so hard?
I'm looking at Bible verses about dealing with anger right now, and Proverbs is just full of gems: "A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." "An angry man stirs up dissension, and a hot-tempered one commits many sins." Okay, okay, I get it. This is that whole turn-the-other-cheek, pray-for-those-who-persecute-you thing. I know that if I don't say something, these comments will continue. But I'm being called to hold my tongue, to think before I type. So I'm praying that I will get to a point where these comments roll off my back. I'm not there yet, clearly, but hopefully I will be someday.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Peace, Pigskin, and Pessimism
This weekend I took my new peaceful self on the road, and I realized this would be a good chance for me to see how calm I can be while dealing with the inevitable hassles of traveling. Of course, when I'm dealing with a travel-related issue, I never remember in that moment to stay calm and find peace. It's always after, when I'm reliving the situation, that I realize how un-peaceful I really was. The weekend was just chock full of opportunities to lose my peaceful focus: an 8-hour roadtrip with my family; driving in a caravan with two other cars; dealing with rainy weather; and watching football. The whole family/football thing was no big deal. My family and I travel really well together, and I am just generally very apathetic about football (the same cannot be said about basketball, however). We went to the Indiana/Michigan game, which was a bit of a family rivalry since dad is a Michigan fan and Brother went to Indiana. The other people in our caravan were some of dad's Michigan buddies. There were, however, three situations in which I felt my sense of calm was being tested.
First, we had to deal with some rainy weather. Ugh, just typing that made me feel whiny. The thing is, a 30% chance of rain in Memphis means it's not going to rain. We learned that a 30% chance of rain in Bloomington, Indiana, means not only is it going to rain, but the rain is going to just settle right over the parking lot where you are trying to fire up your fancy tailgate grill. The whole time the rain was falling, I was fretting. I worried that my jacket wasn't waterproof. I worried that my shoes weren't waterproof. I worried that I didn't have on enough layers to combat the icy temperatures. I even (so shameful) worried about my hair. The rain did finally end; we grilled up an amazing lunch, and the weather during the game was absolutely perfect, albeit a little chilly. I regret the amount of time I spent worrying about the weather. I wish I had just given myself a weather pep talk (I do this a lot... it goes something like "It's raining, and it's going to be raining for a while. You will get wet. Deal with it and move on." It's how I made it through this summer's record high temps. Yes, I'm a nerd) and allowed myself to enjoy the day despite the showers.
Of course, I also think my bad attitude toward the rain was partly due to my exposure to Peace Roadblock #2, who I will just call Negative Nancy. One of the couples in our caravan was someone my dad met while watching Michigan football. No one we were with knew them very well, but when we found out they had tickets to the game they were invited to caravan and tailgate with us. The husband was very nice. The wife was very... well, just negative. She hated everything we did. She complained that the drive took eight hours instead of seven, and she argued this point as if she thought she could magically erase an hour from the drive. She was too tired to join us for dinner. And on Saturday, the first thing out of her mouth at the rainy tailgate was "I hate this place!" She made friends with some people who had a tent, stood in the corner of their tent all day, and didn't open her mouth except to complain about the rain, the cold, her hair (yes, this is sounding familiar. I am ashamed of myself. But at least I just spent the day worrying to myself instead of complaining to others... right? Right?) Her negativity became a bit of a joke to Brother and me. We started anticipating what she would complain about next. At the end of the game, which her team won, and which she almost missed because she wanted to sit in the car by herself instead of sit out in the cold, she came up to us and blurted out, "This was one game I was hoping wouldn't go into overtime! I don't want to sit out here any longer than I already have!" Really??? That was the best game I've watched in a while, and that's all you can say? Okay, sorry, I can feel myself losing my cool as I type.
I think what I learned from that was how much I let others' opinions affect mine. Maybe I would have been okay with the rain if she hadn't complained about it so much. Or maybe I'm just unfairly blaming her for my bad attitude. I think maybe it's a little bit of both. I think I could have snapped out of my rain-induced funk and truly enjoyed our soggy tailgate if she hadn't been with us. Negative people are draining. You can try disagreeing with them, you can try being positive when they're being Debbie Downers, but in the end is it really worth the effort to keep reasoning with them? They'll wear you out or they'll pull you down with them. Either way, you end up negative too.
How often have I been that negative person? Have I ever been the Debbie Downer who ruined someone else's weekend? Have I complained so much about something that it became exhausting for others to be around me? I feel like that's not very peaceful of me. Unloading my problems on unsuspecting bystanders... that's not who I want to be. And I don't know what the answer is here. Do I pray for a joyful heart, for the ability to stay positive in situations that would normally get me down? Do I pray for the ability to rejoice during times of trial (knowing that the testing of my faith produces patience, according to James 1:2-4)? Maybe I'll try that and see where it gets me.
First, we had to deal with some rainy weather. Ugh, just typing that made me feel whiny. The thing is, a 30% chance of rain in Memphis means it's not going to rain. We learned that a 30% chance of rain in Bloomington, Indiana, means not only is it going to rain, but the rain is going to just settle right over the parking lot where you are trying to fire up your fancy tailgate grill. The whole time the rain was falling, I was fretting. I worried that my jacket wasn't waterproof. I worried that my shoes weren't waterproof. I worried that I didn't have on enough layers to combat the icy temperatures. I even (so shameful) worried about my hair. The rain did finally end; we grilled up an amazing lunch, and the weather during the game was absolutely perfect, albeit a little chilly. I regret the amount of time I spent worrying about the weather. I wish I had just given myself a weather pep talk (I do this a lot... it goes something like "It's raining, and it's going to be raining for a while. You will get wet. Deal with it and move on." It's how I made it through this summer's record high temps. Yes, I'm a nerd) and allowed myself to enjoy the day despite the showers.
Of course, I also think my bad attitude toward the rain was partly due to my exposure to Peace Roadblock #2, who I will just call Negative Nancy. One of the couples in our caravan was someone my dad met while watching Michigan football. No one we were with knew them very well, but when we found out they had tickets to the game they were invited to caravan and tailgate with us. The husband was very nice. The wife was very... well, just negative. She hated everything we did. She complained that the drive took eight hours instead of seven, and she argued this point as if she thought she could magically erase an hour from the drive. She was too tired to join us for dinner. And on Saturday, the first thing out of her mouth at the rainy tailgate was "I hate this place!" She made friends with some people who had a tent, stood in the corner of their tent all day, and didn't open her mouth except to complain about the rain, the cold, her hair (yes, this is sounding familiar. I am ashamed of myself. But at least I just spent the day worrying to myself instead of complaining to others... right? Right?) Her negativity became a bit of a joke to Brother and me. We started anticipating what she would complain about next. At the end of the game, which her team won, and which she almost missed because she wanted to sit in the car by herself instead of sit out in the cold, she came up to us and blurted out, "This was one game I was hoping wouldn't go into overtime! I don't want to sit out here any longer than I already have!" Really??? That was the best game I've watched in a while, and that's all you can say? Okay, sorry, I can feel myself losing my cool as I type.
I think what I learned from that was how much I let others' opinions affect mine. Maybe I would have been okay with the rain if she hadn't complained about it so much. Or maybe I'm just unfairly blaming her for my bad attitude. I think maybe it's a little bit of both. I think I could have snapped out of my rain-induced funk and truly enjoyed our soggy tailgate if she hadn't been with us. Negative people are draining. You can try disagreeing with them, you can try being positive when they're being Debbie Downers, but in the end is it really worth the effort to keep reasoning with them? They'll wear you out or they'll pull you down with them. Either way, you end up negative too.
How often have I been that negative person? Have I ever been the Debbie Downer who ruined someone else's weekend? Have I complained so much about something that it became exhausting for others to be around me? I feel like that's not very peaceful of me. Unloading my problems on unsuspecting bystanders... that's not who I want to be. And I don't know what the answer is here. Do I pray for a joyful heart, for the ability to stay positive in situations that would normally get me down? Do I pray for the ability to rejoice during times of trial (knowing that the testing of my faith produces patience, according to James 1:2-4)? Maybe I'll try that and see where it gets me.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Metaphor
I had a rare flash of insight the other night when I was at choir practice. Church choirs are made up of a mix of people who can sing really well and people who aren’t the best singers but still want to participate and glorify God through music. I’ve noticed (I’m sure this is true for all choirs) that sometimes the better singers try to sing extra-loud as a way of “helping” the singers who, well, aren’t as good. I have caught myself singing too loudly in choir on many occasions, but it’s not because I think I’m better and that the other singers need my help. When I was in college and had the privilege of singing with a group of incredible musicians, I sang loudly. I know those singers and music majors didn’t need my “help.” I just sometimes get caught up in listening to myself and I forget that I’m supposed to be blending with the rest of my section. But when I do remember this, when I match my volume to the singers around me and really focus on how the different voices combine, it’s beautiful. I love singing dissonant chords. I love being the note in the chord that eventually resolves. I love hearing how the altos voices blend with the tenors, while the basses' voices thrum on those low notes that hold the whole chord together.
My flash of insight came when I compared my choir self to my out-in-the-world self. I get caught up in my own life, worried about my own issues, focusing only on myself. And how am I supposed to blend with my environment, with the people in my life, if I’m only listening to myself sing? I think that part of being peaceful is being at peace with my surroundings and learning to live peacefully with others. This means shifting my focus from just myself to how I blend with the people around me. And it makes a difference! Talking to others, even exchanging a few words with the woman who is in front of me in the checkout line, or saying hello to my neighbors reminds me that I’m part of a community. I like being an active participant in the world, and I am called to interact with those around me in a peaceful manner, with a joyful heart, and with a feeling of love and tolerance toward total strangers. All of our voices and lives together, as a community, are more beautiful and more pleasing to God than anything I could do, any noise I could make, on my own. God, grant me the ability to listen to the other voices in the choir too, and to make sure that my voice blends with the others to create a beautiful noise.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
My Mary-to-Martha ratio
As I was getting ready for work this morning, the story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10: 38-42) found its way into my thoughts. I know there's a whole book about the concept of having a "Mary" heart, and I'm feeling like it may be something I need to read. But I started thinking about the story and how it relates to my quest for peace. Martha was the sister who busied herself with actually physically serving the Lord when he stepped into her home. She cleaned and cooked and prepared the house for him, and she complained when Mary did not help her. Am I a Martha? Certainly not in the sense that I'm constantly focused on serving the Lord. I lose that focus a lot. But what about in the sense that I can't slow down long enough to notice or care that I am in the presence of the Lord? I have days where I almost don't know what to do with myself if I have an hour of free time. Like today, for example. I will work until 4:30, and then I have to be somewhere at 9:30. That's five whole unplanned hours! How do I handle this? My first thought is to cram in a bunch of errands that I don't really need to run. But why can't I just curl up in the hammock with the book I just started reading, or maybe take my dogs to the park and enjoy the glorious fall weather that He has given us?
So I think there is a connection with being a Mary and being peaceful. When Jesus entered Mary and Martha's house, Mary sat at his feet and listened to what he had to say. And Jesus even said, "Mary has chosen what is better." So sitting and listening for the voice of the Lord is better than constantly being in motion, constantly being busy--that makes sense. But what if you're choosing between doing something to serve Him or sitting and listening for Him? I'm not saying that I face this choice a lot; as I said, I lose focus all the time and forget that I do what I do in order to glorify Him. I think that what I need to take away from this story is that there's nothing wrong with just stopping everything and being still. Sitting at His feet, or outside surrounded by His creation. I don't need to feel guilty or like I'm wasting time by taking time out of my busy life to listen for the voice of the Lord.
I would say I'm 90% Martha (the busy-with-my-own-life Martha, not the serving-the-Lord Martha) and 10% Mary. And that's being generous.
So I think there is a connection with being a Mary and being peaceful. When Jesus entered Mary and Martha's house, Mary sat at his feet and listened to what he had to say. And Jesus even said, "Mary has chosen what is better." So sitting and listening for the voice of the Lord is better than constantly being in motion, constantly being busy--that makes sense. But what if you're choosing between doing something to serve Him or sitting and listening for Him? I'm not saying that I face this choice a lot; as I said, I lose focus all the time and forget that I do what I do in order to glorify Him. I think that what I need to take away from this story is that there's nothing wrong with just stopping everything and being still. Sitting at His feet, or outside surrounded by His creation. I don't need to feel guilty or like I'm wasting time by taking time out of my busy life to listen for the voice of the Lord.
I would say I'm 90% Martha (the busy-with-my-own-life Martha, not the serving-the-Lord Martha) and 10% Mary. And that's being generous.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Time is (not) on my side.
I have identified a situation in which I am most certainly not peaceful: driving. And this may actually tie in with my time management issues, at least part of the time anyway. Sometimes there are just bad drivers on the road, but that is a post for another day. Yet other times, as was the case yesterday afternoon, I just don't manage my travel time well and I find myself stressing out behind the wheel. Yesterday I had an appointment at 4:15. I knew I would have to leave work by 3:30 in order to drive all the way across town and make it to my appointment on time. I hate being late. I think it is so disrespectful to be late for an appointment. It basically says "my job and my time are much more important than yours." (Again, another post for another day. How easily I digress.) So naturally, I didn't walk out the door until 3:45. I stressed and fretted as I wove my way across town, inevitably getting stopped at every red light. Literally, every light turned red as I approached it. I was six minutes late to my appointment, and I was so frustrated with myself (and traffic) and so not calm.
This is also pretty much how my morning commute goes. If I know I need to walk out the door at 7:30, why do I stay in bed until 6:30? Why do I hit the snooze button for 45 minutes? Maybe I just need a simple math lesson: If I get up at 6:30 and it takes me one hour and twelve minutes to get ready, and it takes me 15 minutes (on a good day) to drive to work, what time will I arrive? Or, how late will I be? I mean, really. I have no one to blame but myself. This inability to leave my home on time makes for a very hectic driving situation. I'm not an aggressive driver. I don't cut people off or honk or yell obscenities. I just arrive at work feeling very frazzled, and that's not a good way to start a peace-filled day, now, is it? And this problem could be solved so easily: get yourself out of bed, you lazy bum!
This is also pretty much how my morning commute goes. If I know I need to walk out the door at 7:30, why do I stay in bed until 6:30? Why do I hit the snooze button for 45 minutes? Maybe I just need a simple math lesson: If I get up at 6:30 and it takes me one hour and twelve minutes to get ready, and it takes me 15 minutes (on a good day) to drive to work, what time will I arrive? Or, how late will I be? I mean, really. I have no one to blame but myself. This inability to leave my home on time makes for a very hectic driving situation. I'm not an aggressive driver. I don't cut people off or honk or yell obscenities. I just arrive at work feeling very frazzled, and that's not a good way to start a peace-filled day, now, is it? And this problem could be solved so easily: get yourself out of bed, you lazy bum!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Using my inside voice
I am a loud person. I am that person whose friends shush her in public places (which, by the way, is hurtful. If you love me, you love my loudness). I love to have the last word in an argument. Oh, and I love to argue. I sing whenever I can. In the shower, while drying my hair, in the car, in my office, in the car, at church, on the treadmill, and in the car. I'm not familiar with the term "yes or no answer." If you ask me a question, I will answer you using as many words as possible.
Considering how loud I am, it's probably a good thing I became a teacher. I get to hear myself talk a lot. I have the ability to talk over a room full of chatty little people. In fact, I can yell over a whole playground full of chatty, shouty little people.
I love being loud. God made me this way, and I have been known to use that loud talking and singing to praise Him, and I am happy with who I am. But along with being loud comes being extroverted. I want to be around others, to the point that I quite often try to do too much. I am so blessed to have an amazing group of friends, the kind that no matter what we do together, I know we will have fun.
I have been thinking lately about my relationship with God, and I was thinking that I am in a good place right now. But then I heard a friend give a talk about silence, and listening for the still, small voice of God, and I realized that I don't do that. Sure, I praise God for the big things, and the things that affect my life. I boldly petition for what I want from Him, while recognizing that His plan for my life is the one that should come to fruition. But when do I ever just sit, and think, and most importantly listen? So when I got home that night, I tried it. I turned off the TV, put my phone away, and just sat. It was nice. The "silence session" morphed quickly into me burying my nose in a book until late into the night, but even that was a nice change for me. I live alone, and I have gotten to the point where I feel comfortable with the TV droning on in the background as I read. This weekend I went on a mission trip with some kids from my church, and before bed I took about 20 minutes and just sat. I stared at the ceiling, I thought about things, I might have prayed a little. I can't say that I had any big epiphanies, but honestly I loved just taking time to sit in silence. I felt calm afterward, and at peace.
So, probably during that silent time, I came to the conclusion that I desire more peace in my life. I want to take the time to notice my surroundings, to notice God's presence and to think before speaking and acting. I believe that when you ask God for something, like patience (or peace), he responds by putting you in situations where your patience is tested. When I came to that realization, I decided I was too impatient to pray for patience (ha). So before I tackle that one again, I am praying for peace. A sense of calm. A level head. And I welcome those situations where He will come in and test my sense of peace. I have learned this week to take a few seconds and think before answering a student's question. That makes me feel calmer, especially when the question is wildly off-the-wall. I have learned to pray over small issues throughout my day. That centers me and shifts my focus from myself to God.
I would say that my quest for peace is off to a good, calm start. Here's praying that that continues!
Considering how loud I am, it's probably a good thing I became a teacher. I get to hear myself talk a lot. I have the ability to talk over a room full of chatty little people. In fact, I can yell over a whole playground full of chatty, shouty little people.
I love being loud. God made me this way, and I have been known to use that loud talking and singing to praise Him, and I am happy with who I am. But along with being loud comes being extroverted. I want to be around others, to the point that I quite often try to do too much. I am so blessed to have an amazing group of friends, the kind that no matter what we do together, I know we will have fun.
I have been thinking lately about my relationship with God, and I was thinking that I am in a good place right now. But then I heard a friend give a talk about silence, and listening for the still, small voice of God, and I realized that I don't do that. Sure, I praise God for the big things, and the things that affect my life. I boldly petition for what I want from Him, while recognizing that His plan for my life is the one that should come to fruition. But when do I ever just sit, and think, and most importantly listen? So when I got home that night, I tried it. I turned off the TV, put my phone away, and just sat. It was nice. The "silence session" morphed quickly into me burying my nose in a book until late into the night, but even that was a nice change for me. I live alone, and I have gotten to the point where I feel comfortable with the TV droning on in the background as I read. This weekend I went on a mission trip with some kids from my church, and before bed I took about 20 minutes and just sat. I stared at the ceiling, I thought about things, I might have prayed a little. I can't say that I had any big epiphanies, but honestly I loved just taking time to sit in silence. I felt calm afterward, and at peace.
So, probably during that silent time, I came to the conclusion that I desire more peace in my life. I want to take the time to notice my surroundings, to notice God's presence and to think before speaking and acting. I believe that when you ask God for something, like patience (or peace), he responds by putting you in situations where your patience is tested. When I came to that realization, I decided I was too impatient to pray for patience (ha). So before I tackle that one again, I am praying for peace. A sense of calm. A level head. And I welcome those situations where He will come in and test my sense of peace. I have learned this week to take a few seconds and think before answering a student's question. That makes me feel calmer, especially when the question is wildly off-the-wall. I have learned to pray over small issues throughout my day. That centers me and shifts my focus from myself to God.
I would say that my quest for peace is off to a good, calm start. Here's praying that that continues!
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