The Winding Path Up and Out

For some reason, my brain organizes life in sections of time... this many weeks until this event, or this many months since that event.  Almost like milestones or something.  Maybe that is messed up, I don't know. 
Wednesday marks two months since I boarded an airplane in London, returning back to the USA after almost four wonderful months spent in the north of England.  Two months!  Where has the time gone?! 
Since coming back home, I have had a massive amount of time to think and reflect.  It has been a hard road filled with some deep depression and true soul searching.  I'm ever so thankful for the continual faithfulness and patience of the Lord.  I would love to tell you that I bounced back from living a somewhat fairytale life, but that wouldn't be true.  It has been a struggle.  Some days have felt as though I am army crawling up a steep hill, inch by painful inch.  Some days I am up and walking.  It has been a weary journey. 
A couple years ago, I would have guiltily hidden my struggles.  I had this notion that if I appeared weak no one would want to be around be and they would think less of me.  It was only through the advice of trusted friends and family and working of the Lord in my heart, that I realized there was no shame in depression.  That in itself was freeing.  It kinda shoves you to the ground in the realization that there is no way you can do life successfully without God.
So when I once again found myself in a valley, I was not ashamed or fearful.  It was more like an 'oh darn' moment.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Lord would bring me through it, and that there was a reason that I was in this place.  Still, it has been a tough couple months. 
In England, I had a brand new life.  Every day was essentially a new adventure, filled with new people, scenery, experiences, and lessons.  For my personality, that is like pure happiness.  I love new things and might secretly or not so secretly enjoy the unknown.  That is who I am!  The adventure of life holds so much exciting mystery and I love discovering it. 
I had a new church, with a new community and group of friends.  Starting over with that part of life was challenging, but rewarding and filled with inspiring and phenomenal people.  There was a new city, filled with culture, history, streets, and people that I had absolutely no idea about.  And of course, a school. Up until this point, I had never taught full-time... just part-time.  Before England, I wondered if I was truly cut out to teach full-time.  In about a week I realized, that yes, I was cut out for it.  In fact, this was part of my main calling in life. 
I remember the first week I started teaching.  So many nerves!  I was a bit unsure, and confidence wasn't particularly present.  Would I be able to communicate clearly to my students?  Would they think I was dumb?  Would they like music?  Would they learn what they were supposed to?
By the end of the week though, my confidence had grown in leaps and bounds, and I realized that it didn't matter so much what the students thought of me.  What really mattered was that they learned, and somehow found joy in learning.
Most importantly though I was hit in the face by one thing.  These students were human beings.  Now, that sounds a bit silly, but I realized how important consciously recognizing their humanity was.  It opened my eyes to see my students as more than just warm bodies in desks and more than just a way to realize music.  These people had dreams and talents, fears and humor, curiosity, hurt, intelligence, and joy.  It actually overwhelmed me.  Teaching now went beyond the academic subject of music.  It was about life and connecting learning to the heart and mind of each student.  Gosh!  I could teach the 'perfect' lesson, hitting every major point and including advanced teaching technique, but unless it connected with my students, it was an absolutely pointless endeavor. 
I could go on and on about this.  For hours in fact.  Suffice to say, that as I began to incorporate this into my teaching, the responses of my students stunned me.  Sure, some of my lessons sucked.  There is no way around it.  I majorly failed at times.  But my students graciously carried on.  Their patience and support was humbling.  I was astounded by their intelligence, and moved by their love.  To the very end they gave me countless opportunities to confidently experiment in my teaching.  When something went well, they made sure I knew it 100%. 
I realized that my favorite teachers were the ones that connected to me, cared about me, and challenged me.  They expected excellence from me.  An excellence that I didn't always think I was capable of, yet their unwavering faith in me encouraged and pushed me to achieve exactly what I thought was impossible.  I tried to teach that way.  Maybe sometimes I praised too much.  Maybe sometimes we had too much 'fun' in class and not enough 'focus'.  Good gracious, there were many things I wouldn't do the same.  But I do know this... I would always repeat the encouraging, challenging, and connecting times with my students.
The love I felt upon leaving, and have continued to feel since then has broken me time and again.  In a good way though.  The notes received and the messages still being sent never fail to bring me to tears.  How I was blessed to student teach at a school with such beautiful people, I will never understand.  But I am grateful.  Eternally grateful that the Lord placed me in a place where I was able to learn, mature, laugh and cry.  The last two months have shown me that and given me time to reflect with great awe upon the many blessings that the four months in England held.  I have finally begun to move forward.  Moving forward does not mean you forget the past.  Instead, it means going forward in life, having been changed by the past and keeping those memories alive. 
As overly dramatic as it sounds, my students changed my life.  The imprint they have left on my heart and teaching is incredible.  Without them, I would not be who I am today.  I miss them so much it hurts.  The fact that I may never see them again drives me crazy.  But I'm grateful.  It came to me that in my efforts to believe in them, support them, challenge and inspire them, it actually often had the reverse effect in that they ended up doing that to me.  I left them and live on today being inspired because of them.  It boggles my mind.  These kids continue to believe in me, celebrating my successes, hoping for an exciting future, lovingly encouraging me to keep on.  That is love.  Funny how life works. 
This depression fog is lifting.  God is bringing peace despite the unknown future.  And my kids... oh these wonderful people... they are making sure that I know that they believe in me.  So, I'm up and walking again on this road called life.  Purpose and joy are returning.  And I have a smile, that comes from a changed and renewed heart.  Come at me life!

Igloos, snow, and such

After almost two weeks of snow, I finally decided on Friday to go out and play in it. Its sad that it took so long to finally get out there, but when you have to work a lot in the snow, playing doesn't seem all that fun. LOL

It was late afternoon by the time my sister and I made our way out into the deep white fluff. We promptly decided to make a "fort", making me remember the days where forts, lions, and pretend food were all the rage.

There was a huge drift/pile of snow from dad's shoveling job that was in the front yard and we both decided that would be the perfect place to create a snow home.

And so the digging commenced. This digging was done by the best shovels known to man: hands (but gloved hands). Melissa and I took turns digging at the opening to our "home". My aunt quickly informed us that we looked like dogs digging a hole in the ground. I suppose we did, especially as we got deeper and all you could see was the back of our legs and our feet sticking up in the air. :D

After a while a nice tunnel began to take shape and we excitedly ran to ask dad if we could sleep in our igloo ( much better term for a snow house). The answer came back quickly "NO". The reason: it might collapse on top of us.

Now in my mind this did not seem quite right, after all I had taken a geology class and we had learned what to do for an avalanche and two of three feet of snow collapsing over our heads was hardly an avalanche (there is my rather stupid logic).

We finally decided that the igloo was finished when both Melissa and I could fit inside it and turn around. You know, it was quite a marvelous feeling... being in something you made ,being warm, and the novelty of the snow and all.

Melissa and I laid in our igloo talking for about 20 minutes, enjoying the dark and the white snow surrounding us while wondering how we were going to be able to convince dad to let us sleep in it.

Finally we wandered out, wet, hungry and hopeful... but alas, the answer was still no.

So we proceeded to go to sleep that night in our real home... wistfully dreaming of a night that could have been spent inside a tunneled out pile of snow.

Sadness... we awoke the next morning to find that our igloo had fallen in, right where our opening was (due to rain). Dad was right in the end, although I still think it would have been funny to be in there when the opening fell in.

Freddy

Yes, you see, I feel it necessary to tell you about this new "one" that has entered my life. He is no ordinary creature, in fact you couldn't even call him a creature he is that special. Well, you have probably already looked at the picture and are wondering when I lost my mind, so I had better explain. Freddy, as he was so aptly named, is a penguin (in case you didn't know), and a penguin from the movie "Madagascar". He even has a thing on his back so he can roll and slide around like real penguins do. Freddy came to me because his previous owner deserted him. I know its sad isn't it... desertion? It was the worst kind of abandonment, but at least the previous owner had the decency to name him.

I have decided that Freddy is going to be my school companion. Whenever I go to school he shall go with me, traveling in the top of my backpack where an Ipod (that I don't have) would go. If you want to see Freddy (which I know you all are dying to do) you must treat him with the utmost gentleness and care, for if you hurt him, well... just DON'T.

Already I have been laughed at for associating with such a friend as this, but I shall not be deterred or influenced in any way. Freddy is such a nice little thing, riding along in such a compliant manner and smiling and waving to any passerby who might get the privilege of viewing him. Currently he is on break, or should I call it hibernation, until winter quarter starts. I am quite excited to take him on all sorts of adventures. He shall go to psychology class and get psyched out, to Spanish class and become bilingual, to chemistry and learn the wonders of science, to math class and learn how to count, and listen to all my conversations at school (and yours too, so beware!). What a well-rounded and educated penguin he shall be in a matter of a few years! I am still contemplating taking him to graduation. I will have to see if he behaves himself, and IF he doesn't get himself lost then he has a marvelous chance at walking and receiving a diploma with me.

Why I write the way I do

Drama, ah it makes life so interesting! So here is just a quick explanation on my drama. Yes, I am very dramatic in life. Yes, it is normal for me and when I relay my stories they are as honest as I can make them. If they seem over the top, well... thats how I lived it. I apologize if they seem random, wacky, odd, and completely unbelievable. :D
It is really awesome to be able to make people laugh and I love that! Laughing is such good medicine. Anyways, I am not exaggerating or telling tall tales! What happens, happens!
Merry Christmas to all and I pray that those of you in school will live through finals week!

Giving of myself/ Me being a wimp

At the beginning of the quarter my biology teacher told us that if we gave blood we would get 10 points of extra credit. My first and very logical thought was “NO WAY, I am NOT doing that”. She also said that we could get friends to do it, but we had to have proof for it. So I proceeded to ask some of my friends and the result was a very quick “no” and a look that said “Are you out of your mind?”. I didn’t blame them. Who, in their right mind would cause themselves excruciating pain (that is what I thought).
As the quarter wore on, I began thinking more and more about the extra credit. I decided that I would just wait, in hopes that I wouldn’t need the extra credit. This past week, I began to realize that this extra credit could determine a letter grade. A plan began formulating in mind. I would go to the clinic and ask somebody who was giving blood if I could have their slip of paper. They would be my “friend”. Marvelous plan don’t you think? I was planning on introducing myself and asking their name so that they would really be my friend.
Thursday rolled around and I was quickly running out of time. That morning I decided I was going to the blood bank. BUT…….. after geology class, I decided that it would be much wiser to study for my math test and go to the blood bank the next day. Mmmmhmm, procrastinating. :D
Friday morning (yesterday) I took the test, studied at school and then around 12:30 left school for the blood bank. I pulled into Sunset Square with this knot in my stomach. Why was I nervous when I was only going to go make friends? I sat in my car with the blood bank in full view. “I will just sit here and watch until some nice looking person walks in, then I will go and ask them” I thought. No, I then decided that was stupid, I would just walk up to the building and peek in the windows to find that “friend.” The Lord had other plans. I got to the sidewalk as this very scary man walked around the corner. He was looking at me and talking to himself and then I was very scared. My only option was to go into the blood bank.
In I went. The receptionist looked up and smiled. I said “I have a predicament” and without letting me finish she said “You are in science class at the college and if you give blood you get extra credit so that you can get a good grade”. I looked at her, stunned. Finally I nodded my head and tried to explain that I didn’t want to be here, that I hated needles, that this was so not cool, but that I needed the extra credit. Somehow I ended up sitting down filling paperwork out and then before I knew it I was in a room with a nurse. She pricked my finger and I started bleeding. It hurt really bad which was only a precursor to what would come. She said I had enough blood to give, but that they would just give me a piece of paper “saying” I gave blood if I really didn’t want to continue the process. I said something about that not really being truthful and her next words really upset me “Well nobody but us will ever know that you DIDN’T”. I looked her straight in the eyes and said “But I would, and it wouldn’t be honest, so I am giving blood”. End of story.
Out I went. They got me ready and I started to panic internally. I kept asking about the pain, they kept saying you can “hardly feel it”. I warned them that I might cry. They just laughed. Then they said look away, and I as I did I felt pain rip through my arm. The tears welled up and I began crying. Sobs started to wrack my body and I tried super hard to not make a lot of noise. “Hardly feel it”… that was what they told me. ALL LIES!!! Hmph, it hurt so bad.
They got me tissues, water, ice packs. I was feeling nasty and sick. A nurse went and got “meditation” music (as they called it). Then they told me that I needed to start practicing meditation. I looked at them and laughed. Finally it was over. As the needle came out, the pain lessened in my arm only to be replaced by aching. After a while they let me get up. The lady in charge of the food and drink talked my head off, even though I only wanted peace and quiet. After they let me leave I went to my car and called my dad. He was so shocked that I had really done it, as was I . When I got off the phone, I started crying until I felt better.
In conclusion, I hate pain. Giving blood was too much pain. They asked me if I wanted to schedule my next appointment, and I just looked at them. I said that once in a lifetime is plenty. Maybe someday waaaay in the future I will give blood again. But, I do know one thing... I AM A WIMP.