The Wringer

 The Wringer

I want to share a quote that's been on my mind for the past 24 hours. Normally I'd just put it in my Facebook status and be done with it, but FB isn't really the best venue for the quote. Here's the context: a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless unless she wishes to identify herself) is going through a crazy-intense rough patch in life. Something that she desperately wants seems to be just beyond her reach, and our human eyes cannot see a way to make her wish possible. On her journey through the discovery of her loss and her subsequent grieving, she's been keeping me and one other friend updated via email.

It so happens that all three of us have been through the wringer. Life has not been kind. God has chosen to allow us to be put through the fire rather than spare us the pain. And while we don't always understand why or see the benefit, we trust that He has a plan, and that the plan is good. Always, the plan is good.

Here's the quote that's got my mind working: "I am grateful to both of you and that your lives have not been perfect, because you are real to me. We're kind of like the Velveteen Rabbit. I guess instead of love making us real, suffering makes us real."

In that quote, part of the goodness of the plan was revealed to me. My suffering makes me real. It makes me authentic, approachable, and not just a little worse for wear.

Hopeful stuff. 


***Update: Research Paper of Doom is finished, submitted, and graded. I got an A. This is more of a testament to the professor's idiocy than my ability to design an excellent research proposal. Was is it passable? Yes. Was it good? Maybe. Was it excellent? No way. The writing might have been excellent, but the proposal itself was not. But whatever, I still have a 4.0.

Picture Day

Friday was picture day at school. Insanity was the overarching theme. 

At the middle school level, picture day is a big deal. It’s hilarious to watch, actually. Students agonize for days over what to wear and get up a bit earlier to make sure they have extra time to spend in order to look nice. One of my kids even went shopping the night before just so she’d have a cute shirt to wear. The boys actually shower to make sure their Justin Bieber hair is swooping just right. The girls bring brushes to class and wear their hair down. All of them wear their best name-brand shirts. Like I said, it’s a big freaking deal.

In Transition

Hey ya'll. It's been awhile.

Since I last posted, I've moved. I've started my research proposal. I've been grieving the loss of my surrogate mother. I've been teaching. I've been sorting my belongings into complex categories (stuff I might need at the new place, stuff I want to keep in our storage unit, stuff to get rid of, stuff to ship to Australia...the list goes on). Oh, and this morning, someone smashed my driver's side window. Let's add that to the list, shall we?

All of that to say that I haven't been writing. But I have been thinking about writing. Posts are forthcoming, I just can't say when.

In the meantime, I have a new love I'd like to share with you: Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary. When I read this blog I am challenged to be more authentic, more hopeful, and more...me. Sarcasm, swearing, and all. Read it. You'll love it.

Me vs. Educational Research

I'm working on my Master's degree. It's something that I've needed to do for a while, and my current position as a teacher of gifted students is forcing the issue. In order to teach gifted classes, one needs a special certification. Since I don't have that certification, I have to go back to school to get it. When I took the job, I was actually quite relieved to be forced to go back to school. I knew I needed to get my Master's done, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to study. This job narrowed my choices to one, which was a relief.

Once the decision was made, I put the pedal to the metal. I started working on my courses last July, and just a year later I have 21 hours of credit. While earning those 21 hours, I worked full-time in a brand new job. Back in March I was filling out a form and I was able to check two boxes: one under "full-time student" and the other under "employed full-time". That was the point when I began to question my sanity.

The beginning of every semester is a stressful time for me because it's when the syllabus is distributed. In my eyes, the syllabus is life and death condensed into document form. The ISTJ in me loves having anything resembling a schedule or list, and a syllabus is exactly that: a list of things we will be doing in class, a list of due dates, a list of things I need to complete in order to earn an A. At the same time, the syllabus intimidates me. I see all of the work I'll be completing, and I mentally start to highlight the ways in which I don't measure up. I'm too busy to do this. I'm not a good enough teacher to complete my own work and care for my students. I can't be a good wife and student at the same time.

But mostly, I hear this: I'm not smart enough. I'm not smart enough. I'm not smart enough. This is going to be the class that defeats me; the one in which it is revealed to everyone that I'm actually pretty stupid. I'll get a bad grade, and everyone will know what I've known all along.

This semester I'm taking my research course. By the end of November, I will have designed and submitted a three chapter proposal for a research study. It will be about 30 pages long. Essentially, it's the first half of my dissertation. Right now, I have no idea how I'm going to get this done. I'm intimidated as hell.

This blog post isn't one with a tidy little ending. I'm not to the point where I can say it's all going to be all right. It probably will be, but I don't feel that way yet. Right now I'm living in the doubt. Maybe I'm smart enough. Maybe I'm not.

Maybe I should stop blogging and start doing my homework. Maybe.

UNhappy Feet

The Missouri Department of Elementary and Secondary Education website does not make me happy. It makes me downright angry. I can never find what I want in a timely manner, and when I do find it, the information is incomplete. The Kentucky website is much better. Boy, that's something I never thought I'd say.

(And let's be honest...unless we're talking about bourbon, basketball, southern food or horse races, one should never be able to say that Kentucky does it better!)

My Life: The Soundtrack

Next month, Andy and I will be moving to a different part of the city. We're shacking up with our good friends the Campbells in preparation for our eventual move to Australia. In order to prepare for this, we've spent some time sorting through all of the crap boxes in our basement. On Thursday, we decided to tackle our CD collection. Since Andy is a musician and lover of all things music, I knew this was an undertaking of epic proportions. Still, I had no idea that it would literally take all weekend. When we started, things looked something like this:

Imagine this, but multiply it times a million.

  

After several days of work, this is the new state of our music collection:

This makes me breathe much easier!

No Suitable Title

I received word yesterday that a former student committed suicide over the weekend. She was only 15.

I wonder what happened during her short life that made her want to check out so early. I wonder if she showed warning signs that were somehow missed. I wonder what we all could have done to show her how precious she was, and how the evils that she had experienced were worth fighting against. I wonder what it would have taken to make her want to choose life.

Today I am sad.