home is with your homies

I remember reading in my seventh grade World Civilizations class about people called nomads. They moved from place to place without ever having any real permanent settlement. This sounded like "the life" to me, always on the move, exploring new places, herding goats. Well, maybe not the goat part, but the concept sounded glamorous. That is, until I started living it.

I am in a phase in my life with very little permanence. I am already in my second city and second job since graduating college a little over two years ago. I have lived with a total of 15 people, 2 dogs, and 1 cat in the past 7 years. (No, not at the same time.) I've seriously considered moving to at least 5 different cities in the past two years. I have done the job search thing 3 times, and am preparing for the next round. This is not the glamour I imagined. This is a problem. I have no home.

And now, after spending a much-needed and therapeutic weekend in the same city as my three best friends, sisters would actually be a better word, I find myself seriously reassessing what it means to be home. All this time I have been looking for three things I thought made "HOME".
1) The perfect city - safe, cultured, educated, fun things to do, good places to eat, places to find shoes for less than $20, this is all I asked.
2) The perfect job - with a sense of real purpose, a feeling of appreciation for what I do, the opportunity to be creative and teach how I want, freedom from standardized testing, a salary above 40k (okay I might have been stretching it on the last two...)
3) The perfect house - affordable, cute, spacious, fenced yard for the dog, plenty of little fix-it projects for me

One of the problems with these things is that they all involve the idea of perfect, something all of us seek, but none of us find, because in the end we live in the world and because it is the world and because we are human, it is undeniably flawed. So I scratch the word "perfect" and I am still left with "city, job, house". Each of those things sound so cold and empty to me when they are isolated like that. That is because they are missing one very important thing: relationship. So now I've come to find that the things I've been seeking, the things I have used to define "HOME", are inadequate. Here are my new top three:
1) Family - a church home, parents who love you unconditionally, a dog that thinks plastic bottles are treasures and stays with you while you cry, friends that know you completely inside and out and stand by you
2) Dreams - working to change lives, fighting the odds, putting yourself on the line for the good of others, wanting the seemingly impossible, planning a Christmas tree farm/art studio/book writing/antiquing/teaching career
3) God - meeting daily through prayer, reading the Word, having compassion, seeking truth, living like Jesus, sacrificing, forgiving, loving, loving, loving

Now let's look at these three words - family, dreams, God. Much more inspiring. These are things to live for. These are things to seek. As I look toward my next steps in life, I will look for these three things, and wherever I find them, I know I will be home.

told you so

Ha, I haven't written in almost a month. See blog post number one.

goodbye

One of the hazards of my job is that I care. I care a lot. I care to the point where my life weaves in with the lives of my students. You can't teach in a place like this and not give yourself daily to these children. Each one has a little fragment of my heart.

Today one left. It was unexpected. He has been my biggest struggle, the thorn in my side, the focus of so much energy and so many nights lying awake at 4 am. His anger and intimidation of other students could be overwhelming at times. Yet, underneath the entire time was a wounded soul - hurt, lost, on shaky ground that left him fearful of abandonment. I saw the real him, like rays of light peeking through cracks in storm clouds. I wanted to help him, to be the hand that reached into that lonely place and pulled him out of the dark that was his anger and fear. But now I won't get that chance. He left today for another school, another teacher, another hole to hide in. And now comes the really hard part of my job - letting go. I have cared and hugged and listened and now I watch as he turns the corner and out of my life to a future unknown to me or him. I have to release him to other hands and trust that along the way God will use the piece of my heart that I have planted in this child to bring some good to his life and to the world around him.

And yet, life moves forward. Another child moves in and takes his place. He will sit in his desk, in his corner of the room, and he will look at me with eyes that seek love and acceptance and I will give a fragment of my heart to him. And I will hope.

nothing to wear

You should know something about me. I hate trying on clothes. Sizes are always different and mirrors are deceiving. I only shop when I have one thing in mind and then I am focused and direct. The hard part is, I almost never find what I am looking for. I was thinking about this the other day as I was shoe shopping for some brown flats. My brain being what it is and never content to mindlessly search for footwear, began to wander into the realm of meaning and purpose to which it visits often, but is never entirely comfortable. Thus, I have stumbled across an analogy that I feel befits my life at this juncture. I am proud of this thought for two reasons: First, it came to me while shopping, which is not a particularly philosophical pursuit. And second, I am quite terrible at analogies and feel that this is a weakness which must be remedied so that I can appear more intelligent than I am in conversations with people of superior intellect. So without further adieu, I present my thought for the day:


My life is like a dressing room. I am forever trying things on - different job, different city, different friends - and nothing seems to fit. Everything gets tossed into that reject pile of things that were too tight or too loose or too itchy. And the mirror by which I judge is distorted so that nothing ever appears as it really is and I am left questioning whether what I am wearing at the time is a good fit. And if I continue this pattern - trying on, reflecting, rejecting - I am afraid that in the end all I will be left with is a bunch of empty hangers.


I know. It's deep. I'll give you a minute to think on it. In the meantime, does anyone know where I can find a really cute pair of brown flats?

reprint

I'm cheating. This is something I have posted elsewhere. But I like it and I'm lazy. So there.


Things to feel thankful for when teaching in the (almost) inner city.

10. Having a kid who put paint all over his face sit in the front of the room for 15 minutes and having his mom think you're brilliant for it

9. New dictionaries are like gold and are treated with wonder and respect...until the first dirty word is found and all awe ceases in a fit of giggles

8. Being able to say the word "b****" in a parent teacher conference

7. Less lack of respect for being young because you are the same age as their moms

6. The moment when you realize you don't want that trouble-maker to leave because he is making so much progress.

5. Being there when your kids see their first, and perhaps only, ballet performance.

4. Hugs that squeeze the life out of you because they are the only ones they get

3. Not being the one on recess duty when the curse words are found written in sidewalk chalk by the swingset.

2. Not being the one on recess duty when the used condom is found by the basketball court

1. On your worst day teaching, you are some child's best hope.

skipping school

It is the an eerie feeling to leave school in the middle of the day. You know that life will go on without you, kids will come and go from the room, and teaching and learning will still happen. (Though in my case this is usually accompanied by complete destruction of the room and bringing the substitute close to tears.) As I drove away from the school at noon today, blowing my nose and trying not to cough all over my steering wheel, I got to thinking about how uncomfortable I am knowing that I am not needed. Now I'm not saying that I don't make a difference, that what I do doesn't matter, but ultimately, life goes on without me. I think I am uncomfortable with this feeling because of my tendency to think of myself as the center of the universe. Almost everything I do, even when I am giving or helping others, I do because I gain something from it. This is hard to admit.

All of this makes me wonder what God thinks about me thinking about myself this way. (A confusing sentence, no? An even more confusing thought...) Essentially I make myself God every day. I put myself in His place and seek to bring more glory to myself rather than to Him. And if I am uncomfortable not being needed and important - I, who have little to offer other than a great guacamole recipe, bad jokes, and a knowledge of random useless trivia - how then does God - Creator of the universe, King of Kings, Alpha and Omega - feel when I do not make him important? When I live like I don't need Him? I think he is more than uncomfortable.

A tough thought to chew on and one I plan on exploring, especially since the only thing I have to do right now is blow my nose and drink plenty of fluids. Who says skipping school can't change your life?

i'm here

I have a blog now. I am so modern and hip. (Do modern and hip people say "modern and hip"?) I will probably post here daily for a week, then every few days, and then once every six months before I forget entirely about it and move onto some other diverting activity. I am not saying this to be pessimistic. I am saying this because I know myself and I am not a finisher. I am a starter, an idea person, a make-a-list-and-lose-it kind of girl. So enjoy it while it lasts. I will too.