hiatus

This post is a notice of my hiatus from blogging for awhile. You might be thinking, "Hiatus? Didn't she just start up again a month ago?" Well, yes. And I have enjoyed writing my thoughts here. However, I have turned blogging into another part of the comparison game I play. You know the game - the one where you measure yourself by how much you either exceed or fall short of some other person in whatever category. I compare appearances, talents, and possessions. My new flavor of comparison, though, is much worse I think. I am comparing relationships. Recently a couple of friends of mine started blogging. They are actually what prompted me to get back into the blogging world. I thought "Hey, I used to blog too! That was kind of fun. I'll do that again." But then that turned into, "Hey, look at me! I blog too! Read my blog!", which turned into "Hey, why aren't as many people reading my blog? Why don't I have as many 'followers'?" All of this ultimately turns into "Hey, people don't care about me as much. People don't like me as much. People don't want to read what I have to say." This is a dangerous, lie-filled road, and one that I am refusing to continue following. This line of thought threatens my self-worth, my relationships with my friends, and ultimately my view of my mighty, loving, gracious God. And that is something I cannot sacrifice. So until blogging becomes something I do for pure enjoyment for myself and the desire to speak to people - whether it's 1 or 100 - through writing, I will no longer be posting. My blog will collect cyber cobwebs. My life will fill with other things. And one day, perhaps, I'll be back. With a fresher perspective and with a healthier heart.

Emily

small miracles

I've always wanted to be the kind of person who sent Christmas cards annually. Maybe even with a little newsletter chronicling the previous year of my life updating friends and family with the revolving door of jobs I've had and cities I've lived in. This year I am halfway there. I am creating cards using a sketch I did of Lucy about a year ago. She looks so peaceful here. Of course most of my sketches of her are sleeping ones since that is the only time she is still enough for me to draw. I also think this sketch reflects how the holidays would be in my ideal world - slower, lazier, with enough time to enjoy the small miracles we so often take for granted. I hope you are able to enjoy a Christmas like that. Me? I'm going to go enjoy this little miracle with a game of fetch and a short snooze on the couch.

7 songs for your soul

songs to download immediately for your own good:

"that moon song" by gregory alan isakov and brandi carlile
"my mirror speaks" by death cab for cutie
"near to you" by a fine frenzy
"maybe" by ingrid michaelson
"she is love" by parachute
"life is beautiful" by vega4

and because it's christmas, my favorite - "i celebrate the day" by relient k

little girl

Little girl sits with her head in her hands,
back at Point A with disappeared plans.
Picture in her dreams is starting to blur,
and the doubts creep back in, hunting for her.
She's starting to feel herself fade away,
and all she can do is cry, think and pray.
She calls to her Father who loves without limit,
and his voice answers back; she can hear his grace in it.
A whispered reminder of eternity spoken,
enduring promise that will never be broken.
A savior, a friend, Son of God, Son of Man,
sits close by the girl with her head in her hands.

the tightrope

Driving home last night after a long and enjoyable evening, I was having a great conversation with a friend about dating and relationships. (When you're single about 75% of your conversations revolve around this topic. The other 25% is comprised of work-related talk and discussing whether these jeans make you look fat.) As we talked about the usual topic - the difficulty of meeting, or even finding, single Christian men who aren't socially awkward - I found myself gradually puffing with pride.

In our group of friends there is a multitude of single women. The ratio is very unbalanced. These women are incredible. And I'm not just saying that because they are my friends. They are. Nurses, teachers, counselors. Getting graduate degrees, taking on leadership at work, buying houses. Serving others, giving advice, intentionally reaching out. These are beautiful, strong, independent, thoughtful, loving women. I am in good company. But how is it that this incredible pool of female amazement remains single? And not just unmarried, but some of us without a date since tight-rolling and big bangs were in style. On my last date I saw the movie Titanic. In the theater.

As I stewed in my indignant outrage regarding this perplexing matter, my conversation with my friend turned to whose fault it is. I, of course, claimed it was all the males. They don't know how to pursue a woman anymore, they're all looking for the nonexistent ideal - the supermodel who has her doctorate and cooks a fantastic pot roast - and the like. But my friend challenged me to think about my (and our) part in the whole mess of dating. We as women need to be open to the men in our lives, not letting ourselves be taken advantage of and not "settling", but willing to get to know someone, to reserve judgment, and see where things go. It is okay to encourage a potential suitor (I like the old-fashioned phrasing of that, don't you?) by showing an interest in that person without being consumed by it - my usual downfall.

My friend and I ultimately concluded that responsibility lies with both sides. It is a delicate tightrope we walk in the world of dating and relationships. Lean too far to either side and disaster happens. I can do my part, but in the meantime I am going to enjoy being a part of an amazing group of single women who inspire me daily. Oh, and by the way, do these jeans make me look fat?

the music of home

Stale leaves and black ice crunch,
snap of a key in the lock and sigh of a screen door.
Coffee pops and spits in steaming pot,
clicking padded dog feet and a jingling collar.
Guitar strings playfully picked along.
The whisper of a page turned and
the sporadic scratch of ballpoint on paper.
Alto echoes room by room,
as laughter floats through warmth.
This is the music of home.

lucy

Top Ten Reasons I Have the Best Dog Ever

10. She is relentlessly hopeful. One day she will catch that squirrel.

9. She does the best pathetic starving orphan impression.

8. When she gets too excited about a treat, she just does all of her tricks in a row in hopes that one of them is right (Have you ever seen a dog shake/roll over/play dead/sit?)

7. When I cry, she comes to sit by me, usually offering me a toy and putting her head in my lap.

6. When I wake up in the morning I inevitably only have about 6 inches of space left to occupy, while she snuggles into me, but I'm warm.

5. I haven't had to clean up food off the floor in years.

4. She does somersaults. Seriously.

3. When she pulls on her leash in pursuit of the aforementioned squirrel, causing me to do a sprawling slide into the mud, it's a great reminder not to take life too seriously.

2. Even though she has chewed two legs off her stuffed tiger, it still squeaks and remains her most treasured possession.

1. She lets me curl up by her, rest my head on her side, and fall asleep after a long day. Somehow she knows I need it.

a gentle nudge

I have recently landed in the unknown and previously intimidating regions of the middle school (dun dun dun...), a land filled with hormones and cell phones, where Twilight and SpongeBob coexist, where little girls still have skating parties for their birthday, except now they invite boys. Part of the life of a middle school teacher involves trying to navigate, corral, and otherwise herd hundreds of "tweens" through crowded and often chaotic hallways without a) dropping the enormous pile of copies to be made, b) losing sight of that little stink who always wants to do his Michael Jackson moonwalk, though you've warned him repeatedly it's not a safe way to travel a congested passageway or c) generally being trampled to death. But as my brain is never content to simply survive and be thankful for the avoidance of injury, I found it wandering into deeper realms as I happily escorted my lovelies to their PE teachers with a fond farewell.

Standing in the midst of bodies, many larger than my 5'4" frame, flying every possible direction down a narrow corridor, I noticed how I instinctively guide my students out of harm's way. "A little to the right." "Watch that door." "Here, let me help you." "No, you cannot get your fifty-seventh drink of the day." It involves a hand to the elbow, blocking an undesired path, an arm about the shoulders. Always gentle, always filled with care. I want them to be safe. I want them to stay out of trouble. I want them to go the best way, the way that is clear and leads them to their final destination in one happy little piece.

I realized that this is so much like what God does in my life and the lives of all His children. He nudges us. "Don't go that way. I've got a better way for you," he whispers to us. He quietly, yet with authority, blocks the unwanted paths. He wraps a loving arm around us to keep us close. He has guided me like this so many times in my own unpredictable and seemingly disconnected little life.

I wanted to move to a city far away, but I didn't get a job and my living plans fell through. Having no other option, I moved in with my parents and landed in an urban district. I didn't know if I could cut it. I fell in love with those kids. I learned how to really teach and how to really love and connect. I moved again, thinking I wanted to be somewhere similar. God put me in a suburban school, struggling to find identity and reach kids. Somewhere my newfound strength and talents can really be used.

And that's where I find myself now. Standing in the middle of these overcrowded, congested hallways, surrounded by young souls full of energy, possibility, and often hurt. And I do what my Father does. I guide them. I direct them. I nudge them. And I make their paths clear.

"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." Proverbs 16:9

"to do" to "to done"

You may recall, if you were one of the three people who accidentally stumbled across this blog, that yesterday I had an extensive list of projects to do. Instead I chose to sit down and restart my blog. Makes sense, right? Well after that ten-minute diversion I could not avoid the work any longer. So, following a drum roll please, here is my proud list of accomplishments for the day:

• purchased a multitude of Christmas presents online (beats fighting grandmas and tired, stressed out mommies at the mall)
• finished decorating for Christmas - ribbon, garland, massive quantities of candles, dishes, and other assorted winter-themed chotchkies
  
• vacuumed 20 pounds of pine needles from the floor, furniture, and myself
  
• artfully managed to repack all the boxes and shove them in the closet before they came tumbling down
• contacted Amazon about a package that was mistakenly delivered to my house for the previous occupants who have apparently forgotten that they moved and that a change of address is required
• fiddled with the deadbolt on my front door so that it finally locks without having to push on it with the force it would take to move a semi-truck filled with deadbolts
  
• got ready for an evening out and was early (thanks to establishing a "going out uniform" which involves me wearing the same outfit every time)
• handmade a birthday card with stickers and markers, you know, old school

All in all, it was a satisfying day. It had the right blend of heavy lifting, housework, and idle internet surfing. It ended with a delicious dinner, good conversation, a Schlafly Hefeweizen, and an eleven o'clock bedtime. Just what a Saturday should be.

hello again

It's December. This is probably just about the worst time of the year to renew the blogging commitment, perhaps only surpassed by the dreaded and overwhelming first week of school or that week after school lets out when I'm busy laying comatose on the couch without showering for days on end (hey, recovery is a process, people). There is laundry wrinkling in my dryer and there are dishes crusting in the sink as I write. It looks like Christmas threw up in my living room with decorations strewn everywhere, boxes piled in corners, and pine needles clinging to every available surface. These are the projects I should be tackling. But the call to write was strong today. Perhaps it is due to the recent surge of blogging among my friends, or at the least my new awareness that my friends have blogs that they actually update consistently. Huh. Novel. So I thought I'd give it a go again and see what comes out. It may last a week, a month, or more likely, a sporadic number of days spanning several years, but no matter. I've got nothing better to do.