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.

insomnia

I never thought I'd be one of those people who really loved to sleep. I've always been an early riser and rarely nap. I just feel like there are so many things to be doing and I'm wasting time if I am sleeping. I go to bed early to ensure my eight hours and switch off the alarm at the first buzz. I didn't even know the snooze button existed for the first twenty-something years of my life. I always hit the ground running.

Every night when I get in bed I read or do sudoku (insert geek joke here) and try to get my mind to begin the shift into neutral. Only lately, my mind hasn't slowed down at night. It's still motoring, gears turning, full speed ahead. In that small moment, just before I turn out the light my head fills. Worries and what-ifs. Doubts. Anxiousness. Analysis. Over-analysis. As the external world fades into quiet, these thoughts come shouting into my brain.

There are two demons at work here. One is the nagging worry. I said something stupid. It's going to storm. What if I never fall in love? The other demon is my need for control. I can't change what I said. I can't dictate the weather. I can't make love happen. I am not in charge. Both demons lead to fear. Fear curls up in the corner of the brain and settles in at the most vulnerable times. For me, it is that edge between awake and asleep.

So I find myself on the attack. The best way I know to fight demons is through prayer. Here is my new nightly prayer:

God, this day has been yours from beginning to end. As I pass into sleep, please keep my thoughts on you and your countless blessings. Speak to me, Lord, in my dreams and in the stillness. May I be reminded of your unconditional love and faithfulness. And may I be filled with a peace that comes from knowing you hold me in your hands of protection and grace. Amen.

So now I will turn down the covers, push the dog to her side of the bed, flip the switch, and talk to God. And get what I never thought I'd need so badly.

A little sleep.

a few years worth of wisdom

Advice to the Me I Used to Be:

1. You'll make plans. God will have different ones. Be flexible.

2. Overalls were not, and never will be stylish.

3. Pay attention. To people. To your surroundings. Soak in God's blessings.

4. Leave. Go somewhere. See the world before the excuses set in.

5. You can teach tough kids.

6. You really should balance your checkbook.

7. First impressions are confusing, and should often be totally ignored.

8. If he isn't trying, he isn't interested.

9. Just because it's what is expected of you, it doesn't make it right.

10. Make eye contact. You never know.