I was having one of those moments. A moment where the filter in my brain was turned off and whatever scrolled across my mind immediately exited my lips.
My boys and I were at Chic Fil A, which is our favorite fast food place. It was 2 p.m. and we were just eating lunch. So, of course, we were all cranky. We got our food and then gather up all the condiments, make it to our table and start to sort out our food. This was all feeling very stressful at the time.
Will, my 6 year old, knocked over his drink, and just a little spilled. I handed him a napkin and told him to hurry up and clean it up. And then he tried to hand the used, wet napkin back to me and I hatefully replied, "I'm not a trash can."
Normally, I wouldn't have thought much more about it and chalked it up to extreme hunger and stress. But today a mom and her 3-year-old son were sitting at a table behind us. Just after I quipped my non-trash can remark, the little boy behind me says, "Mommy, I'm not a trash can either." The mom was sweet and gentle and engaged her son in a long funny conversation about if he was a trash can or a garbage truck and which would be better.
I was horrified at my behavior. I was regretting my words. I started to wonder what that sweet, kind mother was thinking of my terse comment that I had for my sweet 6 year old. The mommy guilt was swallowing me whole. I of course regretted sounding so sharp and cranky.
The rest of lunch was uneventful. We all perked up after we had some food in our bellies and the crankiness went away. The boys got ice cream cones and all was right in the world, except for my mommy guilt.
Suddenly, Will asked me to hold his ice cream cone, and I obliged. He got up from the table and left me wondering what in the world he was doing. I watched as he walked to the condiment area, picked up a straw off the floor and followed a woman and her baby to their table. He tapped her shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but I think you dropped this." The woman was caught by surprise and thanked Will for his kindness.
I was speechless and I felt my eyes warm with tears. Will walked back over and sat down and thought nothing of his random act of kindness. He took his ice cream cone and started in eating it.
My heart was about to burst. I couldn't have been more proud of my son. My goal is to raise him to be a kind man, and this showed that he was well on his way. "I am so proud of you son. That was awesome," I said, trying not to cry in a public place.
Then I heard the voice of the woman with the little boy at the table behind me. "Yes, that was awesome," she said. "You don't see that everyday.
I turned to see her eyes filled with tears, too. She was also amazed at Will's thoughtfulness. We chit chatted a little after that and laughed at how emotional we had gotten at such a little thing.
And then, instead of feeling like a bad mom, I knew that my son's actions had redeemed me. My son's kind actions spoke louder than my cranky words.
It reminded me of another way I have been redeemed by a son. God sent His son to redeem me from my sins. Jesus' sacrifice not only redeemed me from cranky words said in public, but for every sin I have ever committed and will ever commit.
As each nail entered Jesus' hand and foot, it represented my sin. As Jesus was whipped and beaten and mocked, he suffered for the things I have done. As Jesus was separated from God, the unimaginable anguish he felt was because of the sins I have committed.
Jesus' actions on the cross redeemed me from a life apart from God and made it possible for me to bury my old life and live a new life in God.
As proud as I am of my son's simple kind act at Chic Fil A, I can't imagine the deep pride God must have felt when Jesus ministered to the lost and eventually sacrificed his life on the cross so I could live. There has never been a more redeeming act ever made.
And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” Matthew 3:17
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Finding My Voice Again
It's been a while since I have posted. Part of the reason why is that I have been busy with a new career. Working full time has been a huge change, not just for me, but also for my family. Finding time to do the things I enjoy, such as writing, has been difficult.
But the other part of the reason I haven't posted has been because I have lost my voice. Today, I am trying to find it again.
I have done a little writing this year. In fact, the writing I have done has been my favorite style that I have ever composed. It has recently been on display in major ways throughout the U.S. and even abroad.
I admitted today to my mom that the reason I haven't written more has been because I am afraid that I am not good enough. I have doubt. What if I've outreached my potential? What if I run out of things to say? What if I'm being judged, or worse, laughed at, and I don't know it?
Self doubt has crept in. I have let it control me.
But now, I am going to work on overcoming my insecurities and charge ahead.
After all, the biggest risks also carry the biggest rewards.
But the other part of the reason I haven't posted has been because I have lost my voice. Today, I am trying to find it again.
I have done a little writing this year. In fact, the writing I have done has been my favorite style that I have ever composed. It has recently been on display in major ways throughout the U.S. and even abroad.
I admitted today to my mom that the reason I haven't written more has been because I am afraid that I am not good enough. I have doubt. What if I've outreached my potential? What if I run out of things to say? What if I'm being judged, or worse, laughed at, and I don't know it?
Self doubt has crept in. I have let it control me.
But now, I am going to work on overcoming my insecurities and charge ahead.
After all, the biggest risks also carry the biggest rewards.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Scars
When I was two years old, I was playing with my doll in my living room. I tossed her across the room and then ran after her. My clutzy nature had already started because just before I reached my doll, I tripped and fell face first, crashing into the ground. My chin was the first part of my body to hit, which slammed my little mouth closed. Unfortunately, my bottom lip was under my front teeth at that moment and I ended up biting all the way through it. There was blood, a trip to the Emergency Room and several stitches that followed. As a result I have a nice white scar, still to this day, that you can see on my bottom lip when I pull it tight against my teeth. It was my first scar.
Over the next three decades, I have accrued many more scars. Knee surgeries, wrist surgeries, mishaps with scissors, skids on pavement on my knees and other accidents have scarred my body. Fortunately, all that’s left are the scars. There is no more pain associated with the old injuries. They have long since healed, although I wouldn’t be surprised if I earned a couple of more during the course of my life. After all, I am still a clutz.
I also have scars that no one really sees. They are emotional scars I have received in the last 35 years. There have been bad things that have happened to me that have left their mark on my life. Those ‘wounds’ have healed. However, they are still there and affect my decision making sometimes. This might mean I back away from a challenge when I should face it head on. It might mean that I make a decision based on fear instead of in confidence. It also might mean I have learned a painful lesson already and won’t make the same mistake again.
The Apostle Paul was also scarred. He speaks of a mysterious ‘thorn in his flesh’ that he asked to be taken from him. In 2 Corinthians, Paul speaks of amazing visions he received from the Lord. Then in verse 7 it says, “So to keep me from becoming proud, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.” (New Living Translation) This surely left a scar in Paul’s flesh.
Like anyone, Paul hated the thorn in his flesh. In fact, he says in verses 8-10, “Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (New Living Translation)
Paul’s thorn made him rely up on God’s grace because that is how God works. He needs us to draw on his strength when we are weak. He needs us to let go of the control and turn over the steering wheel to Him. This must have not been easy for Paul. Besides the thorn in his flesh, Paul spoke about Christ to his detriment many, many times. He was jailed and beaten repeatedly, but that did not stop him from spreading Christ’s message of forgiveness to anyone who would listen, even the jailers who kept him imprisoned.
After all that Paul had gone through to spread Christ’s message, he got pretty tired of hearing about stuff in life that didn’t really matter. Specifically in Galatians, chapter 6, Paul closes his letter to the churches in southern Glatia, in his own handwriting to emphasize his seriousness. (Paul used a scribe to write the rest of his letters.) There was a problem in these churches. Some people were forcing circumcision on people in order to be able to brag that they had converted them. All the while, the people forcing circumcision were not keeping the law themselves.
Paul said in verses 14-16, “For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can't you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them!” (The Message)
What God had done for Paul is let him experience many physically and emotionally painful circumstances so that God could be glorified. Paul got it. The people who he was talking about did not. “Quite frankly, I don't want to be bothered anymore by these disputes. I have far more important things to do—the serious living of this faith. I bear in my body scars from my service to Jesus.” (Galatians 6:17, The Message)
These scars proved that Paul had served Jesus Christ, his personal Lord and Savior. Paul’s beatings, the thorn in his flesh, his misery, were not wasted on him. He could look down at each scar and see the reminder about what his life was all about. Everyone who knew Paul knew that he was a follower and teacher of Christ Jesus. When they saw his scars, they also knew that he earned those while following Christ.
Thank God we live in a country where we are free to profess Christ, follow Him and teach others about him openly. We don’t face beatings, floggings, or imprisonment when we follow Christ. Especially in Oklahoma, we are surrounded by other people who believe the same way we do. There are churches everywhere you look and plenty of denominations to choose from. The little resistance we do face in some areas cannot compare to the persecution Paul faced, as do many people in other corners of the world.
Yet, I believe we have scars, too. They might be mostly positive scars, but they are there. They are the things people see when they look at us that identify us as a follower of Christ. Maybe it’s the cross necklace you wear. Or maybe it is something intangible. Maybe it is the spirit they see in you. Maybe it’s the light you shine in dark corners.
So what are your scars? What are the marks that tell others that you belong to Christ? Do you cover them with long sleeves and make up, or do you show them off proudly to the world? Do you let others know who you belong to? Do you leave any room for doubt? I am challenged by the Apostle Paul to quit hiding my scars and embrace them. I want others to see Christ in me as they saw Christ in Paul. I may have a long way to go, but rolling up my sleeves is the first step.
Monday, April 19, 2010
A 15-Year Path
I really want to write about what today means to me, but I am finding it hard to put into words. And if you know me, that is pretty unusual.
As you probably know, it is the 15th anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing. A coward terrorist drove a moving truck in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building and ran. That bomb killed 168 men, women and children.
I was 20 and working at the University of Oklahoma student newspaper. I still lived at home with my parents. I was at the scene an hour after the explosion and covered the bombing for weeks. Actually, it was months and even years. I have written about the bombing time and time again. I have written for newspapers, yearbooks and for myself.
You think I would have said it all by now. But this year, God is once again reminding me that He is still using those events to grow me and mold me to who I am and who I will be.
I could tell you so many stories from that day and the days that followed. They are burned into my memory as if they just happened. I recently did an interview about my experience and the reporter was amazed at my recall. I wasn't. Besides the day I became a Christian, the day I was married, and the day my children were born, there has been no other day or event in my life that has been as meaningful to me as the Oklahoma City Bombing.
There are many reasons that it is so meaningful. Most importantly, my search for God began through that experience, even though I didn't know that God was who I was searching for. I am proud to say that I found him some four years later.
It is also meaningful to me because of the people with whom I shared the experience: my coworkers at The Oklahoma Daily. Omar, Joy, Tiffany, Lori, Annette and many, many others poured their heart and souls into covering the stories as professionally as possible. Although we have all moved on in different directions, that event binds us in a way that I can't even describe. Although hundreds, maybe thousands, of journalists covered the bombing, there were just a few of us who were so young. We all changed because of our experience, and I would argue we all grew up because of it.
This year, however, what has impacted me the most is where I am today, 15 years later. The one thing I was sure of after covering the bombing 15 years ago is that I couldn't grow up and just be a journalist. While I love writing and reporting and covering things that are meaningful, I was left filling extremely unfulfilled from my experience of just writing about things and not helping directly.
That experience taught me something about myself. I needed to do more than write; I needed to be able to take action. I saw the way the American Red Cross responded to the disaster and thought that was my calling. After a few years more in journalism after the bombing, I went to work for the Red Cross, even working at the fifth anniversary memorial service when they opened the national memorial as a Red Crosser.
Although I loved the Red Cross and all that it did for people (and still do), that wasn't my calling. I kept looking in all sorts of places. I started to hear the call from God that I should be a counselor. That seemed out of reach. I knew I would need a Master's Degree and an entirely different education before I could do that, and life was in the way of achieving that goal.
I tried once to make it happen, and even started a Master's program. However, after taking just one class, I dropped out. I had a baby and a job in another town. It was just too hard. But God never took away that call from my life. I talked about becoming a counselor a lot to a lot of different people. My family, my friends, even my pastor. But I always had an excuse of why I couldn't do it.
Finally, this last year, God set loose a chain of events that left me with no doubt that now was the time to pursue His call on my life. I started the same program again in August and will have earned my Master's Degree in Human Relations by this August. If all goes according to plan, I will attain my alternate certification to be a school counselor, and if I am blessed, I will be a working school counselor by this August.
I am going to be a counselor. I really am. And I am going to do it because of the way God changed me 15 years ago today. He showed me a part of myself that I didn't know that I had and has used the last 15 years to bring me to where I am now.
Today, I was interning as a counselor in a middle school. And I got to have a long talk with a beautiful young lady who I care about deeply. She has had a rough past and is doing all that she can to overcome her circumstances. I was able to encourage her and love her and tell her that I believed in her. And she smiled at me. That was the perfect reward for my hard work.
She wasn't even alive 15 years ago, but God knew when the bombing occurred where I would be today and what I would be doing. And he has used every moment of my life up until now preparing me for today and for my future.
The most wonderful thing about all of this is that what was meant for evil 15 years ago has eventually turned into hope and love. A coward killed 168 people and devastated each of those families and their friends. Not to mention the devastation faced by rescue workers and all those who experience the Oklahoma City Bombing so closely.
However, the spirit of Oklahomans and the nation would not let a coward's act end there. We have worked to make the most out of a horrible situation. The result has been unity, affection, selflessness, victory and survival.
For me, it has meant that I could fulfill the call God has always had on my life and serve Him while doing so. Of course I wish that the bombing hadn't happened, but I am so grateful for all the lessons I have learned because it did.
"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,' declares the LORD." - Jeremiah 29:11-14a
As you probably know, it is the 15th anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing. A coward terrorist drove a moving truck in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building and ran. That bomb killed 168 men, women and children.
I was 20 and working at the University of Oklahoma student newspaper. I still lived at home with my parents. I was at the scene an hour after the explosion and covered the bombing for weeks. Actually, it was months and even years. I have written about the bombing time and time again. I have written for newspapers, yearbooks and for myself.
You think I would have said it all by now. But this year, God is once again reminding me that He is still using those events to grow me and mold me to who I am and who I will be.
I could tell you so many stories from that day and the days that followed. They are burned into my memory as if they just happened. I recently did an interview about my experience and the reporter was amazed at my recall. I wasn't. Besides the day I became a Christian, the day I was married, and the day my children were born, there has been no other day or event in my life that has been as meaningful to me as the Oklahoma City Bombing.
There are many reasons that it is so meaningful. Most importantly, my search for God began through that experience, even though I didn't know that God was who I was searching for. I am proud to say that I found him some four years later.
It is also meaningful to me because of the people with whom I shared the experience: my coworkers at The Oklahoma Daily. Omar, Joy, Tiffany, Lori, Annette and many, many others poured their heart and souls into covering the stories as professionally as possible. Although we have all moved on in different directions, that event binds us in a way that I can't even describe. Although hundreds, maybe thousands, of journalists covered the bombing, there were just a few of us who were so young. We all changed because of our experience, and I would argue we all grew up because of it.
This year, however, what has impacted me the most is where I am today, 15 years later. The one thing I was sure of after covering the bombing 15 years ago is that I couldn't grow up and just be a journalist. While I love writing and reporting and covering things that are meaningful, I was left filling extremely unfulfilled from my experience of just writing about things and not helping directly.
That experience taught me something about myself. I needed to do more than write; I needed to be able to take action. I saw the way the American Red Cross responded to the disaster and thought that was my calling. After a few years more in journalism after the bombing, I went to work for the Red Cross, even working at the fifth anniversary memorial service when they opened the national memorial as a Red Crosser.
Although I loved the Red Cross and all that it did for people (and still do), that wasn't my calling. I kept looking in all sorts of places. I started to hear the call from God that I should be a counselor. That seemed out of reach. I knew I would need a Master's Degree and an entirely different education before I could do that, and life was in the way of achieving that goal.
I tried once to make it happen, and even started a Master's program. However, after taking just one class, I dropped out. I had a baby and a job in another town. It was just too hard. But God never took away that call from my life. I talked about becoming a counselor a lot to a lot of different people. My family, my friends, even my pastor. But I always had an excuse of why I couldn't do it.
Finally, this last year, God set loose a chain of events that left me with no doubt that now was the time to pursue His call on my life. I started the same program again in August and will have earned my Master's Degree in Human Relations by this August. If all goes according to plan, I will attain my alternate certification to be a school counselor, and if I am blessed, I will be a working school counselor by this August.
I am going to be a counselor. I really am. And I am going to do it because of the way God changed me 15 years ago today. He showed me a part of myself that I didn't know that I had and has used the last 15 years to bring me to where I am now.
Today, I was interning as a counselor in a middle school. And I got to have a long talk with a beautiful young lady who I care about deeply. She has had a rough past and is doing all that she can to overcome her circumstances. I was able to encourage her and love her and tell her that I believed in her. And she smiled at me. That was the perfect reward for my hard work.
She wasn't even alive 15 years ago, but God knew when the bombing occurred where I would be today and what I would be doing. And he has used every moment of my life up until now preparing me for today and for my future.
The most wonderful thing about all of this is that what was meant for evil 15 years ago has eventually turned into hope and love. A coward killed 168 people and devastated each of those families and their friends. Not to mention the devastation faced by rescue workers and all those who experience the Oklahoma City Bombing so closely.
However, the spirit of Oklahomans and the nation would not let a coward's act end there. We have worked to make the most out of a horrible situation. The result has been unity, affection, selflessness, victory and survival.
For me, it has meant that I could fulfill the call God has always had on my life and serve Him while doing so. Of course I wish that the bombing hadn't happened, but I am so grateful for all the lessons I have learned because it did.
"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,' declares the LORD." - Jeremiah 29:11-14a
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Am I Willing?
I have accepted the challenge through a local church to read the New Testament in 40 days. I was hesitant to do this at first because of how ridiculously busy April is in my little world. However, God has reminded me more than once that for me, being busy distracts me from spending time with Him, so I agreed.
Today was the second day of our reading, and we read a few chapters in one of the Gospels, the book of Luke. Out of all that I read today, something I read today (and have read before) has stayed with me all day. I keep turning the words over and over in my hear. In Luke 5:12-13, it says, "While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, 'Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.' Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!' And immediately the leprosy left him."
The first thing that impressed me was that a man with leprosy was bold enough to approach Jesus and ask for his help. People with leprosy were ostracized from their communities. They lived either alone or with other people with the same condition until the died a painful death. There was no cure. But this man, who had been cast away from his peers because of his medical condition, was brave enough to seek out Jesus and asked him to heal him.
What impressed me far more was Jesus response: "I am willing." I am willing.
That phrase has played over and over in my head today. I am willing. And I know that He is willing to help me with my needs, too. The knowing isn't the issue for me. It is the releasing of my needs to Him that is hard for me.
I can almost imagine Christ looking at me when I am in anguish over something, reaching out his hand, touching my shoulder and saying, "Michelle, I am willing to help you." I feel sure that if I saw Jesus in front of me I would let Him help me with anything and everything. We don't have that opportunity today. We have to trust in the unseen and believe that Jesus will help us.
There are so many things in my life to worry about right now. My family, my school, graduating, finding a job for next year, the kids I am working with at the schools where I am interning... and those are just the legitimate worries I have. There is a whole slate of pointless worries I struggle with.
However, the whole time I am worrying, there has been a soft voice whispering to me, "Michelle, I am willing to help you." I have held tight my grip to all that I need to let go.
So I guess the real question for me isn't, "Lord, are you willing to help me?" I know the answer to that question. The real question is, "Am I willing to let Jesus help me?"
Are you willing?
Today was the second day of our reading, and we read a few chapters in one of the Gospels, the book of Luke. Out of all that I read today, something I read today (and have read before) has stayed with me all day. I keep turning the words over and over in my hear. In Luke 5:12-13, it says, "While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, 'Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.' Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!' And immediately the leprosy left him."
The first thing that impressed me was that a man with leprosy was bold enough to approach Jesus and ask for his help. People with leprosy were ostracized from their communities. They lived either alone or with other people with the same condition until the died a painful death. There was no cure. But this man, who had been cast away from his peers because of his medical condition, was brave enough to seek out Jesus and asked him to heal him.
What impressed me far more was Jesus response: "I am willing." I am willing.
That phrase has played over and over in my head today. I am willing. And I know that He is willing to help me with my needs, too. The knowing isn't the issue for me. It is the releasing of my needs to Him that is hard for me.
I can almost imagine Christ looking at me when I am in anguish over something, reaching out his hand, touching my shoulder and saying, "Michelle, I am willing to help you." I feel sure that if I saw Jesus in front of me I would let Him help me with anything and everything. We don't have that opportunity today. We have to trust in the unseen and believe that Jesus will help us.
There are so many things in my life to worry about right now. My family, my school, graduating, finding a job for next year, the kids I am working with at the schools where I am interning... and those are just the legitimate worries I have. There is a whole slate of pointless worries I struggle with.
However, the whole time I am worrying, there has been a soft voice whispering to me, "Michelle, I am willing to help you." I have held tight my grip to all that I need to let go.
So I guess the real question for me isn't, "Lord, are you willing to help me?" I know the answer to that question. The real question is, "Am I willing to let Jesus help me?"
Are you willing?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
What A Year
I have really been dreading today, my 35th birthday. The dread has been about a lot of things, including my gray hairs, me memory loss, my stage in life and other things, too.
I looked in the rear view mirror this week for a quick make-up check and saw four renegade white hairs growing in. They were sticking straight up. I fought the urge to pluck them and instead tried my best to make them lay flat.
My memory is slipping. I know my brain is on overload, but I am being uncharacteristically absent minded. I locked my keys in the car this week. Twice. I have locked my keys in my car maybe 5 times in my entire life, twice of which were this week.
I am in that awkward life stage of kids being little but being in school. And since I am finishing my degree I don't have a full-time job (although it feels like I do most days). So I feel sort of in between.
But the real reason I have been dreading this day is because it is the first anniversary of the beginning of a chain of events that has changed many, many parts of my life. As I was praying about it this morning, God reminded me that even though much of this last year has been painful, it is exactly where He wants me to be.
There is nothing coincidental about how different my life is today than it was a year ago. A year ago today, I served my church in a major leadership role, was active in Bible study, led a small group and had no intention of changing my path. I was comfortable. And as I know all too well, comfortable is not a place to be to grow closer to God.
So as a result, God shook up my world. A few months before my birthday last year, I felt like God was slowly pulling my out of things and asking me to unbusy myself. And to trust Him. I started slowing down, but still was very involved in my church. Through an unforeseeable circumstance, God pulled me away from that, too. I never would have walked away from that on my own, so He had to pull. And it really, really, really hurt.
I spent about the next four months in a crisis. Everything I knew about my life changed. My identity that I had affiliated myself with for long was gone. Bible study was over. School was out, and I didn't have a church home anymore. I felt lost and empty and far from God. I couldn't understand why God would allow all of my ground to fall away from underneath me.
One afternoon in July, as I was sitting right here at my computer, I had my head in my hands. I felt so confused and alone and even a little angry. That's when God let me in on something. He reminded me that if there was anyone to be angry at, it was Him. He had allowed the chain of events to unfold the way they did. I couldn't argue and I knew I needed to forgive.
He also reminded me of the call He had given me years before, that I had ignored for a long time. The call was to be a counselor. I had started a Master's degree program in 2002 to be a counselor, but life got in the way. I only took one class before a quit the program. The next 8 years have been filled with kids and jobs and church. Although God had been quietly been reminding me of His call on my life all along, I always had an excuse. I was too busy. My kids were too small. My church needed me somewhere else. It cost too much money.
Suddenly, all my excuses were gone. My kids were both going to be in school. I was no longer super busy. I had no full-time job. And not only did my church not need me (and I know the church never really needed me), I didn't even have a church.
I immediately got online and looked up the program I had started in 2002. I made some phone calls and realized that even though it was late July, it was possible for me to start the program in August.
From there, one door after another flew open. The same day I applied to graduate school, I got admitted. The same day I applied to the program, I was accepted. And my parents offered to pay for my schooling, something I could not have afforded to do on my own. On top of that, there were openings in two classes. I started class at the end of August. I was going to be a counselor.
God knew He would have to clear my plate entirely for me to follow the call He had on my life. Although I would never have chosen this year to go the way it did, I can clearly see the purpose behind why it happened. It is so clear to me now that this was the plan all along.
This year has been a blur. Every single door has opened for me in major ways. I got the internship of my dreams, when I was told that someone in my program could never get this internship. My internship has confirmed that school counseling is my calling and where I should be.
When I realized two weeks ago that I needed to graduate this July instead of December, every door has opened. Deadlines I missed were waved. My class from 2002 was revalidated. I got in to classes I had to have. And my family has been nothing but supportive. I am going to graduate with a Master's Degree in Human Relations in one year, and hopefully I will pass my alternate certification test in April and get hired somewhere as a school counselor next year.
A year ago, graduate school was not even on my radar. Today, I have four months until I graduate.
I have decided to choose to see today as a reminder of the way God can move in my life and open doors for me, even when I am reluctant to walk through. I know he will nudge me along when I need the help.
I can say with confidence now, that I wouldn't change the last year. Although we are still looking for a church and are still recovering from the hurt, God has shown me this year who my true friends are, who He is, and who He wants me to be. You can't really ask for more than that.
I looked in the rear view mirror this week for a quick make-up check and saw four renegade white hairs growing in. They were sticking straight up. I fought the urge to pluck them and instead tried my best to make them lay flat.
My memory is slipping. I know my brain is on overload, but I am being uncharacteristically absent minded. I locked my keys in the car this week. Twice. I have locked my keys in my car maybe 5 times in my entire life, twice of which were this week.
I am in that awkward life stage of kids being little but being in school. And since I am finishing my degree I don't have a full-time job (although it feels like I do most days). So I feel sort of in between.
But the real reason I have been dreading this day is because it is the first anniversary of the beginning of a chain of events that has changed many, many parts of my life. As I was praying about it this morning, God reminded me that even though much of this last year has been painful, it is exactly where He wants me to be.
There is nothing coincidental about how different my life is today than it was a year ago. A year ago today, I served my church in a major leadership role, was active in Bible study, led a small group and had no intention of changing my path. I was comfortable. And as I know all too well, comfortable is not a place to be to grow closer to God.
So as a result, God shook up my world. A few months before my birthday last year, I felt like God was slowly pulling my out of things and asking me to unbusy myself. And to trust Him. I started slowing down, but still was very involved in my church. Through an unforeseeable circumstance, God pulled me away from that, too. I never would have walked away from that on my own, so He had to pull. And it really, really, really hurt.
I spent about the next four months in a crisis. Everything I knew about my life changed. My identity that I had affiliated myself with for long was gone. Bible study was over. School was out, and I didn't have a church home anymore. I felt lost and empty and far from God. I couldn't understand why God would allow all of my ground to fall away from underneath me.
One afternoon in July, as I was sitting right here at my computer, I had my head in my hands. I felt so confused and alone and even a little angry. That's when God let me in on something. He reminded me that if there was anyone to be angry at, it was Him. He had allowed the chain of events to unfold the way they did. I couldn't argue and I knew I needed to forgive.
He also reminded me of the call He had given me years before, that I had ignored for a long time. The call was to be a counselor. I had started a Master's degree program in 2002 to be a counselor, but life got in the way. I only took one class before a quit the program. The next 8 years have been filled with kids and jobs and church. Although God had been quietly been reminding me of His call on my life all along, I always had an excuse. I was too busy. My kids were too small. My church needed me somewhere else. It cost too much money.
Suddenly, all my excuses were gone. My kids were both going to be in school. I was no longer super busy. I had no full-time job. And not only did my church not need me (and I know the church never really needed me), I didn't even have a church.
I immediately got online and looked up the program I had started in 2002. I made some phone calls and realized that even though it was late July, it was possible for me to start the program in August.
From there, one door after another flew open. The same day I applied to graduate school, I got admitted. The same day I applied to the program, I was accepted. And my parents offered to pay for my schooling, something I could not have afforded to do on my own. On top of that, there were openings in two classes. I started class at the end of August. I was going to be a counselor.
God knew He would have to clear my plate entirely for me to follow the call He had on my life. Although I would never have chosen this year to go the way it did, I can clearly see the purpose behind why it happened. It is so clear to me now that this was the plan all along.
This year has been a blur. Every single door has opened for me in major ways. I got the internship of my dreams, when I was told that someone in my program could never get this internship. My internship has confirmed that school counseling is my calling and where I should be.
When I realized two weeks ago that I needed to graduate this July instead of December, every door has opened. Deadlines I missed were waved. My class from 2002 was revalidated. I got in to classes I had to have. And my family has been nothing but supportive. I am going to graduate with a Master's Degree in Human Relations in one year, and hopefully I will pass my alternate certification test in April and get hired somewhere as a school counselor next year.
A year ago, graduate school was not even on my radar. Today, I have four months until I graduate.
I have decided to choose to see today as a reminder of the way God can move in my life and open doors for me, even when I am reluctant to walk through. I know he will nudge me along when I need the help.
I can say with confidence now, that I wouldn't change the last year. Although we are still looking for a church and are still recovering from the hurt, God has shown me this year who my true friends are, who He is, and who He wants me to be. You can't really ask for more than that.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A Matter of Perspective
I am traveling up and down a steep learning curve right now. I am learning how to be a school counselor. I am currently serving an internship three days a week at a Norman middle school and an elementary school by splitting my time between the two. I have some of the best counselors in Norman mentoring me and guiding me.
I have learned all sorts of interesting things during my internship, including: how to perform a successful lunch duty, the importance of updating bulletin boards, how to handle a lockdown when you are in the middle of teaching a lesson to kindergartners, that unattended food in the break room is fair game, that kids mostly don't care if your door is shut - they try to come in anyway, that while some things have changed since I was a kid the general feeling of angst you get in middle school is still the same, that test monitoring is a pretty basic job, that kids in every grade, in every school and in every classroom need a counselor once in a while, and that counseling students takes a lot of reading between the lines.
My biggest lessons that I have learned so far, however are really not so much about counseling as much as they are about myself. First, my suspicion that I would really love school counseling has been confirmed. I do love it. I love the kids, I love the things the counselors get to do and I love helping people. This has come as no surprise to me.
I have also learned that I really love and look forward to my internship. It feels like a gift that I get to open when I go to my internship each time. I really love it.
I have learned that even the really, really hard days - the ones where students reveal painful things and are learning painful lessons - even those days are rewarding.
I have learned that even the kids who pretend like they are too cool to have you hug them sometimes love it when you put your arm around their shoulder. Most times, they even lean in their head for a real hug.
And most importantly, what I have learned is some perspective on my own life. As crazy as my life feels right now while I am trying to squeeze in 15 hours of graduate hours and comps into the next four months while teaching two classes at OU, doing my internship three full days a week and being a wife and a mother, is that my life is really pretty easy.
Some of the kids I have come into contact with are facing challenges that have never even come across my radar. I talked to my 8-year-old son about this last night. I wanted him to realize that not everyone has a life like his. I wanted him to know while there are real frustrations about being 8 and being a student and playing sports, that these frustrations are so different than some kids' frustrations.
My boys have a house that is warm when it's cold and cool when it's hot. They always have food to eat and a bed to sleep in. When they think of drugs, they think about Tylenol and antibiotics, not weed and crack. Their weekends are filled with sports and friends and resting and games and birthday parties; Their weekends thankfully do not include violence, loneliness and hunger. Their clothes may not be the fanciest and trendiest, but they are clean and neat and they fit.
Our family has been so blessed with so many gifts, I feel overwhelmed and humbled. Our house is not huge or in the nicest neighborhood, but it is all that we could ever need. Our cars are not the newest or nicest, but they get us where we need to go. We are careful budgeters with little wiggle room, but there is always just enough to pay our bills.
It is clear to me now why God has called me to be a school counselor. First, He wants me to see my many blessings and be thankful. But most importantly, He wants me to shine a light for other kids who do not have as many advantages as I have been given. He wants me to love them and help them and learn from them.
I am thanking God this morning for the lessons He is teaching me as I am in school this semester, and look forward to all that I will learn when I hopefully get a job as a school counselor some day.
I have learned all sorts of interesting things during my internship, including: how to perform a successful lunch duty, the importance of updating bulletin boards, how to handle a lockdown when you are in the middle of teaching a lesson to kindergartners, that unattended food in the break room is fair game, that kids mostly don't care if your door is shut - they try to come in anyway, that while some things have changed since I was a kid the general feeling of angst you get in middle school is still the same, that test monitoring is a pretty basic job, that kids in every grade, in every school and in every classroom need a counselor once in a while, and that counseling students takes a lot of reading between the lines.
My biggest lessons that I have learned so far, however are really not so much about counseling as much as they are about myself. First, my suspicion that I would really love school counseling has been confirmed. I do love it. I love the kids, I love the things the counselors get to do and I love helping people. This has come as no surprise to me.
I have also learned that I really love and look forward to my internship. It feels like a gift that I get to open when I go to my internship each time. I really love it.
I have learned that even the really, really hard days - the ones where students reveal painful things and are learning painful lessons - even those days are rewarding.
I have learned that even the kids who pretend like they are too cool to have you hug them sometimes love it when you put your arm around their shoulder. Most times, they even lean in their head for a real hug.
And most importantly, what I have learned is some perspective on my own life. As crazy as my life feels right now while I am trying to squeeze in 15 hours of graduate hours and comps into the next four months while teaching two classes at OU, doing my internship three full days a week and being a wife and a mother, is that my life is really pretty easy.
Some of the kids I have come into contact with are facing challenges that have never even come across my radar. I talked to my 8-year-old son about this last night. I wanted him to realize that not everyone has a life like his. I wanted him to know while there are real frustrations about being 8 and being a student and playing sports, that these frustrations are so different than some kids' frustrations.
My boys have a house that is warm when it's cold and cool when it's hot. They always have food to eat and a bed to sleep in. When they think of drugs, they think about Tylenol and antibiotics, not weed and crack. Their weekends are filled with sports and friends and resting and games and birthday parties; Their weekends thankfully do not include violence, loneliness and hunger. Their clothes may not be the fanciest and trendiest, but they are clean and neat and they fit.
Our family has been so blessed with so many gifts, I feel overwhelmed and humbled. Our house is not huge or in the nicest neighborhood, but it is all that we could ever need. Our cars are not the newest or nicest, but they get us where we need to go. We are careful budgeters with little wiggle room, but there is always just enough to pay our bills.
It is clear to me now why God has called me to be a school counselor. First, He wants me to see my many blessings and be thankful. But most importantly, He wants me to shine a light for other kids who do not have as many advantages as I have been given. He wants me to love them and help them and learn from them.
I am thanking God this morning for the lessons He is teaching me as I am in school this semester, and look forward to all that I will learn when I hopefully get a job as a school counselor some day.
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