On Autographed Books and Being Different

Books are one of God's great inventions- in a roundabout sort of way I suppose. :) You know...God made man, and man thought out words to write down on stone/wood/papyrus pages. Even better still, are those pages inspired by the Holy Spirit. I love books. 

But when a book happens to be autographed, I get pretty darn excited. In fact, autographed books are my favorite things. I have three. One my mom gave me is by, Brian Jacques, one of my favorite authors growing up. I started reading his books in 7th grade because Mrs. Hastings told me I should. From that point forward I would spend a good deal of whatever money I had buying books from the Redwall series at our local "On Cue" bookstore. Then I dated this writer guy my 1st senior year in college. He gave me a copy of his book and signed it. It mostly just makes me laugh now. And finally, perhaps my favorite of all...I got Father Andrew Apostoli to sign my copy of "Fatima for Today" at the Midwest Catholic Family Conference this year. After he signed it he told me, "Go be an apostle for Mary!" Which, I know he probably said that to hundreds of people that day. Regardless, it still made my day. 

Enough about the joys of books. I have been reading in "Fatima for Today", and was caught off guard by something the children Lucia (10 years old), Jacinta (7 years old)  and Francisco (9 years old) did. Here is the excerpt I read as told by Lucia: 

"As we were walking along the road with our sheep, I found a piece of rope that had fallen off a cart. I picked it up and, just for fun, I tied it around my arm. Before long, I noticed that the rope was hurting me, "Look, this hurts!" I said to my cousins: "We could tie it around our waists and offer this sacrifice to God." 

My first thought was, what an odd thing for a child to do. That kind of thinking is not something that you hear many Catholics ponder nowadays, let alone a 10 year old kid. In fact, after reading this part of the book I am convinced I really have no idea what "doing penance" is all about. These saintly children would rather offer up their bodily pain, their life even, rather than have another soul go to Hell and cause our Lord sorrow. The children even wore these ropes to bed and caused much more pain to them. Jacinta, the youngest, suffered greatly and would be close to tears often because she wore her rope so tightly. These children only stopped this act of penance when the Blessed Mother specifically asked them not to in the last Fatima Apparition. 

Although different ways to do penance would make an interesting blog post, that is not why I mention the story. I thought of the three children again today as I was walking up the steps to Sacred Heart having this conversation in my head..."Why am I going here every morning to pray? I could just pray at school? You have a lot to do. Just pray later. Don't you think that's weird you are coming here? Man, I hope I don't run into the teachers again or anyone that will make things awkward. I wonder what Father thinks when he sees me here. Maybe I should talk to him sometime." It's funny actually. I am often times uncomfortable in faith,  and uncomfortable in developing a stronger prayer life. Mostly because I think I shouldn't be praying as much as I do or want to pray because it is different and counter-cultural. Many people I know would think my time spent in prayer a big waste of time. All the while we have children tying ropes around their waists in love for Jesus. 

You might having something that is making you uncomfortable right now. God is asking something of you that seems weird. You might even think weird to your brothers and sisters in Christ. How can you respond to His love in the spirit of those three little children? Be different. 

Another great book, "The Screwtape Letters",  by C.S. Lewis, has a couple of relevant quotes that I'll leave you with: 

"It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.” 

“All is summed up in the prayer which a young female human is said to have uttered recently: "O God, make me a normal twentieth-century girl!" Thanks to our labors, this will mean increasingly: "Make me a minx, a moron, and a parasite.”  (I hope this one made you smile) 

And lastly, when you're feeling particularly uncomfortable: 

"...when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever." 

Now if I could only get my hands on a signed C.S. Lewis book.

Letting Go

I've never been all that great at letting things go. Too add to this, I don't trust easily. At least not in the things that matter.

Some of you will think this odd, but I remember one of my English teachers in high school saying, "High school is nothing compared to college. You just wait...it gets so much better." And I thought, "What? What do you mean? You are crazy? I love high school!"And the funny thing was, I did love high school. I had supportive parents. I was actively engaged in many school activities. I had some teachers that were really good at their jobs. I had a solid group of true friends. I just couldn't believe that life could get any better.

But it did. I loved college even more than high school.

At the end of college, right before student teaching, I went to China. Two of the girls I was traveling with weren't coming back to the United States at the end of our teaching stint. It is crazy to think how close I was to NOT coming back home. I wanted to postpone teaching. I loved traveling and I loved China and I loved being with those friends. I was nervous and scared of student teaching in little ol' Cherryvale, Kansas. I just couldn't believe that life could get any better.

But it did. I was blessed with a whole other family in Cherryvale.

When my student teaching was finished, it was in the month December, so not really a prime job-hunting time for a teacher. However, I was content with just subbing in Cherryvale for a semester. I was actually pumped to get to live there another 6 months. However, a job in Oxford opened up and I found myself almost back home...really too close to home. I didn't really want to leave Cherryvale. I just couldn't believe that life could get any better.

But it did. Oxford was a great school for me. In fact, it led me back to home school and a whole new set of adventures. God has been so good to me.

If your catching on to the pattern here you are probably thinking...oh she's is leaving teaching and she is scared to leave. It's true, I have thought and prayed a lot about not being an ag teacher anymore. I have told God so many times that I wanted to quit. I am never happy with His answer. Mostly because I used to drive home from school every single day energized and being so excited to go back the next day. I almost hated the weekends when I didn't see my students. Only once in a blue moon do I feel that way anymore.

God is asking me to let go of those first few years of teaching. But not because they aren't good. They truly are good and so, so beautiful. But because He wants to give me something better or different. AND I know that He is asking me to give something better.

It's beyond the scope of teaching too. God is asking me to let go of so many things and people and ideas and dreams. I probably would have never converted if the things I know now I would have known then. I would have said, "Sorry God, that is just too much." As it is now I still tell Him, "I know what you want me to do. But I can't. You are going to have to help me. Please be patient with me." And even in those times when I feel defeated and when I tell God that I can't, I still know that He is pouring His grace and love on me. Especially when I don't want Him to.

It is definitely hard for me to think things could really be better than they were. I am full of doubts. I don't understand. I am scared. I miss my old friends. But I am learning to trust. I know that God loves me more than I can imagine. He has so many good things to give to me. Why am I reluctant to let old things and people go and except His gifts? Why am I reluctant to let God love me?

Why are you reluctant to let God love you? Remember God is like my "crazy" English teacher.... and eternal life really will be so unbelievably good!

Sowing Seeds

Today at mass I was reminded of the people who have sown seeds in my life. My Aunt Karen, on my Dad's side, who I remember giving me my first Bible, watching her as she and her friends had Bible studies at my Nannie's house, listening to Christian music in her car, and her taking me to VBS in the summer. My best friend from high school inviting me to church. Me going to youth group and church with her my Junior and Senior years of high school. Going to Christmas Eve service with my Nannie every so often. Talking about how to pray with one of my FFA advisors when I was in high school. My student that led me to my baptism and the most beautiful faith on the planet. 

My niece and my two nephews are little pieces of heaven on earth. I could be having the worst day possible, in the middle of fighting heavy-duty spiritual battles, sadden by the loss of a loved one, or just plain grumpy, but after spending five minutes with them, my soul feels lighter. It is so easy to see God in them and other little children. Being an aunt has been one of my favorite roles in life by far.

The past couple of times I have seen the kids, Brynley has asked me questions about my rosary. I would answer her questions, let her look at it, and hold my rosary. She then asked me, "Will you make me one?". And if you know me at all, I was super excited that she asked me! 

After acquiring some multi-colored "kid" string from a friend, making her rosary and praying with her rosary, it was time to give Bryn her rosary. I had originally written a letter to her because she reads a ton and I thought she'd like getting a letter from me. However, I forgot the letter at home. But it turns out I didn't need the letter. I was taking Bryn back to Ark City with me to my spend the weekend with my Mom and thought we just make a quick pit stop at St. Francis..... and Hobby Lobby. My sister Kami, already knew I made her a rosary and thought it was fine to stop in at the church. 

On the way to St. Francis, she asked me two questions: "Have you made my bracelet thingee yet? And what do we have to do at the church?" :) 

Brynley ate it up. It was so much better than the time I took her to mass. I can't describe how it felt to kneel right beside her. Then we sat back and talked. We talked about Jesus in the tabernacle. "How does Jesus fit in such a small box?!" She asked me if she had to close her eyes to pray. We talked about how praying was just talking to God. We talked about how we should thank Jesus for good things in our life, how we should tell Him that we love Him, and that if we were worried about things we could tell Him about that too. 

Then I surprised her with her rosary and my Guardian Angel prayer card. I told her the rosary I made for her was more than just a bracelet. That when she saw it that it could remind her to talk to God. And then I told her she had a guardian angel and that I didn't find out I had a guardian angel until I was 27. She laughed when I told her how excited I was to find out I had an angel that protected me and went with me everywhere. I explained how there was a prayer we could say to our guardian angel and that I had just learned this prayer a couple weeks ago. By the way, teaching her the Guardian Angel prayer was not my idea, but a friends, and she loved asking me questions about her angel. Is my angel a boy or a girl? Can I talk to her? What does she look like? How tall is she? Will she help me when I get scared down in the dark basement? Not to mention, she memorized that prayer in 10-15 minutes max on the way to Grandmas house. People, she memorized that sucker faster than me!

The point of taking Brynley to the church, praying with her, and giving her a rosary was NOT to convert her to Catholicism. Even though she did want to learn how to do the sign of the cross with holy water. :)  It was simply to plant a seed. She may grow up thinking of me as her overly religious aunt, like I did my Aunt Karen. However, it blows my mind to see how close a little child is to God already. They KNOW Him. This was very apparent to me today. I know she'll grow older and lose that innocence. I just hope that someday she falls in love with Jesus. God is unbelievably great! 

A Tale of Two Convos

Sometimes when you're not doing a great job with communicating with God, He just tells you. Very bluntly what you need to know. I sure did get His message today.

At the middle school today one of my students threw me for a loop. She was the first one to class, before the bell even rang. It was odd for her to be waiting at my door. She says, "Will you send me upstairs?" Which "upstairs" means CSR, and honestly I don't know what CSR stands for, but it does mean the kid is in trouble. I thought, okay this is a weird request. And then goes our conversation:

"Why do you want to go upstairs? You mean CSR?"

"Yes. I am a bad kid." 

"No you're not." (Which is true. Great grades. Respectful. Quiet. Wait.. do I ever really talk to this kid? Like really?) 

"I am a bad kid." 

"Why are you a bad kid?" 

"They told me I was a bad kid." 

"Who? I don't think you are a bad kid. You are a great student in my class. Why do you think you are a bad kid?" 

"I'm not popular. I don't wear the right clothes. I don't have any friends. The only friend I have is the devil. I hate God. God took my mom away from me. I have already chosen my path and I am going to Hell. I am not going to Heaven with the rest of my family." 

Ahhhhh how I wish there was a pause button on life at times. Because what do you say when a 14 year old girl says this to you? What do you say when she tells you to make something bad up that she did so that she can leave the class? What do you say when she tells you that she is ugly and that nobody loves her? That she hates God? 

I don't know most of what I told her. But we talked and she calmed down and she was fine for class. She's been in my head all day. Sam has been in my head all day. I have never truly felt a student's pain so clearly until I was face to face with her, telling her she was beautiful. I was about to lose it and she didn't even know it. I just don't get it. Any of it. I don't understand anything she has gone through. I don't understand why she even told me. It came out of left field. 

You know what else comes out of left field? Flat tires. Flat tires are never fun. And that is exactly what I had to deal with after school today. Slightly irritated, I aired up my completely flat tire enough to run it across town to Becker Tire.

Once at Becker Tire, things got interesting. I grabbed a pop and took it over to the waiting area. The waiting area had one old lady with a walker in it. This old lady was sleeping. Actually, she was fake sleeping because as soon as I crack open my can of pop she is talking to me. Which always happens to me. Thank you, God. 

"What kind of phone do you have there?" 

Because of course what teenager/ young adult isn't on their phone always?

After we got through the 5 minute conversation about phones, I found out her name is Kay. She started talking about her grandson Logan, an 8th grader, who just moved here from Lawrence. She talked a lot about Logan and his Dad in Lawrence. I mentioned briefly that I was a teacher, because she mention Logan thought student's were more respectful here in Ark City as opposed to Lawrence or Wichita. Good news people! :)

By this point I have completely given up on my quiet waiting room time and have put my phone completely away. I surrender, God. 

Then she asks what I teach? After I tell her agriculture, she starts telling me all these stories about her "home ec" teacher and her time as a FHA (Future Homemakers of America) member. She was the Secretary of her chapter in Argonia and got her state degree. In fact, she was only the second girl from her school that earned her state degree.

Then she told me the story about going to Topeka to be awarded the degree. She talked about walking on stage to shake hands in front of hundreds of people. She said, "I was just this country bumpkin that would get my ass kicked if I looked crossed eyed at home. I was so nervous." 

She then talked about her abusive mother. She told me the role her FHA advisor took in helping her in life. She told me her teacher didn't even really say a lot but that she sure did help her. She gave her flowers after she earned her state degree. She told me about her personal decision that she was going to either end her life at her own hands or get the hell out of her house. Which she obviously did the latter. She told me she had a ulterior motive to all of that....she wanted to live! Later, in life she ended up having to be her mother's caretaker and she eventually forgave her. 

It was quite an amazing story. It amazed me that God had placed the sleeping old lady, named Kay, in my waiting room. It was like she was there just to bug me and tell me stories. It was literally blowing my mind because her situations and stories were so divinely crafted to speak to the situations I was dealing with. And she didn't even know it. All she knew about   me is that I had an iPhone and taught Ag. 

When she was leaving she told me this word for word:

"What I am trying to tell you is that sometimes you are helping kids more than you know." 

"Thank you for telling me that."

"Thank you for listening."

The Courage to be a Teacher

Maybe the novelty will wear off someday but I sure hope not. 

I spent my Saturday slowly and purposefully getting ready to go to the Easter Vigil Mass. It's impossible to not think about the events of that day two years earlier and how I felt leading up to my baptism and entrance into the Catholic church. All day long it was if time had stopped and I was left in awe of God. Mainly in awe of His goodness, the people He has brought into my life and how He continues to woo me to draw me closer to Him. I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet. 

Sadly this post is not about the Vigil. An hour before the Vigil I found out Sam had died. We think he took his own life. I went to mass, then went and got ice cream with a friend I had promised earlier, and then found myself just sitting in my car. I was holding my rosary, trying to pray, but thinking about how I just wanted to bop Sam in the head. Then hug him. 

Sam wasn't even my own student. More like an adopted student because of how often I saw him at FFA events, working closely with his FFA chapter, and serving as district advisor when he was a district officer with three of my kids. Sam was that Winfield kid that would always talk to me, always have some joke or story, or weird noise to tell/show me. He was lighthearted and loved FFA. He truly appreciated how his ag teacher had helped turn his life around when he was a wee lil 8th grader and turned him from a student that got in trouble with all his teachers to one that was respectful and knowledgeable about ag. Heck he even had a speech with this story in it that I must have heard a hundred times! He would randomly bust out a set of reasons, most of the time not even about livestock. I can remember how he debated in par law. He didn't get mad at me when I ordered his district officer shirt with his last name misspelled. He just wore it anyway. He was a handful to get focused on workshop stuff but looked awesome in a Dr. Seuss hat. He played guitar. He was there at the dreaded Casey's gas station incident that I am not allowed to talk about. I could talk to Sam about God. Sam was a great friend to my kids. I am blessed to know Sam.

He was troubled the past year or so but was trying to earn trust back. He was working on mending relationships. The last time I met up with Sam was in December when he and I went to get ice cream. He was humbled and he was hopeful. We parted with a hug. I have text him a few times since. But when I found out the news of his death, it had been over two months since I had heard from him. 

Now I know it's not really fair to think like that. It not's fair to think that things would be different if I would have just texted him to see how his day was going. In fact, I do that with pretty much everyone I know. I think about them, wonder how they are, what new thing they might be up to, and then fail to follow up with a simple text. 

Sam's death makes me think about kids I see everyday. How I want to do so much for them but it seems like it is never enough. 

My kids fight battles that are so far over my head. One of my kids got into a fight with his Dad, screaming inches from his face, and ended up getting kicked out of the house. Another kid doesn't have a key to her own house because of her stepfather. She has to sneak around to go to church.  She played me a Matthew West song the other day. I have a kid that deals with an alcoholic father. I have a kid that doesn't have a mother that is very present at all and is raised by her Dad. And whenever she tells me about her Dad's girlfriend, I wish I could have a sit down with the lady and tell her how special this kid is. I want to tell her that she better treat her right because I love her. Or the kid that would lose his top with me and sometimes me with him. We'd talk later when he was settled down and he was so broken it hurt me. I didn't know what to do. Yet another kid was sleeping in class and when I talked to him, he told me he wasn't allowed to sleep the past week because he had to help his family move and they could only do it at night. Or the young lady that often wants to stay in my room over lunch because she doesn't have money. Countless kids take care of their brother and sisters while their parents go out to party. Countless kids have their paychecks taken my parents. For what? Cigarettes and fines. Countless kids are getting high and getting drunk and having sex. 

Some of these stories are from kids I know very well but then there are some that I barely know. They talk so freely and openly to me. They are crying out for help even as they are being flaky, disrespectful, angry or frustrating to me. They don't know how to deal with these situations any better than I do. 

Sometimes I give up. I get fed up. I wash my hands clean of the kids. 

A friend sent me this when I found out about Sam: 

"i haven't been at this very long but the bond that is built between us and them is stronger than any of us ever really realizes. i believe that's why i get so upset with them and their parents when they don't realize what we'd do for them. it's one of those things that in all reality i would like to just run from it to keep from getting hurt but i can't...i'm too stubborn to let myself do that"

It takes courage to be a teacher and to still put your neck out there. We do get hurt... a lot. We give so much. Sometimes you pour everything you are, what seems like your whole life, into these kids just to get hurt. I pray that God continues to give me the grace and strength I need to help keep giving, and for the courage to help them with their battles.

Back to the Vigil. It was extremely holy, moving and beautiful. God truly is so good. Also, one of my confirmation boys and his Dad ended up sitting by me. This boy and I tend to butt heads and I think he is a little turd most of the time. However, during the sign of peace I reached out my hand and told him, "peace be with you." He did that same. I am sure that has been the nicest thing we have said to each other. It clicked. And I truly want that for him. I want all my kids to know that peace. 

Lastly, I leave you with a bit of the Colossians reading from Easter Sunday. Because it gives me hope. 

"Seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Think of what is above, not of what is on earth." 

May Sam's soul rest in peace!

My "Easy" Lenten Promise

There are a few thing things that I am doing/sacrificing in observance of Lent and I can say that I have officially ruined them all. That being said, I am glad there are still two weeks left!

What I had initially thought to be my easiest Lenten practice has actually turned into one of the most difficult. What is this easy thing you might be asking? 

Praying before meals. Afterall, this is something that I do anyway but usually filter depending on who I am with. Catholic friends? Yay let's all pray! My sisters? I'll pray when you leave the room! My coworkers? I'll pray in the kitchen and then come eat with you! My other friends? Let's eat!

Here's the story of my first mishap. About a month ago we were cooking breakfast for all the teachers in my high school in celebration of National FFA Week. It couldn't have been much more than a week into Lent. And actually I was pretty happy that this breakfast deal didn't end up on Ash Wednesday like last year. :) 

We had been cooking all morning and we had almost finished cleaning up. However, it was after 10 AM and therefore 2nd hour, which means I had kids in my other room. I grabbed a plate of food and took it to my other room. When I got to my room, I got my kids busy and took roll. I was getting ready to eat when I realized I hadn't prayed yet. Hmmm, crap. The logical thing would be to just pray and get over myself. Nope. I picked up my food went to the other attaching room and prayed. Then I came back in my class and ate my food. Yes, a work in progress. 

For as many moments I have had similar to that, I have had moments where I have prayed in front of my students, sisters and random people I don't know. And it's not a big deal at all. 

My reasoning behind this visibly praying before meals thing wasn't so I would seem holy to those who see me pray. It is because I know I filter too much. I don't like changing what I do based on who I am around. This is a small step for me to be more comfortable with who I am. I don't want to be Catholic only when I am around fellow Catholics. I don't want to be Christian only when I am around other Christians. Even if that means I have to be different. 

"Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect." Romans 12:2

School Happies

It's the little unexpected events and conversations that make me smile. Here are two such things that have happened at school.

First, I was talking to one of my FFA officers about books. He reads like a madman and sometimes we have similar taste in books. Anyway, he was telling me about a book I should read in the young adult spectrum. Then he asks what I'm reading currently.

"Oh, just a book about Mother Teresa. It's really, really, really, really good."

"I know about her- she did a lot of good things with the poor. She's that really old biblical lady, right?"

"No, she's not in the Bible. She died in 1997." 

"She's like one of us?! That's so cool!" 

I had to smile at the phrase, "She's like one of us." It was just an awesome reminder to me how we should all be striving for sainthood and how it IS possible to imitate Christ even in today's world.

Secondly, I got a new group of kids at the middle school this week. Which is oh so refreshing. Last semester, my middle school were my least favorite class I have ever taught in the history of five years. And yes I will take 85% of the blame. :) So new start = God is good.

In my new middle school class I have a come across a first. I have a student who is a selective mute. She came into class late the first day. We had already started but I introduced myself to her when she walked. I asked her what her name was and she just showed me her paper which had her name on it. It is kind of an unique name that I had never seen before. I pronounced it and asked if that was right. She nodded her head. Then about five minutes into class I noticed she had a small whiteboard and used it to communicate with.

Then later we did this brainstorming activity with a dot. The students were trying to come up with as many things that the dot could be besides a dot. But we ran out of time so I collected all the papers from the groups. Her group's caught my eye and I said, "Oh fruity pebbles, I have never heard that one before!" And the girl with the whiteboard just starts laughing......and smiling.

It was kind of cool to see and I am looking forward to understanding this girl more!

God is good.