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.

Nobody to God

Sometimes I suck at hiding my emotions. If I'm happy you'll know it. If I'm upset with you, I will probably be short with you. Additionally, I am horrible liar. Even if it's a stupid thing like, "Ms. Bogart have you ever drank a beer?". I can never quite get the words, "Of course not, beer is gross!" to come out of my mouth.  Even still, I will be sure to follow up by telling the kids that I think underage drinking is stupid. Because I do. Then there is this annoying little problem of mine that I like to talk about how I am feeling. Which when I say it's annoying, it's not only annoying to the people I "need" to talk to but annoying to me too. 

Mostly it's annoying because I read beautiful things like this: 

"Please ask Our Lady to give me her heart--- so that I may with greater ease fulfill His desire in me. I want to smile even at Jesus and so hide if possible the pain and the darkness of my soul even from Him." 

Really, Mother Teresa? You don't even want to talk to Jesus? Then I dog-eared the page. 

I continue reading a little more: 

"There is so much contradiction in my soul. ---Such deep longing for God--- so deep that it is painful--- a suffering continual--- and yet not wanted by God--- repulsed--- empty--- no faith--- no love--- no zeal..........................Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything................I am perfectly happy to be nobody even to God." 

Really, Mother Teresa? Nobody to God? What does that even REALLY mean? Then I dog-eared the page. Good thing I don't have a pencil. 

I continue reading: 

"Was is Mother who taught you to say for the profession "I desire to become the Spouse of Jesus Crucified?----- It is not Jesus glorified or Jesus in the crib, but on the Cross--- alone--- naked---bleeding--- suffering--- dying on the cross."

At this point my cat Gizmo is confused and slightly irritated that I keep saying "Mother Teresa!". It may be because she is the "Cat from Hell" or that I am interrupting her nap. We will never know. Then I dog-ear the page. 

Looking back at the past 20 or so pages, almost every single page is dog-eared. The library is not going to like me. This particular chapter that is really driving me crazy is called, "The Thirst of Jesus Crucified" from the book Mother Teresa Come Be My Light. Really it's a good crazy because now I just keep rereading what I have dog-eared and am simply in awe of Mother Teresa and the darkness she endured to bring souls to Christ. 

When Mother Teresa talks about being nobody even to God, it makes my heart ache. Sure there have been times I have felt distant from God. I have felt like God wasn't there or that God wasn't listening to me. But to feel like God has said, "You are nobody to me." The thought is so far over my head. Not to mention she endured this suffering for so long. 

Mother Teresa lived to be more united in Jesus crucified. So naturally the thought popped up, "Did Jesus really feel like nobody to God?" At first I thought, that's silly, of course He didn't feel that way. I mean Jesus is the son of God. Obviously, he felt extreme loneliness and suffered rejection by so many people. But he didn't feel that God had left Him. But then I decided to do a little more digging and read this: 

Matthew 27: 45-46

"From noon onward, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon.46And about three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I have read The Passion so many times but never really picked up on this. Jesus felt me rejecting Him. He felt you rejecting Him. He felt every single person that has lived and will live rejecting Him. He even "felt" his own Father rejecting Him even when God really never abandoned Him. Jesus was sooooooooo human. Even more than I could have ever imagined. Of course, He felt like He was a nobody to God. The key here is that is what Jesus felt even though it really wasn't what was happening. Our dang feelings getting the best of us. 

Mother Teresa recognized her suffering as getting closer to Christ crucified. The more she suffered the closer she became to Christ. And she kept smiling despite feeling so very much apart from her lover. She makes me feel so small. 

What a beautiful example Mother Teresa has given us all. Keep smiling and dog-earring. 

Part 2: The Bishop, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton and Good ol' Father Kapaun

Last Friday, January 4th, was the feast day of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. I was excited for school to end so I could go to Wichita for the 5:30 mass at St. Francis. I went with a past student of mine, so I was also excited to just celebrate mass with a fellow sister in Christ.

We got there kind of early and there seemed to be quite a few other people there too. Like more than usual. And then even more people showed up. It was almost like having a Sunday mass at Holy Name. Then they did the Entrance Antiphon and the priest's voice was a little different than normal, yet very familiar. The voice actually belonged to Bishop Jackels. What a pleasant surprise! No wonder there were so many people here. Anyway, I kept my cool and remained reverent and then got excited about it after mass. haha

Bishop Jackel's homily was short and sweet and worth repeating. He talked about how Wichita reporters that were covering Fr. Kapaun's canonization process where doing interviews on the East Coast. They found themselves in Emmitsburg, Maryland, which is where the National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton is built. They decided to stop in and visit. They then concluded if this lady could be a saint for what she did, SURELY Fr. Kapaun should have been a canonized a saint yesterday. I could relate....I even told you last post I wished I had picked a "cooler" saint. I'm glad I was wrong. :)

Then Bishop explained how that kind of comparison on what they both accomplished isn't really fair. We should instead focus on the why. Why did they do what they did? We should follow their example and strive to do the will of God- in whatever situation we find ourselves in. Whether it be a POW camp, or in a convent, or Ark City, America, or insert your place here. We should answer His call to be holy where we are and in the circumstances He has provided. Amen!

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton pray for us!

Part 1: Saint Searching

A couple of months ago I did a little research on my confirmation saint St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. When I first chose St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, I had done just surface research, mainly what 5 minutes of googling can find, on her and a handful of other saints. I knew she was American born, knew that she valued education and that she converted to Catholicism like me. Plus, the real deal breaker was the "Elizabeth" and the "Ann". They are the middle names of my two little sisters. Yes folks, that is seriously why I chose her.

And then about a year after I chose her I was left thinking, "Why didn't I chose a cooler saint?" And I never really learned much more about her.

I guess in the grand scheme of things asking for intercession from a saint is something I am pretty new at. I pray the rosary often and pray the prayer to St. Michael often but hadn't really tried to ask for any other saint's intercession. However, it really is a beautiful thing about our Catholic faith.

This past year, and in particular the last 6 months, I have been struggling with a few things. Normal things but then also things I think converts deal with. Expect a full post about this in a bit. :) Anyway, I was a little fed up with my faith......and decided I was going to figure it out. I thought, "I need to talk to other people who have converted to the Catholic faith!". One problem- I don't know any......and I really don't. I am not sure how every single Catholic person I know is a cradle Catholic but they are. However, I thought about St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. I remembered she was a convert and just knew I could learn something from her.

Turns out she did struggle with converting just as I do. Dealing with family and close friends who question your faith is hard to deal with. I found letters she had written about her struggles and can't wait to read more about them. I just need to find them in book form because electronic book form is hard for me to read.

Then I found something that made me extremely happy:

It's the Memorare in St. Elizabeth Ann Seton's own handwriting. St. Elizabeth Ann Seton died in 1821, which was only about 200 years ago. The Memorare was made popular in the 17th century from Fr. Claude Bernard, who learned it from his father. However, it is thought to have originated in the 15th century as it is found in a much longer prayer. That longer prayer is all in Latin and therefore I am unable to read anything past the word "remember". Cool thing is that makes the Memorare about 600 years old. I am able to pray a prayer that is 600 years old that my confirmation saint prayed too. Not only that, but we have countless other prayers that are even more rich in tradition, with the Our Father taking the cake. We are blessed indeed. It also makes me wonder what the oldest prayer ever is?

Even though I had only had the prayer memorized since mid-May, and then prayed it during the summer a little, finding that handwritten Memorare made me feel connected to St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. Then in October, a priest told me I should try to pray it three times each morning before I started my day. Then I found a very old, "I cast myself at your sacred feet" version. It just keeps popping up. That must be why it is around 600 years later.

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton pray for us!