Author: Kristin

I find that I think best when I write. If you choose to follow me, you will get a first-hand look at my thoughts as I contemplate life as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, writer, teacher, and follower of Jesus. Issues that seem to recur revolve around parenting, education, equity, chronic illness, and teaching.

Yay, Team!

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Just ten hours from now I will have completed my training to be a clinician at Lindamood-Bell.  Eighty hours of training. I am tired, a bit bleary-eyed, and yet I feel energized.

Not only have I joined a very positive team of young people who are totally committed to student success, but I have already gained some tools to join them in that quest — teaching reading and comprehension to students who may have begun to believe that they will never be successful in school.

I know I’ve already gushed about this place and its positivity but, guys, it is so positive that I just can’t help but feel good about going to work — even on Friday — even when I know I won’t be getting home until after 7:00pm — even when I’m exhausted.

Here are some reasons why:

  • as I was walking into work yesterday a little 6-year-old boy I had met the day before saw me, smiled, waved, and said, “hi!”
  • when I entered the office my trainer announced, “I brought us some doughnuts!”
  • two minutes later my teammate arrived carrying a jug of Starbucks mocha to share.
  • right about then, a former employee who is rejoining the summer force walked in to hugs and smiles.
  • in the middle of our training, a staff member knocked on our door so that a shy, beaming student could say hello to the returning staff member.
  • throughout the day our supervisor peeked into our training to cheer us on.
  • When I forgot to punch out for lunch, my teammate texted me before I even got to the stairs to remind me
  • In the last fifteen minutes of our day, during role-playing, my ‘student’ made an error — if you have read my earlier posts, you know that I am supposed to praise the parts she got right and help her discover her own mistake.  Well, it was 6:20pm (well past my typical pajama time).  She spelled a word in the air with her finger and added an extra letter.  I put my hand up, “erased” what she had written saying “No, no, no, no, no!” (My former students are shaking their heads.) But here’s the part that I love.  My fellow trainees burst out in laughter.  They didn’t judge me for using the forbidden “n” word.  They didn’t shake their fingers and say, “Kristin, you know you are supposed to praise these students.”  They just laughed and laughed.  So I laughed. And then choked.  And then struggled, while choking, to correct myself.  That’s the spirit of this place — it is pure positivity.
  • As we were packing up our supplies and grabbing our coats, one of my co-workers suggested we go out for lunch during our break today, just like we did last Friday.  You know, just us girls who have been training together for two weeks.
  • Then I discovered, along with my fellow newbie, that one of our coworkers had nominated us for an award. It’s just common practice to point out the positive things you see your coworkers doing.  You write it down on a card, the card goes in a box, and once a month a card gets drawn for a prize.  In the two weeks we have been on the job, we have had our names put in the box about a half dozen times!

I guess I am mostly surprised by the simplicity of it all.  The company stresses positivity  — insists on it.  And, as far as I can tell, they have 100% buy-in.  All day long the staff cheer on each other — “great job!” “I like the way you handled that!” “Thanks for helping out with the dishes!” “You brought me candy? You’re sweet!” — and these cheers spill over onto the kids — “Wow! You spelled ten words correctly!” “You read that whole book? You’re amazing!” “Let’s go show the others how fast you can read these sight words!”

It’s critical. It’s non-negotiable.  These kids, the same ones who have failed over and over in school, are coming to do hard work — some of them for four hours a day, five days a week!  They need some cheering.  You know, the kind of cheering that lines the streets, yelling at the top of its lungs, throwing confetti, and shooting off fireworks.

And that’s what I get to do — cheer, yell, throw confetti, watch fireworks, and see kids succeed. Bam.

Psalm 96:11

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound and all that is in it.

The Power of Words

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

This morning I am a little overwhelmed by the power of words.  Simple arrangements of consonants and vowels that together form sound and meaning.  You would think I would love words; I am an English teacher.  I have spent countless hours of my life reading and writing words.  I do love them.  They not only help me communicate with others, express my inner self, and earn a living — they are so much fun!  You may be aware of my embarrassing Words With Friends habit, or the fact that I love to complete a crossword in one sitting, or that I am abnormally amused by wordplay such as puns, innuendo, and hyperbole. One of my greatest joys as a teacher is playing with words to teach students about their own language and how they use it — how do you think I learned how to code switch?

However, even though I love words — they overwhelm me.  How can these simple clusters of sounds have such power?

I watched a video on Friday during my training that interviewed a young boy who was painfully aware of the power of words.  Because of his learning difficulties, he was placed in a special education classroom.  In that room he got the resources he needed; outside of that classroom he was assailed with damaging words: “Hey, retard!” “You’re so weird!”  “You’re dumb!”

On Saturday I learned about a young man who was verbally attacked in his graduate program.  His classmates quietly uttered sexual taunts.  They never touched him — but their words forced him out of the program.

We’ve all heard these stories.  Persecutors attacking victims with their words.

But, guys, my words are powerful, too!  If you’ve met me in person you know that I use a lot of words.  A quick google search will tell you that the average woman uses 13,000-20,000 words per day.  I am sure I do. I love to talk. Over the years I have tried to learn a little restraint and give others an opportunity to share the air space.  I may have made a little progress, but I doubt it.  I can talk.

Quantity is not really the problem though, is it? No. It’s word choice.  It’s what we say. That’s part one.  Part two is the meaning that others attach to what we say.  That means that before I speak I should consider what I mean and then consider my audience — what will they hear. That’s a lot of pressure.  I mean, how am I supposed to fit in my 13,000-20,000 words each day if I pause each time I think about opening my mouth. Exactly.

On Saturday evening, after we met with dear friends for dinner, I was lying in bed thinking about some of the words I used.  One phrase stuck out in my mind.  I was thinking to myself, “I know what I meant by that, but I should have added one more sentence to clarify. They may have totally misunderstood my meaning.” Been there?

If I had a dollar for every time I had to rewind the tape of my words to insert an explanation…

It’s no coincidence that at this time in my life I have taken a job where my words are so important.  I, at 49 years of age, still need to learn this lesson — my words are powerful.  The students I will meet, starting this Wednesday, have been beaten and bruised by words.  I may never know how much.  They have been mocked at school, questioned by their teachers, evaluated by their parents, and berated by themselves.  They are bloody. My words must be salve.

When a student reads “bind” for “kind”, I will say, “Great job with that “d” sound at the end of the word! When you say ‘bind’ what do you picture for the first letter?”  When she says “b”, I will say, “awesome!” I will celebrate each correct consonant and each correct vowel.  I will applaud every remembered detail. I will try to help my students recover from the trauma of being assailed by and excluded from the world of words.

And, boys and girls, how do you picture that God would want me to carry this lesson — that my words must be salve — into the rest of my life? Do you picture me telling my husband that I appreciate him going to work every day? Do you picture me thanking my daughter for running the dishwasher or for cooking a fabulous dinner? Can you imagine me reassuring a friend or comforting a loved one — all with my words? That is what I picture.  I picture my words as a healing balm that can cover a stinging wound.  I picture them as gauze that will stop the bleeding and allow some time for healing.

And really, the only way I know to make that happen — to make sure that kindness comes out of mouth — is to do a heart check — a continual, day-by-day heart check.  I know that if I am angry, angry words are going to come out of my mouth.  If I am hurt, defensive jabs are going to burst forth. “…for out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:45)  In fact, if we are hurting on the inside and we try to say things that are nice, or calming, or comforting, our listeners can often sense that our words are not genuine.  They may hear us and think to themselves, “what a fake!”

Do you see why I am so overwhelmed? How can I take all this into account?  How can I continually check my heart, consider my listeners, and evaluate my message?

I only have one answer — by the grace of God.  And that is how I am going to step into today.  I am going to ask God to purify my heart, filter my message, and when all else fails, cover the ears of my listeners.  Forty-nine years have taught me I can’t do this on my own.

Proverbs 16:24

Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to soul and healing to the bones.

More Life Lessons – Celebrate

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I’m three days into my training to be a clinician at Lindamood-Bell and let me tell you, this English teacher is learning about language. It’s linguistics, really — the rules of the English language and how you teach them to struggling readers.  On Monday I held up vowel flash cards for my partner who was making the phonemic sounds and then took my turn doing the same.  We learned about consonants, vowels, diphthongs, and the beloved schwa. Now I know that way back in the eighties I sat in class with Professor Campbell and learned all the basic rules of linguistics.  In fact, during my master’s work, I had two classes in linguistics with Dr. Stalker where we did all this and more — studying the rules of sentence construction and the ways that different people groups vary from the norm.  But somehow knowing that these rules, when taught to a struggling reader, might unlock the door to decoding and then to comprehension, makes it all just a little more meaningful.

I believe it was my fourth grade teacher who clapped out the syllables for me.  “My name is Kris/tin.  I have two syllables in my name.”  I have used that strategy with poetry students when I teach them meter, but I have never considered the fact that each syllable has a vowel or that the arrangement of consonants and vowels — whether a syllable is ‘open’ or ‘closed’ has an impact on the way that we pronounce the sound of the vowel. I’ve never had to!  Reading and language have always come easily to me.  I must have thousands of sight words.  I very rarely have to sound a word out or look it up in a dictionary.  I don’t have to think about how to decode; it’s natural for me.

But it isn’t natural for the students I will be working with.  Some of them are years behind in school.  We’ve looked at case after case over the last few days — many of these students are very bright, they just have never had success with reading.  Some of them have already been through several other reading interventions, both in and out of school.  They, and their parents, have had enough.  They are ready to give up.  They are almost ready to admit that they will never know how to read and comprehend. In my imagination they come dragging into our office, believing that their worst fears are going to be confirmed.  They are beaten down, exhausted, and hopeless.  I would be, too!

So for the last three days I have not only learned about language — phonology and orthography. I have also learned how to be a cheerleader. From the moment that a family enters the door, the focus is on success and celebration.  Even the FOUR HOURS of testing is designed to be fun.  From the room where I was training yesterday I could hear a student and a teacher in the next room laughing and celebrating — during a battery of tests!!  The students are celebrated for showing up, for trying — even when they get it wrong, for hanging in there, and eventually, for reading!

My fellow trainee and I have even been celebrated.  We are training via teleconference.  When we are brave enough to un-mute our microphone and speak up in the conference, we get a prize — candy or a little toy to use in our tutoring.  When we practice with one another we give positive reinforcement with every response, even when it is followed with a correction.  We use words like great job, fantastic, amazing, you got it! Not once have I heard a trainer say no, but, not exactly, or not quite. The focus is on celebrating what the student did get right and guiding him to see what he needs to correct.  It’s pure genius.

It’s also a life lesson for me.  I have been pretty critical of myself and others over the years.  I have focused on my flaws — my errors– instead of celebrating my strengths and successes.  I’m pretty sure I have done this for the others in my life as well.  I’ve probably told you more than I should what I think you are doing wrong instead of what I notice you are doing well.  I’m sorry about that.

So today, let’s focus on the strengths.  I am excited about another opportunity to learn!  I have a very supportive husband and family!  I have a forgiving, redeeming God who daily says to me, “I see your strengths. I gave them to you. I love you.”

Psalm 139:14

[We] praise you because [we are] fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful, [we] know that full well.

I’m wide awake!

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Today’s episode is brought to you by insomnia.  Additional funding is provided by autoimmune disease.

Sigh.

I do not have chronic insomnia.  I just can’t sleep sometimes.  I remember once when I was a little girl, probably only 11 or 12 years old, I was at summer camp and I couldn’t sleep.  I woke up my counselor (thoughtful, I know) and told her I couldn’t sleep.  She said, “That’s ok, just lie still so that your body can rest.”  I remember being frustrated as I “tried to rest” for what seemed like hours.  Since then, I occasionally am awake in the middle of the night.  Sometimes it’s because I have something on my mind.  On a few rare and blessed occasions I have been almost propelled out of bed by the need to write.  That’s exciting!  I wake up out of a sound sleep with an idea and I can’t seem to get to the keyboard fast enough. In those moments I have written lyrics, letters to my children, poetry, and yes, even blogs.

Tonight is not one of those nights.  Tonight I did wake up out of a sound sleep, but not with an intense desire to write.  Actually, I had an intense desire to go back to sleep.  It was 1:45am when I first looked at the clock.  Now it is 3:45.  I really did try to “just lie still so that my body could rest.”  I tried that for the first hour.  Then I got up and had a snack.  That sometimes helps.  My kids like to tell the story that when they were growing up they could always tell if I’d been up in the night because there would be a box of graham crackers sitting on the kitchen counter.  Graham crackers are magical sleep medicine — it’s true.  Since I’ve been gluten-free, I’ve had to resort to other snacks.  Tonight I actually toasted a gluten-free waffle.  I ate it, read some Facebook posts and went back to bed.  Again, I tried to “just lie still,” to no avail.

I finally said, “God, is there something you want to talk to me about?”  I was still for several minutes.  Cricket, cricket. “Ok, well, let me know if you change your mind.”

This wouldn’t have been a big deal a week ago.  If I was up in the middle of the night any time in the last eight months, I would just sleep late the next day.  No big deal.  But, guys, I am now a working girl!  The past two days I have had eight hours of training each day.  Both days I came home, put on pajamas, ate dinner, watched TV and went to bed — exhausted!  So what am I doing up in the middle of the night!? I have no explanation.

But now that I am awake, my pain is keeping me from going back to sleep.  Since the weekend I have been having what I call a ‘flare’.  It is mild. Some flares have put me in bed for a few days.  This one is not to that level.  Those around me can’t even really tell that my symptoms have escalated.  As with most autoimmune diseases, my symptoms are mostly invisible to others.  I have psoriasis — but not in places that you can see.  I have eye irritation — but even eye doctors say that my eyes look fine.  I have joint pain — but xrays reveal no inflammation or damage.  I have the sensation throughout my body that I have been dipped in IcyHot.  Finally, I have fatigue.

But I can’t sleep.

Sigh.

I think I’ll go try again.  I will lie down, say a prayer, close my eyes and wait for sleep.  If it comes, I will rejoice.  If it doesn’t, I will grab a book and read for a while.  I know that eventually I will sleep.

Psalm 127:2

…He grants sleep to those He loves.

The Tough Cookie Crumbles

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

In my former job, I was often called upon to mete out justice — all teachers are.  It falls upon all school staff to make sure that students follow the rules: wear the uniform appropriately, keep your hands to yourselves, respect others, abide by the honor code, etc. Any of my students would tell you that if I saw a shirt untucked, I would address it.  If a student was eating in the hallway, I would take their food and throw it in the trash.  If two students began a verbal exchange that threatened to escalate, I was quick to march them to the office to see the Dean of Students.  I was on it. I often joked that I actually worked for the FBI, teaching was merely my cover.

Perhaps the fact that I owned that responsibility so tightly contributed to my soldiering.  While teaching in the high school, I could quickly “put on” my Michelle Pfeiffer Dangerous Minds persona if I needed to “kick some butts and take some names”.  Tough times call for tough personas.  Truth is, that persona often clung to me a little longer than necessary.   I was in the business of “getting it done” for many years.  I was a tough cookie. As with anything else in life — being a tough cookie has its pros and cons.

Tough cookies don’t have a lot of time to be sensitive to the needs of others, but they can hold it together under extreme pressure.

Tough cookies don’t let their guard down very often, so they are often first to see when something isn’t quite right.

Tough cookies demand respect and often get it, but at what price?

Tough cookies are difficult to enjoy — they have to be dunked and dunked and dunked before they soften up enough to make them palatable.

Did I go too far?  Probably.

Here’s the thing…the past 2.5 years of dealing with health issues have put Michelle Pfeiffer on the shelf, probably permanently.  I don’t have enough energy for all that bravado.

The good news is that I am no longer in a position where I have to scrutinize the behavior of others.  I am no longer required to mete out justice.  I am now in a position where I can offer grace — a second chance.

Ahhhh…..

Let’s look at all the places that God has provided for me to offer grace:

  • I’m a new grandmother — guys, all I have for that little girl is love and grace.
  • My new job is working with students who have failed and failed and failed.  They think they will never read and never be successful in school.  The strategies I am learning can and often do,  in a matter of weeks, result in improved reading and comprehension scores — often multiple grade levels! I get to watch kids get another chance at success!
  • I am the only mother living on a college campus — I have already had a few opportunities to walk students through decisions or to provide resources with no strings attached.
  • In all of the roles I’m in right now (including my new job) I am easily twenty years older than everyone else.  I am praying that the wisdom of those years will transform into grace in all my interchanges.

Dear Michelle Pfeiffer,

It’s been a good run.  I’ve appreciated borrowing your leather jacket; you can have it back now. This tough cookie has begun to crumble, I think I’ll be buying a few cardigans.

John 1:17

Now the law was given through Moses;

grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

January 5th-ish

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

Today is the day!  In less than two hours I will clock in at my new job!  I am excited, and nervous!  I’ve probably felt this way every time I have started a new job — and I’ve had plenty of them!  I’ve worked everywhere from a dress shop to McDonald’s to summer camp to pubic schools to day care centers to residential facilities.  I like to work. I also like change.  So, why am I nervous?  I have been thinking it’s because I don’t know how my body will handle the demands of consistent work after eight months or so of concentrating on improving my health.  But I got up this morning, had the parade of beverages, read my devotion and realized that this is an opportunity I haven’t had in a while. Now I’m a little more nervous than I was before!

Since 2005 I have been working at a Christian high school.  Almost all of my colleagues were Christian, and the majority of our students were, too!  In fact, daily prayer with our students was encouraged, each day started with a devotion read over the public address system, every day included twenty minutes for a chapel service or devotion, and issues of faith were freely discussed in our classrooms.  Our Christian beliefs were on display at every turn.

What a blessing, right?  Right!  It was an incredible privilege to work in an environment that was supportive of my faith and in which I could freely share my faith with my students.  However, it was also a bit of a safety zone.  My students and I, I believe, took this for granted.  It was a given.  We started most conversations on an even and familiar playing field. We knew, to some degree at least, where the other was coming from.  Conflicts were in the minutiae, not in the big ticket items.  Parents counted on that; so did we.

Here in Ann Arbor, which is, as a whole, a very diverse environment, we sit on a small Christian college campus that is very similar to the high school environment where I taught.  The majority of employees/faculty/staff are Christian and I would say that more than half of the students are, too.  So, again, we are operating in a somewhat predictable environment.

My tutoring experiences have allowed me to interact with students from a variety of backgrounds for one hour at a time. In the one hour that we are bent over my students’ school work or writing we spend very little time on personal matters–we joke a little, talk about sports, or share our plans for the weekend.  We don’t often have time for deeper conversations.  But today —  today I enter an unknown environment.

I have been in the office once.  Situated on the second floor of an office building on the south side of Ann Arbor, the learning center is very professional.  All employees are in business attire (khakis are only allowed if they ‘appear to be professionally laundered’), students and parents buzz to get in and are greeted at the door by an employee.  The waiting room is clean and orderly.  The rooms within the office suite are tastefully furnished and impeccably kept.

The employees I interacted with during my two-hour interview were very professional.  They taught us a strategy and then practiced it with us, coaching us in the ways that they would coach students.  I have no idea how many employees there are.  I have no idea what backgrounds they come from.  I don’t know what students and parents I will be working with.

I just know who I am.

This morning’s devotion said that when Peter referred to believers in his letter I Peter, he used the word lithos, which is the same word that was used for the stone that was rolled away from the tomb. Beth Moore, in this study, said, “Wouldn’t it be something if our lives became living stones exposing the empty tomb…what if people were convinced we worship a living Savior simply by watching the effervescent life of the Spirit within us?”

What if in this new environment, where we don’t start with morning devotions over the public address, where I don’t attend chapel with my students, where I don’t start every session with prayer, my students and their parents and my coworkers can still see evidence that I “worship a living Savior”.  What does that look like?

I don’t know.

So that is my prayer today.  My prayer is that I will not be focused on how my physical body is feeling but that I will face each student in front of me as a gift, that I will recognize the awesome opportunity I have been given, and that I will see God working in all of it.  Stay tuned.

2 Corinthians 2:14

But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of Him everywhere.

Continue reading “January 5th-ish” →

Dayenu, re-visit

~ Kristin ~ 4 Comments

I first wrote this piece in April 2015 after attending a Seder meal. Tonight, my husband and I are hosting one. As I mark my blessings in April 2019, I remember that any one of them would have been enough.

On Maundy Thursday, we attended a Messianic Seder. We have, in the past, been privileged to attended an authentic Jewish Seder in the home of  friends. During the Seder, the story of the Passover is retold around a table where participants taste foods that signify the journey of the Israelites out of Egypt. The matzah reminds us that the Israelites had to flee so quickly that they didn’t even have time to add yeast and allow their bread to rise. The bitter herbs remind us of their suffering. The salty water reminds us of their tears. The lamb shank reminds us that the blood of the lamb was placed over their doorposts so that the angel of death would ‘pass over’ and not kill their firstborn sons.

Traditional Seder

I grew up listening to the story — as though it were mythical, as though it didn’t really happen. As though it didn’t have anything to do with me. As though I hadn’t been rescued, too. But I have been rescued from my own personal Egypt. I’ve been to real-life Israel. I recognize that the story is no myth, rather, it has a transcendent power that resonates with me.

The Jewish celebration of Passover, written in the Haggadah, includes a section titled ‘dayenu’ which literally means, “it would have been enough.” The leader of the family says, “If He had brought us out of Egypt,” and the family responds, “dayenu.” It would have been enough.

He says, “If He had executed justice against the Egyptians,”

“Dayenu.”.

“If He had split the sea for us,”

“Dayenu.”

“If He had fed us manna,”

“Dayenu.”

The sentiment, of course, is that God did so much more. He did bring the Israelites out of Egypt after hundreds of years of slavery. He did execute justice against the Egyptians — killing many with the rushing waters of the Red Sea as they pursued the Israelites who had made it safely to dry ground on the other side. He had provided manna so they never went without food. He rescued them. He provided for them. He made their descendants many. He took them to a land flowing with milk and honey. Any one of those actions would have been enough to elicit the thanks of the Israelites, but God did so much more.

Our Passover Seder on Thursday was different than the Jewish Passover we attended years ago, but very familiar. We shared the matzah. We ate the bitter herbs. We enjoyed the charoset — a sweet mixture of nuts, apples, honey, wine, and cinnamon. Those parts were just like I remembered. The difference was that our pastor highlighted all the areas of the Passover that pointed to the Messiah. Just as the matzah is broken and hidden away to be brought out later, the body of Jesus was broken for us, hidden for three days, and brought back. Just as Moses led the Israelites out of slavery to exacting task masters, Jesus has offered us freedom from slavery to sin and the need to earn God’s favor. Just as the blood of the lamb protected the Israelites from the angel of death, the blood of the Lamb covers our imperfections and protects us from our punishment — our death.

When we got to the ‘dayenu’ portion of our Seder on Thursday, I read along with the others from the Haggadah, but in my mind, I was thinking,

“If you had just rescued me from my own intentions,”

“Dayenu.”

“If you had just provided for my physical needs,”

“Dayenu.”

“If you had just given me a husband who is a partner,”

“Dayenu.”

“If you had just provided me with children,”

“Dayenu.”

My sentiment, of course, is that God has done so much more for me. He has saved me, and that would have been enough. But He also has blessed me beyond what I could have ever asked or imagined with family, friends, community, meaningful work, and so much more.

Blessed are You, O Lord our God, King of the Universe.

The Israelites, the Jewish people, demonstrate intentionality in marking their thankfulness for their rescue. They remember where they once were, and they have chosen never to forget who rescued them and by what means.

Having seen, we can go and do likewise.

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church, and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen

Ephesians 3:20

Spring Thaw

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

It happened — Michigan thawed!

Today I went outside and looked at the flower bed where I had planted bulbs last fall and — bam! — the beginnings of daffodils and tulips were breaking the surface!  I went for a walk with my dog with nothing more than a light jacket on — no hat, no gloves, no parka! I came home and opened the windows in my kitchen and my bedroom.  Now, as I type I can hear the sounds of students chatting as they walk past, I can feel a cool breeze on my bare arms, I can smell Spring.

Yippee!!

Now granted, if I still lived in St. Louis, I would have been writing this over a month ago, but, hey, a girl has to celebrate when she can! I will still be celebrating in July when it is merely 80 degrees here instead of the 90-100 degrees that I would have been experiencing in St. Louis.  Yes, it was a bleak and frigid winter, but we made it through!

I can’t help but think, as I observe the object lesson that is my life, that this Spring thaw is a reminder that, like the bleak and frigid winter, the other dismal seasons of life are temporary.  You know, the season you had that broken leg, or the season when you were in high school, or the season when you had three children under the age of five, or the season when you couldn’t find a job?  These seasons, like the long cold winters of Michigan, come and they go.

But we don’t always believe that.  There was a day in the middle of January when we had so much snow that even the University of Michigan cancelled classes.  It was impossible to get out of our parking lot, let alone onto the streets.  As I peered out my window at the plows desperately trying to clear paths, I couldn’t imagine a day like today when all the snow would be gone and Chester and I would be walking happily side by side.  Last year as I lay in bed, exhausted after a long day at work, I couldn’t imagine a time when I would work on a project all morning, go to lunch with a friend, take a walk with my dog, and then come home to plan a lesson for a student I would see later in the afternoon.  But that is what happened today.   Years ago as I worked through recovery from an eating disorder I couldn’t imagine being in a healthy and satisfying marriage, parenting four children, earning a Master’s degree, holding a teaching position, or becoming a grandmother. But, guys, all those things have happened.

So today, I drink in the sunshine and smell the freshness in the breeze.  I remember that Winter will come again, but it won’t last forever.  It will be followed by Spring.  Sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

Song of Songs 2:11

See the winter is past, the rains are over and gone;

Flowers appear on the earth, the season of singing has come.

Every t crossed, every i dotted

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been sitting here in my house by the river for seven months.  I have settled into my freedom of sleeping as long as I want, making plans for whenever I want, eating what I like when I like it, and changing plans at the drop of a hat.  If I want to go for a walk, I might go at 10am, or noon, or 3pm, or 7pm.  If I need groceries, I go when I get around to it.  I might stay in my pajamas all day, or be out the door pressed and dressed at 9am.  It’s a life of luxury.

But, guys, I got a job!

I know, I know, I’ve been trying to get a job for most of those seven months.  I have been crying about wanting something to do, something to do.  I have complained about my restlessness and need for something more…and now I have it!!

So, before I start work next Monday, I am trying to suck up my last moments of relaxation and freedom while also tying up the loose ends of everything I’ve started over the last months.

You may remember that I got very excited about a project with Days for Girls (http://www.daysforgirls.org/).  I am happy to report that by the end of this week a friend and I will have completed 10 hygiene kits for girls in Africa.   Many girls miss up to two months of school because they do not have the sanitary supplies that would allow them to attend during their periods.These kits will provide the supplies they need to stay in school.

Last week, the battalion and I finished our study on The Sermon on the Mount — I’m going to have to pass on the next study while I go through my training for my new job, but I am hopeful that I will get to rejoin them in the fall.  In the meantime, I will carry them in my heart right beside the lessons we have learned together.

I put the last few pieces in my latest 1000 piece puzzle last night.  I think the puzzle table might remain bare for a few weeks while I get my bearings.

Because, guys, I’ve got a job!

I was thinking yesterday about how perfectly God chose this job for me:

  • It’s working with students one-on-one.  This is really my favorite part of teaching.  I will work with the same students every day, one at a time, for one hour each.  I will get to know my students, watch them grow, laugh with them, and celebrate our victories together.
  • It is part-time.  When asked in the interview if I would rather work full- or part-time I replied that I would prefer part-time, unless that would eliminate me from the position.  The interviewer replied, “Not at all.” I can determine how many hours I would like to work.
  • It’s a seasonal position.  I only had to commit through August.  This allows me an opportunity to see if I can manage working five days a week.  Since students commit to five days a week and see the same teachers every day, teachers must also commit to five days a week.  If by the end of August I have determined that five days is too much, I can leave gracefully and move on to what’s next.  If I like the position, I will be eligible to apply for regular employment.
  • It’s an entry-level position.  Translation: the pay is not great, but the responsibilities aren’t either!  Someone else will write lesson plans that I will execute.  I will have no grading to take home — no stack!
  • I will be learning.  Before I even start teaching, I will have eighty hours of training that will equip me to help students who have always struggled with reading.  I love to learn.  Even better, I love to share what I have learned with others.  This is a perfect set-up for me.

How did I end up with such an awesome situation? My Headhunter found me this job.  He has known me since before I was born.   He knit me together in my mother’s womb. He not only provided a job that meets my needs,  He provided me with just enough time to finish my projects so that I can enjoy Easter weekend with my family before I start work on Monday.  He crossed every t and dotted every i.

I don’t know why I thought He wouldn’t.

Matthew 6:8

for your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.

Uniquely Made

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I did it!  I got through all seventy days in the book Whispers of Hope: Ten Weeks of Devotional Prayer.  I’m pretty sure it took me closer to twenty weeks….but I did it!  So, what did I do today?  I turned back to day one and started all over again!  Guess what, I didn’t remember a thing from day one — it was like a new experience.  That’s the beauty of middle age.

The message of day one, or at least the message I got today, was that God is creative — He has made each of us exquisitely unique.  We were not created to walk identical paths.  We were each created for our own path.  Isn’t that amazing?  God created each of us for our own path and He alone “knows the plans” He has for us.  That’s why we need to hear from Him every day, because He’s the only one who knows our unique needs — the only one who can give us specific made-to-order direction.

So why have I spent so many minutes of my life checking with others, comparing myself to others, and judging others? I look at someone else’s path and I think to myself — well, that’s a different path than mine — it must be better or worse.  Then, having passed judgment, I try to adapt my path to make it more, or less, like that other person’s path.

I know I’m not alone here.  In fact, our society — schools, businesses, governments — exist to provide equality or sameness to the masses.  They are trying to be fair, or to motivate us to purchase, or to create order.  And, to be fair, I think we are bent toward wanting to be ‘just like everyone else’.  We want to fit in, to blend, to belong.

However, all of our attempts at trying to be the same, blend in, and belong ultimately force us to deny our uniqueness. Now, we don’t seem to mind uniqueness if it comes in the form of exceptional athletic ability, extreme good looks, or undeniable wit.  But what about uniqueness that creates physical challenge, an odd appearance, or cognitive difficulty? We seem to make concessions for ‘those’ people, don’t we?  What about the kind of uniqueness that believes differently than we do, tackles problems in ways we haven’t thought of, or decides to go against the flow of the masses? Do we celebrate that?

Or do we ridicule it? If we are conservative, do we ridicule the liberals? If we are liberal, do we berate conservatives? If we went to college, do we judge those who went straight to work? If we choose simplicity, do we frown on those who treasure extravagance?

My, oh, my.  I do believe we have a tangent (or two, or three) here, ladies and gentlemen. Let me get back to the point.

God created each of us uniquely.  We are not the same.  He has specific plans for each of us — “plans to prosper and not to harm” us.  Sure, sometimes humans point us directly to the plans God has for us, but more often, we get distracted by looking at what others are doing.  Sometimes so distracted, that we forget to check with the Creator himself.  Who knows better what is best for us than He?

If you’ve read my blog for more than a day, you know that I don’t check with God first, I try to tackle everything myself.  However, in this next chapter I am being challenged to turn from my old ways, to turn toward His Word, to consult with Him about my path.  It’s a day-by-day challenge for me.  That is why, kids, I am going to spend the next ten (or twenty) weeks continuing to develop my prayer life.

Once again, I need the bonus lesson.

Psalm 139:13-14

You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I am fearfully, [uniquely], wonderfully made.