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, ministry, chronic illness, and teaching.

Challenge Accepted

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With all the bravado that’s been oozing from my blog the last couple of days, I was bound to be challenged.  A friend posted on my Facebook page ’21 Actual Analogies used by high school students in English essays’ and commented ‘any chance you can string a few together in your next blog?’  Now I realize she was probably joking, but I can’t just let a challenge pass me by, can I? 

Besides, I am due for a little fun.  Life can’t be all about battles, and transitions, and illness, and such.  We do need to laugh. 

I actually love to laugh, and I have been told on numerous occasions that I have a rather loud, obnoxious laugh, one that makes my children blush when they can hear it across a crowded room.  However, It has never been described as, a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up*. 

I have been told on several occasions, though, to quiet down; I shouldn’t laugh so loud.  But what am I supposed to do, hold my laughter in?  No can do. I love that feeling of laughing until I can’t breathe. So, I’m sorry if I am embarrassing you, or making you uncomfortable, I can’t hold it in or Joy [would fill my] heart like a silent but deadly fart fills a room with no windows*. (I am not making these up.)  My kids always said the silent-but-deadlies were the worst. 

Speaking of farts, not really, just kidding. 

I can see the assignment now, “Write a five-paragraph essay using the strategies you have learned for using similes and metaphors.  Include at least three analogies in your essay.”  I can imagine the students staring at their blank screens, scratching their heads, coming up with gems like, [I] was confused; as confused as a homeless man on house arrest*.  Or, The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object*.  The poor teacher.  She had written her plan, crafted her assignment.  They had practiced, they had done in-class exercises.  They had seen numerous examples in that catchy YouTube video.  But still, her students were coming up with stuff like, The sun was below the horizon, like a diabetic grandma easing into a warm salt bath*. (Ok, you gotta admit, that one did create a pretty graphic mental picture.) 

Aren’t words fun?  The reason I am not a very good English teacher is because if my students wrote analogies like these, I would be laughing so hard, I would forget to teach them that the tone of their image has to match the tone of their message.  It should not create tension like this: Their love burned with the intensity of a urinary tract infection*.   I should, in the classroom, say something like, “The intensity of love has positive connotations while a urinary tract infection has negative connotations.  Using an analogy like this creates dissonance, boys and girls.   Our analogies should create consonance, agreement, harmony.”  But instead, I would be laughing as hard as someone who is about to become a spokesman for Poise pads. (Yeah, that one’s mine.)  I wouldn’t be able to pull myself together enough to give the true meat of the lesson.  

But we would have fun.  And we sure had fun.  

Job 8:21

He will yet fill your mouth with laughter, 

and your lips with shouts of joy. 

*All bold statements are lifted from the original post my friend shared with me. 

Two kinds of battle

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It’s funny, I just reread my post from yesterday, about doing physical battle against illness.  I got to the scripture verse and practically laughed out loud. “Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though a war break out against me, even then will I be confident.” 

I am laughing at myself because I was thinking for a minute that the physical battle was the one I needed to be focused on.  Oh, silly me.  I forget so easily.  I stayed lost in that physical battle most of the day.  I am still not feeling great, and I had to see my new rheumatologist today, too. I was poked, prodded, examined, and x-rayed.   But that was the easy part. 

The tougher part was the spiritual/emotional battle that has been subtly building over the last several days.  There’s nothing extraordinary going on, really.  It’s just that, like everyone else who lives and breathes, I have a steady stream of stuff coming at me.  Stuff like daily details, family relationships, health information, … just stuff.  Not one piece is overwhelming on its own.  Especially not if I carefully lift each item up and release it.  But if I hang on to stuff, plot and plan and maneuver it just so, try to own it, try to solve it…then it owns me.  It’s psychological warfare.  It’s covert. I don’t even know I’m being attacked until I’ve got myself in knots.  

The first symptom is usually sarcasm.  Little snide comments start slipping out of my mouth.  At first I laugh them off, but then, I notice that they are actually painful barbs directed mostly at those closest to me.  But this one symptom doesn’t usually get my full attention.  

I usually have to progress to midnight wakefulness and fevered internet searching, trying to find the answers to my problems through information, or services, or a job (oy, vey!).  It happened again tonight. After sending several emails and searching numerous medical websites,  I almost filled out an online form to receive job notifications for Pete’s sake!  Like a job, doing more, will actually make me feel better! 

Thankfully, I woke up and closed out the screen and turned to my blog.  “Ho, hum, if I can’t sleep anyway, I might as well blog…” I read what I wrote yesterday, then I got to the scripture…”Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though a war break out against me, even then will I be confident.” 

Oh, yeah, that’s who I am. I am confident. I am the girl whose confirmation verse is Joshua 1:9 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord, your God, will be with you wherever you go.”  I am the fighter with no earrings and a ponytail who has put on the breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation, the sandals of peace, and the belt of truth.  I am carrying the sword of the Spirit.

Come at me. 

Emotional/spiritual warfare?  You are nothing. I’m not afraid of you.  The Lord, my God, is with me wherever I go…and He has promised to “keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in [Him]” (Isaiah 26:3).  I trust Him. 

That is all.  Goodnight. 

 

The battle is on

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“Autoimmune diseases affect approximately 8% of the population, 78% of whom are women” (US Center for Disease Control and Prevention).  Among the autoimmune diseases I’ve heard of are rheumatoid arthritis, psoriatic arthritis, diabetes, celiac disease, lupus, Sjogren’s syndrome, and more.  No one is really sure what causes them.  I have a genetic marker that is often linked with the type of disease that I have. Some people believe the diseases have links to GMOs.  The CDC suggests that they may be linked to previous infection. 

Whatever the case, autoimmune diseases are a malfunction of the little soldiers in our bodies that fight disease.  They are a bit trigger happy, you might say.  They attack when there is nothing to attack.  They are always running around fighting something in our bodies, even when there is nothing to fight.  In my body, they gather around my joints, in my skin, and in my eyes.  They gather, they shout, they fire, they fight!  

You may have noticed when you are sick, and these little soldiers are fighting their hardest, you have to go to bed and rest.  They wear you out!  You feel achey all over, you have a fever, a sore throat, you feel blah.  That is what autoimmune disease feels like most days.  

One way to treat an autoimmune disease is to take immunosuppressants — Enbrel, Humira, Remicade, etc.  These drugs tell the little fighting soldiers in your body to “be ‘at ease’, the infection you are imagining is not really an infection.  It’s a hallucination, so calm down.”  That is all well and good until there is an actual infection.  The fighting soldiers are ‘at ease’ according to their orders, so little enemies can infiltrate the system virtually undetected. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I have been infiltrated.  Last week, my dear husband had a minor cold — a little sniffle here, a little sneezing there.  I felt great.  I washed the sheets.  I washed my hands.  I kept my distance.  But, some of those little enemies abandoned him and scurried over to me.  They hid for a couple of days, scoping out the opposition.  But they could see that my soldiers were inside their tents, under orders to “be at ease”.  They decided it was safe to ‘be fruitful and multiply’.  

So, I feel a little like I’ve been hit by a truck.  

Not to worry.  Those enemies underestimated the host body.   I am not one to be messed with.  I dragged myself out of bed this morning, took some Emergen-C, some Dayquil, drank a kale-hemp-berry-almond-flax-chia smoothie, made some strong black tea, and looked those little buggers in the eyes.  “Come at me.”  

I immediately felt a scurrying and fleeing.  These little infiltrators now realize that I have had serious disease fighting training in the school of motherhood and the advanced training of teaching in a high school (with juniors — ew). Besides, I have God on my side.  I am assured a victory.  I am not going to lie down and be beaten.  I have taken out my earrings, pulled my hair back, and I am ready.  

I bet even you can hear them fleeing.  

Psalm 27:3

Though an army besiege me, I will not fear; 

though war break out against me, even then I will be confident. 

Reality

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I used to get frustrated with students who sat in the writing lab staring at a blank screen.  

Guess what I have been doing for almost an hour. 

Yup. 

Busted. 

I’m sitting here in my pajamas, realizing that my cup of tea is almost empty and I have nothing to say. 

My students prayed for this moment. 

Chester is asleep under my desk.  My husband has left for work.  The remaining daughter is into her second hour of productivity. And here I sit. 

I mean, I have been a little productive.  I did send a couple of emails.  I did clear a level on Candy Crush that had been giving me trouble.  Don’t judge.  

I want to start writing about my options for ‘what’s next’, but I am committed to not discussing that at least until September.  And it’s only August 26! September 1 is Labor Day, so I can’t very well discuss career options or work on Labor Day!  So I am going to have to find something to write about between now and September 2.  That is seven whole posts!!!!!!!

Being still is hard!!!  

Of course I have to admit that I’m not just sitting in my pajamas playing Candy Crush all day.  I have managed to keep up on the laundry, cook a few meals, keep the house relatively orderly, go for walks, and meet new people every day.  

And I also have to grudgingly admit that even that has worn me out.  I woke up feeling not great today, which tells me I have to take extra care to rest.  And that makes me a bit angry.  I want to be able to do things.  I had big dreams of going to quaint coffee shops to write, of exploring Ann Arbor, of going on adventures.  I was hoping for endless possibilities. 

But today, I think the reason it’s difficult to write is that reality is jumping up and down in front of me waving its arms.  “Hey, Kristin, remember me?  Reality?  I am the knowledge that you have days like today where you struggle to get out of bed, your joints ache, you are exhausted, and you want to cry.  Do you really think you can explore ‘what’s next’ with me standing right here?” 

Hey, Reality, you suck.  

But, Reality is, after all, reality.  I do have days like this.  I won’t crawl back into bed, but I will talk myself into doing Pilates, into going for a walk, into taking a break and maybe even a nap.  I will look at the people in front of me and be thankful that I have this grace period to breathe and fully evaluate reality.  

Only when I fully grasp my new reality will I be able to see what God has next for me.  

Psalm 19:21

Many are the plans in [my] heart, 

but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

 

Sent to the office

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Psalm 25: 4-5

Show me your ways, Lord,
    teach me your paths.
5 Guide me in your truth and teach me,
    for you are God my Savior,
    and my hope is in you all day long.

Many years ago, when the children were young and I was staying home with them, I felt a bit overwhelmed.  We had had three babies in three years, my husband was in full-time ministry, and we had one car.  Yup, one car.  So, he left in the morning and I was there with the children.  He came home in the afternoon and I was there with the children. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I wouldn’t trade those days for anything.  But any of you who have been or are stay-at-home moms know that there were moments when I felt a little trapped, exhausted, and frustrated.  My husband saw this and started encouraging some outlets.  It started with, “Here are the car keys, I have the kids, go get some lunch or coffee;  take a walk or something.”  It progressed to “I got us a membership at the YMCA.  How about you go swimming before I leave for work every morning?”  Both of those strategies helped, but it wasn’t until he said, “Go up to my office and do some writing,” that I finally felt a true release of pressure. 

I had been writing at home the whole time…I would send the kids to their rooms for ‘quiet time’ every morning at 10:00 for thirty minutes.  None of us were allowed to speak to each other for those thirty minutes…because we all (mostly mommy) needed a break from one another.  They would each play or look at books in their rooms while I would have my devotion and journaling.  But it wasn’t enough. 

When my husband ‘sent me’ to his office at the church to write for a couple of hours a couple of times a week, I had permission to really do some writing.  It was such a gift to me.  I began to write chancel dramas for our church, lyrics for worship songs, and articles for newsletters and parenting magazines.  It was life-giving writing.  It became even more powerful when the chancel dramas were used in our worship services and people commented that they had meaning.  When my lyrics became songs and the whole congregation sang them. When I saw my articles in print and people actually commented on them. I was connecting with people outside of my home, sharing my relationship with God, and it was feeding me. 

When we moved to the seminary ten years ago, I had to put a lot of that on a shelf.  My energy was diverted to teaching and parenting, period.  Both very fulfilling, to be sure.  Both very demanding also.  

Well, I am no longer teaching.  My kids are all moving on.  So, I am returning to my writing.  I have ‘sent’ myself to the office in our little home by the river.  I have given myself permission to write every day.  I am trying to connect with people outside of my home, sharing my relationship with God, and it, again, is feeding me.  

I am loving this next chapter.

 

It’ll happen, at just the right time

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

I’ve got this weed in the front of my house that is kind of bugging me.  I’ve got to pull it out of there, but look at it!  It’s huge!  And, once I pull it out, what am I going to put in there? Besides I haven’t really had the time or energy for a big project like that.  Remember, I’m trying to be still.  

I am being still, by the way. I mean, we haven’t even got a church yet! I know, I know, I’ve only been here four weeks.  

The first week, we missed church because we were in Indianapolis waiting for a tow truck to come and get the keys out of the locked car.  Yeah, I did that.  Sigh.  

The second week, my husband preached at a nearby congregation that is pastored by a seminary classmate.  I was welcomed to sit with the regulars and introduced around to everyone like they were my family. After service, we went to lunch with our seminary friends.  Bliss. 

The third week, we were traveling.  We were in Chicago collecting a daughter, so we worshipped at her community church.  It’s a young congregation that meets in a school auditorium — great music, great message, great people.  

Today, the fourth week, we are going to worship with students at the Concordia Chapel before we join them on their annual service day.   

I have no idea what is happening next week. 

It’s ok, really.  It’s just weird.  

We’ve been church workers for as long as we’ve known each other, so we have rarely been without a church.  We were married in a church where my husband was on staff.  When he went to graduate school, we moved to a small town, he introduced himself to the pastor, and before we knew it, we were doing youth work. We moved again for his internship, he introduced himself to a pastor, and before we knew it, he was on staff — for twelve years.   We went to seminary and were assigned to a congregation.  Then, for his pastoral internship, we moved to the church that would become his first call.  We were there eight years altogether.  

Last year, when he moved here, and I stayed there.  I was in a strange place.  My husband, the pastor, was no longer the pastor of the church where I belonged.  I worshipped there sometimes, and the people were great, but it just felt weird.  I found a few other congregations to visit, and even frequent, but I knew I wasn’t going to really invest because of the pending move. 

Now I have moved, but I think it’s going to be a while before we really connect to a congregation.  There’s no rush, really. It’s ok to take a minute to breathe.  

God has kind of designed it that way.  He has my husband preaching at area churches to promote Concordia once or twice a month.  We still have a bit of traveling to do.  And, He knows us.  He knows that once we commit, we will really commit, and I sense that this period of not having a church home is part of the being still portion of this journey.  

Have I mentioned that I am not accustomed to being still? I’m not accustomed to not knowing.  I’m not accustomed to unfinished business.  I’m not accustomed to having a gigantic weed in the front of my house. 

But, I am learning to just chill.  Be patient.  Wait on the Lord.  Be still.  

I’m pretty sure that I will one day pull that weed out of the ground, it may take some help from some passing football players.  Maybe they will also help me plant some flowers and spread some mulch. 

And, I’m pretty sure that we will find a church home.  At just the right time.  When we’re ready.  He knows when that is. 

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

 

A psalm of Kristin

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

Psalm 23 (Rathje Revised Version, rrv)

A psalm of Kristin

1 The Lord is my owner/manager, I have everything I need.
2  He provides me with a new pillow-top bed,
he gives me a sweet little house beside the Huron,
3     he refreshes my soul.
He plans my itinerary to put me in places where I meet the best people at just the right time.
4 Even though He sometimes sends me to places that others consider scary, 
 I have not been afraid,
    because He goes ahead of me and prepares the way, providing resources and assistance at every turn;
His Word and His people comfort me.

5 You shower me with blessings and make me oblivious to any enemies.
You fill my fridge with food and my glass with nice red wine, until it overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life (I don’t know why I would ever doubt that after all your faithfulness to me)
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever (with some pretty amazing people that have gone before and beside me).

They’re He-re!

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

When I moved in almost three weeks ago, the campus was virtually empty. A few summer workers were maintaining the buildings and grounds, but the residence halls were abandoned. The trickle began a couple of weeks ago with resident assistants and fall athletes. Yesterday was move-in day. Cars filled every parking spot as parents helped their kids cram way too much stuff into their new dwellings.

Last night a few of us decided to make an appearance at an orientation event. I got just a glimpse of what I am in for. We were in the black box theater on campus where several student leaders did skits to share the nuances of campus life–eating in the cafeteria, visiting the mail room, and the like. In the room with us were (at least) four children of classmates of mine from when I attended this university!

The stages in the life of a Concordia student paraded in front of me –brand new freshmen, student leaders, alumni turned resident staff, and alumna turned Dean’s wife. That’s what I am in for. I get the privilege of a court side seat to watch awkward freshmen become confident leaders become invested adults. Seriously? And some of them are kids of my friends?

Who gets to do this? I do!

Later today, one of my classmates, who dropped off her freshman daughter here yesterday, is picking me up for lunch. This woman was once an unsure freshman at this very college herself. When I met her, she was a ‘seasoned’ junior who had already overcome many extraordinary obstacles. (That’s her story to tell.) Because of her growth through those obstacles, she was able to be part of the team that held me through my obstacles.

We are both launching freshmen daughters this year. We are both becoming grandmothers this year. Today we will share hugs and swap stories and remember the ‘good old days’ at Concordia and thank God for his faithfulness in providing each of us a place like this, and people like us, to walk through the stages of life with.

Deuteronomy 7:9
Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations…

Plugged in

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I am sitting in a waiting room writing this on my phone. It’s weird.

Why, kids, I remember back in the day when we had to use paper…and number 2 pencils. I remember the manual typewriter I used during high school and the fancy electric typewriter I plugged into the wall in my college dorm room. Then, the big step up when my college work study employer let me stay after hours to write papers on the office computer and print them on the enormous printer.

Two years ago all of my students were given iPads and I made sweeping changes to my instructional methods. I own a MacBook and an iPhone. I am continually connected. Or distracted.

We all are, really. We all talk about it. We get irked when someone who is with us takes a call or checks a text. But we also take calls and check texts.

But hey, people can reach us. And we have gps on us all the time. And Google. Those are useful things.

And we have games and Facebook or Twitter if we get bored in, say, a waiting room. So, technology is good. Progress is good. Change is good. Right?

Assess it for yourself. Only you know you. It’s not all good or all bad. Technology is a tool. Tools are meant to be used to accomplish a task or achieve a goal.

Right now, this phone is allowing me to blog when I am away from my computer. It is helping me achieve a goal. A few minutes ago I messaged a friend about meeting for coffee next week. I used Google Maps to find the waiting room I am sitting in. Right now, I am effectively using this tool.

In a little while I may spend too much time playing Words with Friends. I may be so engrossed in this tool that I ignore someone near me who would really like to chat.

There is a time to put the tool away. I mean, I wouldn’t have walked around with that manual typewriter. I have been known to stick a number 2 pencil behind my ear, but that never got in the way of me looking someone in the eye.

I’m gonna put the tool away for a bit and be present in this moment. I’ll take it back out later, when I need it. Right now, I am gonna try to look someone in the eye.

I Corinthians 10:23. All things are permissable, but not all things are beneficial. Everything is permissable bit not everything is constructive.

Confessions of an English Teacher, numero uno, revisit

~ Kristin ~ 2 Comments

I am dusting off this post from August 2014 in celebration of the 1000 English teachers I’m reading with now — June 2019.

My students have helped me keep my secret for years — I’m not really the best English teacher. It’s true. They correct my grammar almost as much as I correct theirs. I misspell words, even on the board! And, to be honest, I always have to look up the correct usage of lie and lay.  

I mean I have the credentials and everything — a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in English. I was even magna cum whatever both times. I love English. I love literature. I love words. I’m just not a big fan of rules. 

(I know, I know — obviously.)

What I love about language, actually, is its fluidity, its malleability. I love the way meaning changes over time and according to circumstance. I love playing with language and trying out new words in new contexts.  

When I went to grad school I transitioned from the language of Barney the Dinosaur to the discourse of academia. When I moved from Michigan to Missouri, I switched from pop to soda. I love learning new terms as they emerge, and I especially love trying the language of my students.

One of my favorite parts of teaching is when my students teach me the ‘in’ words of the moment. I like to pretend that I have swag and that I can use their words in appropriate ways, but really I am just providing comic relief for my students who don’t really love language as much as I do. (Sigh.) I once had a group a students who were committed to saying ‘that’s dead‘ at least twenty times per class period. Now for those of you who are not as hip as I am, ‘that’s dead’ means “bad idea” or “I don’t like that” or “no, I disagree”.  So, I would say, “The paper is due tomorrow.” My students would reply, “that’s dead.”  See, now isn’t that fun? 

When I taught at an inner city high school in St. Louis, my students one day spent ten minutes of class teaching me the etymology of the word bird. If I remember correctly bird means a female human. Old bird means my mother. I can’t seem to remember how to refer to a girlfriend, but that’s ok, it was 2005, the words have surely changed by now!

In 2013, for the first time in my career, I taught a class of freshmen. I loved it. They were easily impressed, tried the things I asked them to, played along with my games, and encouraged my love of words. One day we were working on a particularly tough grammar lesson, and one of my students demonstrated that he understood. I excitedly high-fived him and said, “Bam!” That was all it took. For the rest of the year, whenever anyone did something right, we had to have a “Bam!”

Language is a reflection of personality, of individuality. We are not all the same, especially in this country. We are all kinds of people. We can’t all mean the same thing just because we are using the same word. When I say ‘conservative’, I might simply mean ‘guarded’; you might take it to mean a political viewpoint. For me, ‘fresh’ means ‘new”; to some it means ‘stylish’. ‘We negotiate meaning all day long. We have to listen and question to communicate. We can’t assume that we understand just because we hear words that we recognize. We have to enter into dialogue. We have to get to know one another. We have to be flexible, malleable, fluid. 

Ah, grasshopper, there is a lesson here for all of us, isn’t there? Let’s use our words. Let’s listen to each other, without assumption and without judgment. Let’s try to understand where the other person is coming from. When we aren’t sure, let’s ask for clarification. Someone who uses words differently than I do isn’t necessarily dangerous or less than me. (S)he is just different. And aren’t we glad for the difference? A world full of people just like me, using all the same words that I use, meaning exactly what I mean, would be incredibly dull. 

So I learn from my students, and I break a few rules. I try out words that I don’t really understand, and I talk to people who are different than me.

I make mistakes. I ask for forgiveness. Then I try again.  

Bam. 

let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance”

Proverbs 1:5