Tag: blogging

Swan-dive to Mundane

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I was sitting in the waiting room of my physical therapist’s office yesterday morning, thumbing through a People magazine.  I was early for my 8:15 appointment, so she was still moving around me, tidying the office.  She greeted me, of course, and I continued to “read” meaningless celebrity “news”.

“Have you done any blogging lately?” she said out of nowhere.

“No,” sigh, “I’ve been kind of in a funk.  Writing would probably get me out of it, but I just haven’t found my way there in a while.”

“Yeah, it really centers your spirit, doesn’t it?”

Man, we haven’t even started my PT yet and she’s already getting at the core.  How does she do that?

The last time I blogged, I was sitting in Jerusalem.  Today I am sitting, still in pajamas, on the futon in my office in my little house by the river. Then, I was floating high on the experience, the relationships, the food — have I mentioned the food?  Today, I am back in the mundane — classes, laundry, tax preparation, and the like.

It’s a lot easier to write about the fantastic, isn’t it?  It’s lovelier to live in the beautiful. However,  we do most of our dwelling in the ordinary, so coming down from the extraordinary sometimes involves a crash landing. And crash I did.

Some of the crash was circumstantial.  I went from touring brilliantly-farmed land lush with oranges, strawberries, and figs to trudging across frozen tundra.  I transitioned from touring on a bus full of enthusiastic learners who scored one another’s jokes, sang together, laughed together,   and cried together, to spending a lot of time on my own sorting receipts, preparing for class, and putting away suitcases.

Some of the crash was self-inflicted. My doctor had recommended before the trip that I do a 21-day elimination diet to see if any foods were causing my pain and/or inflammation.  I postponed it until after the trip (yes, the trip where we ate like kings three times a day), but started immediately when we got home.  For the past three weeks, in addition to not eating gluten or dairy (both of which I have avoided for three years), I also eliminated soy, corn, citrus, peanuts, pork, and it seems like most everything else.  Oh, and at the same time I finished weaning myself off Zoloft.

Yeah, I’m nuts. I mean if you’re going to come off the mountaintop, you might as well swan-dive, right?  The thing about swan-diving, though, is that you can go pretty far down pretty darn quickly.

The casual observer might not detect the shift in position — from mountaintop to deep, dark valley.  The physical therapist?  The husband?  Oh, they saw the shift.  I did, too.  I could feel the snark, but I couldn’t shake it.

It probably didn’t help that we came back right before the presidential inauguration and all the virtual “noise” that ensued , because I certainly have difficultly not engaging with all of that.  And, rather than turning to my writing, which I know is an outlet for my emotions, I instead turned my gaze to the other things that need my attention — grading, a project I started for my in-laws a year ago, unfinished tax prep — and I thought to myself, it would be pretty selfish of you to sit down and blog for an hour right now.  You have other people depending on you.

And I believed that voice.  I muted the truth that says, “Oxygenate yourself first.”  I forgot that “in repentance and rest is my salvation; in quietness and trust is my strength.”  I trudged onward, avoiding my need for self-care, while attending to tasks that preserved the facade — cleaning the house, preparing for teaching, ironing clothes, cooking…anything but taking the pause that refreshes and centers my spirit.

So, after a sermon on Sunday about suffering and the encounter with my physical therapist who noted that my body is “all over the place,” I give up.  I turn to the keys.  I am honest.  I’ve been struggling, but I’m turning, guys.  I’m turning.  It might take a minute, but I’m turning.

Psalm 30:1ff

I will exalt you, Lord,
    for you lifted me out of the depths
    and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
2 Lord my God, I called to you for help,
    and you healed me.
3 You, Lord, brought me up from the realm of the dead;
    you spared me from going down to the pit.

Pray continually

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

People who have read my blog often ask me if I mind being so transparent.  Does it bother me that everyone can see my thoughts, witness my frailties, know the specifics of my challenges? Nope.

I’m kind of a right-out-there kind of a girl.  I always have been.  I am sometimes jealous of those who are able to conceal their true feelings, withhold information, or refrain from commenting.  I mean, I’m learning…I am 50, after all…but at heart, I’m truly ‘what you see is what you get’.

And where else should this be so than in my personal blog?  I just pointed out yesterday that one of my main purposes in writing this blog is to reflect.  I do this best through writing and not holding back.  Now, I do realize that not everyone functions this way.  It’s just the way I am wired.  I often, as I have written numerous times, don’t know what is going to pop out of my fingers until it does. I surprise myself.  And while, at least for the sake of blogging,  some topics are off limits for me — such as what happens in the bedroom or the bathroom — I don’t want to suppress myself or compromise the integrity of my writing.

I read somewhere this summer — I’ve read so.many.books. about writing this summer — that writing is all about finding your truth.  And, for me, writing this blog is, if nothing else, an exercise in telling the truth.  Often that truth is framed by what I am studying in the Bible on a particular day, so when my devotion this afternoon was about prayer and Daniel’s faithfulness in his daily exercise of prayer, I knew I had to go there.

So here I go: I’m not a faithful pray-er.

It’s not that I don’t believe in the power of prayer — I do!  It’s not that I don’t know what to pray for — I do!  It’s not that people don’t share their requests with me — they do!  It’s not that I’m so busy that I don’t have time to pray — I’m not!  I have no excuses!! I just am not a faithful pray-er.

That is why I started reading the book by Beth Moore, Whispers of Hope: Ten Weeks of Devotional Prayer.  I started reading this book over a year ago!  I’m on my third time through.  The idea is that you read a devotion every day, and at the end of the devotion,you write out your prayers.  Wouldn’t you think this would be a great fit for me?  It is!  In fact, I have written about the effectiveness of this book in this blog before!

[Oh my gosh, guys, I just Google searched “Whispers of Hope” and “Kristinsnextchapter” and I found a whole bunch of blog posts written by … Me! That is super weird!]

So the concept is great, and when I am disciplined about reading my daily devotion, I am usually good about writing down my prayers in my little notebook.  In fact, I’m on my second notebook!  However, you can probably already guess that I’m not super disciplined about doing my daily devotion!  I’m about as disciplined with my devotion as I am with my blog.  And I’m a little less disciplined with daily prayer as I am with either of those!

This blog entry is turning into true confessions of the poorly praying pastor’s wife.

Gulp.

But I haven’t given up. I am a work in progress.

I have champion prayer warrior examples all around me.  I have mentioned before, our great pastor friend, Rev. Wm. Gatz whose life-long ministry is teaching others the power of prayer.  His prayer life is inspiring. I think he’s been praying for our family for well over twenty years at least weekly, if not daily.  I don’t believe I know anyone who prays more, with the exception, possibly, of our good friend, Laurel, who I haven’t seen in years.  We haven’t lived in the same state in over ten years, but I am confident that Laurel prays for me and my family regularly.  That is terribly humbling for someone who often forgets to pray for her own husband and children, let alone anyone else.

Just this week, a good friend, who recently received his first call as a pastor mentioned on Facebook that he is creating a prayer wall in his new office.  He was soliciting requests to put on his wall.  You know I was one of the first to submit a request, but it never occurred to me that I could create my own prayer wall.  (Ok, I do realize that it just occurred to me now.)

So, I just had an idea. While I was in Boston last weekend, I was standing in the kitchen of one of my daughters.  She and her roommates use the front of their fridge as a white board to keep track of what items need to be purchased and who did what chore last — brilliant.  I have also been in the bathrooms of friends who use the mirror to list the prayer needs of family and friends.  So, I’m thinking that if I use a dry-erase marker on the side of my fridge that faces the sink where I stand to do dishes several times a day and on the mirror I stand in front of to dry my excessively thick hair each morning, I would find two (or more) times each day to be reminded to pray.

That’s it.  I’m gonna go start my lists right now.  You know I’m gonna let you know how this goes, right?   Wanna give it a try with me?

I Thessalonians 5:17

[Start, and then} “pray continually.”

Students of the Months

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

So it’s been a while, guys. If you’re my friend on Facebook, you may think I haven’t been writing simply because I’ve been putting together a particularly difficult 1000 piece puzzle.  That’s not really the reason.  The puzzle is my forced stillness in the midst of a pretty crazy summer lifestyle.

In addition to visiting family in Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio this summer, I have also had the opportunity to work with quite a few students.  While some of my regulars from the school year take the summer off, a handful have continued their lessons.  I have a Korean brother and sister who are transferring from a public school to a fairly rigorous private school this fall.  We are sharpening skills to ease the transition.  I have an Indian brother and sister who are entirely bi-lingual and whose parents choose to have regular English lessons to ensure that their English skills for academic purposes rival those of their native-speaking peers. I have a Romanian woman whom I’ve been working with for eighteen months now — we’ve done everything from grammar to pronunciation to reading to writing to nursing school assignments to spelling. I work with a young man, also bilingual, who has challenges in comprehension.  He and I work on vocabulary, test prep, and life skills including interviewing for jobs.  These ‘regulars’ are officially adopted into my heart and have become part of my the larger body I call “my kids”, but they aren’t my only students.

For a willing teacher, the summer also provides some temporary liaisons — opportunities for just a ‘touch’.  This summer I chose to be part of a program called Summer Discovery .  In this program, students from across the country and around the world, move to a university campus for 2-5 weeks to live in a dorm, experience campus life, interact with other students, and take some classes.  They don’t all take English.  In fact, of the hundreds of students who are attending the program at the University of Michigan, here in Ann Arbor, only 18 have chosen to take my “Essay Writing Workshop”.  I mean, they had over forty options — including  architectural design, business management, exploring medicine, sports management, and even a cooking class at Zingerman’s!   So, you can probably imagine that the seven students I had during the first three weeks of Summer Discovery and the eleven students I am working with during the last two weeks are pretty serious about improving their writing.  Most of them have one thing on their minds — completing and even perfecting the college essay that they will use in the admissions process this fall.

Although they have that goal in common, in many ways they are quite diverse.  I have met a competitive horse back rider from Chicago, one boy and one girl from Manhattan, a Japanese boy who happens to actually live in Switzerland, a Chinese boy who goes to high school in Korea, two IB school students — one from Turkey, one from Memphis, a poet from Southern California, a hippie from New Hampshire, and a bantam-weight Korean-American defensive lineman from Kansas City.

Our task?  Each needs to identify a dominant characteristic that he or she wants to convey through the college essay.  One chose ‘hard-working’, one chose ’empathetic’, one chose ‘creative’, etc.  Once each student has determined which characteristic to convey, he or she then has the job of creating a written ‘highlight tape’ in the form of a college essay that just happens to respond to one of five prompts required by the Common App.  Easy? Nope.  Possible? Absolutely.

Today, as part of our class, I invited students to read their first completed essay out loud to the class.  Keep in mind that we have read many models, we have examined the prompts, we have brainstormed and pre-written together, we have drafted, we have participated in peer review, and we have had opportunity for revisions.  Also keep in mind that ALL of these kids are high achievers.  They are planning on attending selective universities.  They have high expectations of themselves.  I just wanted them to read out loud the 500-650 words on the page in front of them.  I had a few volunteers, but most were reluctant.

I pulled out all the stops — I gushed over volunteers.  I gave specific praise.  I offered targeted tips to those who had taken the risk to read out loud.  And then the classic Rathje showed up, “I LOVE reading your essays.  On Monday you walked in eleven strangers that I would get to interact with for ten days, but as I read your writing, I get the inside view!  I get to see who you really are!”

I don’t know if they care, but I LOVE doing this!!  I love the privilege of meeting students from different backgrounds.  I love hearing their stories — of growing up in a family where everyone is taller than 5’10”, of organizing a fund-raiser to benefit children with autism, of interviewing Kevin Durant for a school newspaper, of the challenges of having one Arabic and one Jewish parent, of growing up in Puerto Rico where half of the classes are in English and half are in Spanish, of  experiencing prejudice, health issues, language barriers, and success.  Their stories, though very different from one another, remind me of what is common among humanity — the desire to be seen, the desire to be heard, the desire to be accepted, the desire to be loved.

For a teenager, these desires can feel like desperation.  Imagine the courage it takes to travel to a place you have never been, to live there for several weeks, to put yourself onto a piece of paper, and then to read it out loud in front of people you’ve known for just a short while.  For any of us that would daunting.  For a teenager, it can be terrifying.  Yet today, five students out of my eleven dared to expose themselves, because of that, they had an opportunity to be seen and to be heard, and quite possibly the opportunity to be accepted and loved.

Ephesians 4:32

Be kind and compassionate to one another.

Struggling Still

~ Kristin ~ 1 Comment

So, I’ve been sitting here with my laptop open for quite a while now.  I’ve finished my Bible study.  I’ve responded to several student emails.  I’ve looked at and managed my calendar for the week. But I’m not feeling inspired to write anything.

I have this problem.  I want to be authentic — to not sound cheesy, or preachy, or packaged in any way.  I want what comes out of my fingers to be a genuine reflection of where I’m at.  And, to be honest, ‘where I’m at’ is in my pajamas, sitting on a futon in my office, covered in warmed flaxseed pillows with my dog squished up next to me.  It’s a pretty good life, actually, but it’s not much to write about.

Yet, I’ve committed to writing more.  So, I’m going to write.  And then, for the most part, I’m going to spend my day being still.

I still struggle with this — with stillness, that is.  In my former life, I didn’t have very many times of stillness.  Days, weeks, months, and years, were full of activity — of doing, going, achieving, completing, accomplishing.  So, sitting here halfway through a Monday morning , still dressed in the same clothes I slept in with no intention of changing anytime soon, still seems odd.

I’m telling you, my Missouri friends would not recognize me.  I had a colleague who used to say, “I wish I understood how you get so much done.”  Me, too, friend, me, too.  I’ve said before on this blog how by this time of day in my former life I would’ve showered, put dinner in the crock pot, transported three or four kids to their various schools, tidied my classroom, reviewed my lesson plans, met with a family and their child to craft an educational contract, set up an appointment to observe a teacher, tracked down two delinquent students in the hallway, taught one section of composition, attended chapel, and managed any number of other administrative tasks.

Today? I’ve played my turn in about ten games of Words with Friends, started a load of laundry, finished last night’s dishes, drank some tea and a smoothie, heated some flaxseed pillows, sat down next to my dog, completed my Bible study, and sent some emails.

The rest of my day includes some lesson planning for the upcoming semester and editing a short paper for a student. Period. Ok, fine, I will try to do some Pilates. But seriously, I’m not doing anything else.  I’m not leaving the house.  At all.

And why am I struggling with this?  This is the new reality that was Hand-crafted for me.  This is the Next Chapter I’ve been blessed with.  It’s not boring. It’s not unsatisfying.  In fact, it is exactly what the Doctor ordered to put me back on the path to health.

Yet the do-er in my still sometimes feels like I should be accomplishing something, checking more off my list, making a difference, proving my worth. There it is. Something in me (and in you?) tells me that I don’t have worth unless I have accomplished something in my day. My value is in direct proportion to all the things I have managed to complete.  But ladies and gentlemen, that is a lie.  It’s a lie that I chose to believe for a long time.  And I believed it really well.  So well that I denied myself the opportunity to be still and recover from all the doing.  So, really, (wink, wink) I’m making up for lost time.

Do yourself a favor today.  Remind yourself that your worth is not based on what you do.  It is based on Whose you are. You have been purchased at a great price.  Your value is unfathomable.  Sit down for a minute and fathom that.  Drink it in for a moment while you are being still.

I Corinthians 6:19-20

 Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; 20 you were bought at a price.Therefore honor God with your bodies.

Write anyway.

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

The first piece of advice I give to writing students is that if they want to improve their writing, they have to commit to writing every day.  I often say, “Set a timer for ten minutes and keep your hands or fingers moving that entire time.  It doesn’t matter what you are writing about; just write.”

Often I get the response, “But I don’t know what to write about!”

And I say, “Write anyway.”

So, today I am taking my own advice.  I found the time in my afternoon to do some writing and I thought to myself, “I don’t know what to write about!” And then I heard my answer, “Write anyway.”

Since I’ve been finding threads in this blog for the last couple of posts, I might as well acknowledge that ‘writing about writing’ is one of my threads.  I don’t know if every blogger is so drawn to writing as I am.  I mean, they have to like writing a little bit if they take the time to blog, right?  But do they feel the tug to get to the keys?  Do they feel refreshed and energized after they have found the way to order their thoughts in words on a screen?  Do they turn to the laptop to make sense of their chaos?

Because I do.  In fact, if I haven’t written in a while, I get a little cranky…all the thoughts get jammed up in my head, almost begging for a way to get out.

Now, you may be thinking to yourself, “Now, Kristin, I have met you and you certainly say a lot of words every time I am with you; doesn’t that do the same thing?”

Actually, no.  You’re right;  I do use a lot of words.  I like to fill up silent spaces when I am around other people.  In fact, I can’t seem to get myself to shut up.  But often those words aren’t deeply reflective or fully indicative of what is happening in my soul.  They may share insights I have gained through my prayer/Bible/writing, but they aren’t the way I typically get to the insights.

I have found that my best thinking and processing are done when I am quiet.  For instance, at this moment, I have been alone in my house for almost two hours.  I haven’t spoken a word to anyone other than dear old Chester, our golden retriever.  I ate some lunch, read the book of Hosea, wrote in my prayer journal, then turned to my blog.  I’m not entirely sure why, but this process of reading, praying, then writing, creates an openness through which my thoughts can order themselves and find a new expression.

Several years ago, before I entered this next chapter, I would go running every day after school.  I felt I needed that time to ‘download my day’.  While I ran, my stream of consciousness would sort out the moments and file them into folders for later use.  It was a useful transition from my day at school to my day at home.  However, I think all those years I was missing a step.  I rarely sat down in silence to open the folders, reflect on their contents, and find meaning from the moments.

I am taking the time now.

See what happens when you “write anyway”?

Psalm 34:8

Oh, Taste and see that the Lord is good!

Blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him!

 

 

 

Try Waiting in Silence

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

I don’t usually know what I am going to write about before I sit down.  Today’s no exception.  I find the time in my day and then sit down at my desk.  I read a devotion and then start moving my fingers over the keys.  Today, my devotional book, Beth Moore’s Whispers of Hope, which I am reading through for the second time, directed me to Psalm 62.  I read the Psalm and then turned to what Beth had written about it.  About half way through her page, she told me to go back to scripture and read aloud verses 1-2 and 5-8.  If you are so inclined, you could read them aloud right now:

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from Him comes my salvation.  He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from Him.  He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.  On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Since, as of yesterday, I am getting back to writing my blog, perhaps this verse is a fitting reminder of where I started eighteen months ago. I had just committed to taking six months to be still and wait.  I, a self-proclaimed butt-kicking, name-taking soldier, had agreed to put down my weapons for a season in order to recover from some battle wounds.

In fact, if you recall, my injuries had rendered me useless to the soldiering business.  I hadn’t surrendered willingly, but had been pulled from battle per executive order.  I would like to say I left kicking and screaming, but in reality, by the time that I was summoned from my position, I was too exhausted to utter much more than a whimper of acknowledgement.

I was plunked down in this little house by the river with a laptop, my Bible, and nothing but time. If you’ve been reading with me for the past eighteen months, you know that my journey to recovery has been slow and circuitous. I have made progress in fits and starts, proving, time and again, that I am no longer fit for battle.

Nor was I ever intended to be. I wasn’t called to fight or conquer or even defend.  I was called to wait in silence.  I was called to run to my refuge, seek my shelter, and find my salvation in the Rock.

Now, it might seem that seeking shelter means taking myself out of the war entirely.  Not true.  I can enjoy shelter in the midst of chaos, in the midst of trial, in the midst of downright warfare.  I won’t be oblivious to the turmoil that surrounds me, but I will be safe, secure, and held.

For a very long time, I thought it was my job to keep peace, to quiet cries, and to overcome the enemy.  And, boy did I try.  And fail.  In fact, I would say that my efforts to fight battles that were not mine actually caused more harm than good — to myself and others because the battles were not mine; the war is already won.

That’s why I have permission to wait in silence.   If I am busy soldiering on, I miss the action.  But if I watch and wait, I “see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13).  How do I know this? Because I’ve been seeing it.

I wonder if in your stillness you are seeing it to….

Back at it

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

When I started this blog about eighteen months ago, I had every intention of writing every single day.  I had read in Stephen King’s On Writing that he required himself to write 2000 words each morning before he allowed himself to do anything else.  That’s a lot of words. His theory was that the exercise of writing itself would produce better writing.  And, I mean, it has worked out pretty well for him, hasn’t it?  So, agreeing with his premise, I purposed to write every morning before I did anything else.

For the first six months, that writing was my anchor.  That, and exercise, and all the other healthful routines I built into my life for this Next Chapter.  The anchors were critical to my well-being.  I hadn’t yet made many friends here in Ann Arbor.  I wasn’t working.  We didn’t have a church family.  I needed those anchors to bring order and sanity to my days.

The bonus, of course, was that I had created a venue through which to process all my thoughts about the major move we had made and all the transitions it involved.  And, the unintended benefit was that I was also able to see, through my writing, all that had transpired during the soldiering years. This writing, this daily discipline, had become a pouring out of my soul in the presence of many witnesses — a confessional that provided deep healing.  So, I continued writing.

When I started tutoring last January, I was still able to maintain my daily writing, my exercise regimen, and my weekly Bible study.  It wasn’t until April, when I went back to work on a more regular schedule that something had to give.  And, as in the past, those healthful routines were the first things to go.  I let go of my regular exercise and instead tried to fit in a walk every now and then.  I stopped going to my weekly Bible study because it met during the day. My blogging became more sporadic while I learned to juggle work with family and sleep.

Even so, I was still able to find time for my personal Bible study and blogging at least a couple times of week.  This routine continued to anchor me and provide a venue for all the change that was happening inside of me — the learning, the healing, the growing.  And, in fact, I have been able to add back the other disciplines over time, too.

So I get to a day like today, where I look back and see that I have not blogged (or done personal Bible study) in seventeen days, and I say, “What’s up? For what have you abandoned this discipline? What have you decided was more important than this daily breath that centers you and allows you to process emotion? Have you been soldiering?”

Well, not exactly.  But kind of.  I mean, it is December — the month of parties, and semester finals, and travel, and gifting, and preparing.  So everyone has been busier than they were just a month ago.  And, yes, I have tutored more in the last four weeks than I have all year.  I have edited countless papers, met with more than a dozen different students, and graded close to one hundred essays.  I’ve gone to weekly physical therapy, and two doctor appointments.  I’ve exercised, socialized, cooked, crafted, and shopped til I dropped.

So, it’s time.  It’s time to get back to the discipline that orders my thoughts. It’s time to be still and breathe.  It’s time to get back to my writing.

 

[I] proclaim to you what [I] have seen and heard,…  [I] write this to make [my] joy complete.

I John 1: 3, 5 Rathje Revised Version

Next ChapterS

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

A while ago someone suggested that I change the title of my blog since I was already in the Next Chapter — I should get settled and live in it. I thought about that, and I almost changed it.  But, you know, I am beginning to think that life is a series of next chapters.  I know, I know, this is not a new metaphor.  I’ve even used it before in this blog (My Life is a [fairly] Open Book)!  I wouldn’t want to overuse it, but I’m thinking, if it’s a good metaphor, it’s a good metaphor, right?

I love books. My idea of bliss is a day with no commitments, a steady rain, a warm cuppa in one hand, and a satisfying book in the other.  I love to get lost in story, to meet characters, to see their crises, and to watch them resolve — or not. And why do I like this?  I mean, most of the books that I read are not true….

I’m wondering if it has something to do with wondering about my own story.  I mean I am many, many chapters into this book, but I have no idea what is coming next.  The Author keeps creating plot twists and introducing new characters.  And then, just when I think we have moved on from one plot line, there it is again!  And characters that I thought I’d left way back in chapter thirteen or fourteen show up in chapter forty-seven — and they have changed!!

In books there may be plot twists, but they are confined within a boundary of 200 or 300 or, ok, 700 pages.  If I keep reading long enough, I will find out what happens in the end. 

That’s going to happen in my own story, too, I know…but I’m not very anxious to get to the end. So, even though I’d like some closure, I don’t really want closure.  You know what I mean?

I don’t know about you, but there are a few books I have read over and over again, even though I know how they are going to end!  What’s up with that?  It’s the same way with movies!  I will never get tired of watching Sweet Home Alabama or The Shawshank Redemption. Never.

Yet there are many chapters in my own story that I wouldn’t want to think about again, let alone  see again.  I think it’s safe to say that middle school is one of those chapters. Now, I wouldn’t reliving the births of each of my babies again — really, I’m serious.  What scenes those were — true miracles right from my own pages. I wouldn’t mind rewriting a few chapters, though, especially those where I was cranky, or selfish, or just plain mean. But the pages in life’s book only turn one way.

So, I moved to Michigan over a year ago to start a new chapter.  Am I still in the same one? I have no idea, I can’t make out the page numbers.  I am enjoying the story. The characters continue to amaze me.  The plot has its ups and down and even a few twists and turns to keep it interesting.

So, maybe I should change the title after all.  I could call it Kristin’s Next ChapterS. Nah, I’ll stick with what I’ve got.

Jeremiah 29:11 Rathje Revised Version

For I know what’s on the next page, and it’s nothing to be afraid of,

I’ve been planning good things for you, and the end of the story has already been written.

Midnight Stream of Conciousness

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

It’s the busiest week of the whole summer — thirty-one hours at the agency, five hours of private tutoring, a job change over the weekend, then a cross-country trip to get the girls settled into their first apartment.  So why am I up at 1:00 am? Probably because it’s the busiest week of the whole summer — thirty-one hours at the agency, five hours of private tutoring, a job change over the weekend, then a cross-country trip to get the girls settled into their first apartment.

It’s exciting!  So much is happening!  But, guys, I really need some sleep!

Just one week ago I accepted an adjunct position to teach developmental composition and reading right here on our little campus by the river.  How much quainter could it be than walking down the path to the same classroom building where I studied English thirty years ago to teach down the hallway from one of my most esteemed professors?  It’s the stuff of dreams.

And the girls —  moving into an apartment together in Boston, each with a new adventure and all types of possibility. We’re loading up their belongings and helping them set up their next chapter one week from today!

We’re just off a weekend trip to see one son, his wife, and their precious daughter, and still smiling from a phone conversation with the other son earlier this evening. My husband is knee-deep in welcome week and loving the challenges and opportunities of his position.  We are living in the land of answered prayer.  So, why am I not sleeping?

It’s partly my fault.  I wasn’t going to take a 6pm student today, but I did.  That meant I didn’t get home until 7:30.  Then I ate dinner, talked to the family, watched some Netflix, and settled down to read around 10.  I read just one chapter, really, just one.  I turned out the light, tried to get comfortable, and willed myself to sleep.

Then, the details started marching through my mind — Don’t forget to book a hotel.  When are you going to give that student feedback on his essay?  Will you have time to put the package in the mail on Friday, or will it have to wait until Saturday? Oh, but Saturday is already booked, then again, so is Sunday.  It’s ok, you’ll have time to complete the syllabus before Monday morning.  You’ll have all the details ironed out for the first class.  Seriously, you’ve taught this stuff dozens of times.  You’ve got this.  But, wait, what are you wearing tomorrow? Will you have time to get gas?  Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now? 

After almost an hour of that, I got up, booked the hotel, managed some email, and read a little more.  Guys, I read pamphlets about safety on campus, and Title IX…  Surely that should put me to sleep, right?

I wandered back to bed, tucked myself in, closed my eyes, got in my most comfortable position, and then my eyes popped open insistently.

Seriously?

Well, you could blog, you know.  I mean, it’s been over a week.  Don’t you want to process all the things that are happening right now?  Document them? Give them an outlet?  You know you’ll sleep a lot better after you do. 

I’m trying to sleep here.

You could write about the fact that it’s the busiest week of the summer and here you are up in the middle of the night. 

Sigh. Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.

It’s not terrible to be up in the middle of the night.  I’ve had a moment to recognize how blessed we are. I’m thinking I’ll wander back to bed now and give it another try.

Psalm 4:8

I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.

So much happens (and doesn’t) in a week

~ Kristin ~ Leave a comment

So much happens in a week, doesn’t it?  Although I was in the habit of blogging every day, I have found in the last several weeks that even if I write whenever I have a free chunk of time, I only fit in about once a week.  While the discipline of daily blogging provides the volume of writing that is sure to hone my craft, the necessity of weekly blogging makes me carefully consider what is going to get my time.

So what should I choose to write about?

  • One of the ten or more students that I met within the last week?
  • The Supreme Court’s decision on Gay Marriage?
  • The Controversy over the Confederate flag?
  • Seeing extended family at a funeral?
  • Welcoming my son home for his leave from the military?
  • Attending a worship service with hundreds of Lutherans at the Michigan District Convention?
  • The storm that flooded the basement in our home in Missouri?
  • The tomatoes and kale that are growing in my yard?
  • Or one of any number of other events that took place in the past week?

Although I often mention my students in my writing, I try to stay away from too much detail so as to preserve their confidentiality. Countless Americans have weighed in on the Supreme Court decision, slightly fewer have commented on the Confederate flag; I’m sure I won’t add to that discussion.  Seeing family was priceless, but I am not sure I can capture the meaning of the connection between cousins, that spans time and distance, in mere words.  The news of my son’s visit is pasted all over my Facebook page; it doesn’t need to be in my blog, too.

The worship service in Concordia’s chapel, in which hundreds of voices sang a cappella in harmony, was beautiful. Our house was preserved from devastating damage during a severe storm, Praise God. And, guys, my brown thumbs are growing things! But, I’m not sure I want to write about any of that, either!

So perhaps it would be best if I write about what didn’t happen this week.

  • I didn’t become bored with teaching; I am still enjoying every minute — from editing, to grammar instruction, to practicing sight words, to (gasp!) math.
  • My love for the freedoms we enjoy in America did not change, nor did my love for all of God’s people.
  • I didn’t suddenly decide that people who have the right to free speech should be insensitive to the meanings that words and symbols communicate to others.
  • I was not disappointed in the love exchanged between my family members.
  • I did not turn away when my daughter, who hadn’t seen her brother in eighteen months, leapt into his arms at the airport. Nor did I look away when he held her and hugged her back.
  • I was not unimpressed by the beauty of hundreds of voices lifted in praise.
  • I did not panic when the property manager called to inform us of the damage from the flooding.
  • I did not kill any plants.
  • I didn’t spend the time I like to spend in Bible study and prayer,
  • and,  God did not stop being faithful to me.

And there is the nugget, ladies and gentlemen.  Amid work and politics, family farewells and reunions, worship and loss, growth and failure, God is still God.  He is still faithful.  He still reigns.  Nothing we do or don’t do will ever change his character or consistency.  He is with us; we have nothing to fear.

And nothing formed against me shall stand
You hold the whole world in Your hands
I’m holding on to Your promises

You are faithful

-Chris Tomlin