Fiction Prompts #5: Brave

Hello, friends! Tanner's prompt for today is Brave.

Andi's first day of being a teacher was the most exciting day of her life. To be sure, she was clumsy and awkward and second-guessed herself a lot, but she enjoyed herself and knew, without a doubt in her mind, that this was where she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to be doing.

Her first day at her second call was a little different.

She was excited, definitely. She was teaching the same grade as she did before, which helped her confidence level a bit. But it was a new city, school, classroom, and experience. She didn't entirely believe she was where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to be doing.

When she arrived at her new school that first morning, she found an envelope on her desk. Inside was a piece of Dove chocolate and a simple notecard that read, "God's blessings on your first day!" It was signed with her principal's name.

Andi sat down and took a look around.

Her classroom theme was dolphins. She had painstakingly decorated each bulletin board and student desk. Her white board already had the day's assignments listed on it for her children to copy down. She needed to power up her Smartboard and laptop and get ready to start the day.

She looked at the notecard again, propped it up against a mug full of pencils.

"I can do this," she told herself.

Fiction Prompts #3: Through It All

Hello, friends! Tanner's prompt for today is Through It All.

"Can we just fast-forward a few years?" Andi asked. "Maybe by then, this will have all worked out."

Daisy tossed a pillow at her. Andi didn't get her hands up in time to catch it; it hit her square in the face. "Hey!" she protested. "I'm having a crisis here, why are you throwing things at me?"

"Nothing else has worked," her friend told her frankly. "I thought maybe that would snap you out of it."

"'Snap me out of it'?" Andi sat up and glared at her friend. "I don't need to be 'snapped out of it.' I need a job!"

"I know, honey." Daisy shrugged. "And I know how hard this is. But you need to move forward somehow, and sitting here wanting to make it all go away is not actually going to make it all go away."

"Wouldn't that be great, though?" Andi managed to duck the pillow this time. "Okay, okay, fine. Tell me, O wise woman. What will make this all go away?"

"Nothing." Daisy snagged one of the pillows back and put it behind her head. "Other than time, maybe, but we can't sit around and wait for it. So you don't have a call yet? Find something else - not even necessarily a job, just something - that you find fulfilling in the meantime. You can't just sit here in my apartment, as much fun as that is. And I know you. You need something to do if you want to feel better."

Andi didn't say anything for a moment as she considered this. Finally she said, "It's almost illegal for you to know me this well."

"Through thick and thin, Andi," Daisy replied. "Now let's brainstorm."

Fiction Prompts #2: New

Hello, friends! Tanner's prompt for today is "New."

Andi knew exactly how her life was going to play out.

Step 1: Go to college. (Check.)

Step 2: Acquire her teaching degree. (Check.)

Step 3: Receive a call to teach at a Lutheran school. (Check.)

Step 4: Teach at that school for at least 10 years. 

Step 5: While at that school, meet that special someone and get married.

Steps 1, 2, and 3 were complete, but for several months now, she'd had this nagging feeling in the back of her mind about Steps 4 and 5.

The school board meeting had just confirmed it.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She dug it out and tried to smile at the name on the screen. "Hey, Daisy."

"Hey, girl. How was your meeting? You said you'd call afterwards."

Andi sighed. "I didn't - I couldn't - I'm still sitting in my car outside school. I haven't made it home yet."

"Why not? What happened?"

Daisy was her confidant, her best friend from college, the one person Andi knew would never let her down, but it was still so hard to say it. "They let me go."

"They did what?" Daisy demanded. "I will fly down there right now-"

"Daisy, it's okay," Andi told her, wiping her eyes. "It's not their fault."

"The hell it isn't!"

"The school has to downsize." Andi sniffed. Did she have tissues in the car somewhere? She rooted around in the glove compartment as she continued, "I was the teacher with the least seniority, and they had to combine third and fourth grade. Dan was the logical choice to teach it. I don't blame them."

"I do! From what you've told me, Dan is a-"

"He's a perfectly fine teacher," she protested weakly. "Even if he's kind of a jerk."

"Oh, Andi, I'm so sorry." 

"Thanks."

There was silence for a moment. Andi found some Taco Bell napkins and used them to blow her nose.

"So what now?" Daisy asked.

"I don't know." Andi shook her head. "My principal said she would work with the district to help me find a new call. But that could take months."

"You're still on contract through the end of the year, right?"

"Right."

"So you've got a month. Great! They couldn't make this decision in January, when you'd have had plenty of time to look for something..."

"I know."

Andi put her car into reverse, then slammed it back into park. "This was my dream, damn it all," she said, trying not to sob. "What am I supposed to do now? What if this wasn't God's plan for me after all?"

"Hey. Hey, take a breath, okay? We're going to figure this out." 

"I know." Andi laid her forehead on the steering wheel. "I just wish we didn't have to."

"I know, honey, I know." Daisy paused, then asked, "What's that ice cream place you took me to last time?"

"Um, it's called Harry's."

"Okay. Go there, get a pint of the mint chip, and call me when you get home. Okay?"

"That's a lot of effort."

"I know. But it's a step. You'll get home, you'll have ice cream, you'll have a plan for what to do next. And then we can come up with the next step. Even if that step is just what you're going to wear tomorrow." Andi drew in a breath to speak, but Daisy wasn't done. "I know you've got your five-step plan for your life, but life is about coming up with new plans when things go sideways. It sucks that we have to. But your new plan is going to be even better, Andi. Count on it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now I'm going to hang up, and you're going to call me back when you have ice cream. Deal?"

Andi smiled. "Deal."

Fiction Prompts #1: Continue

Hello, friends! I've decided to do something a little different to start out the New Year. Instead of using Tanner Olsen's latest prompts to write reflective blog posts, I'm going to use them to write some short fiction stories. Enjoy!

Today's prompt is "Continue."

Andi was packing

- or, at least, she was going through stuff, which wasn't exactly the same as packing.

She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by piles: keep, toss, donate. So far, keep was winning by a wide margin. After all, how could she part with her third-grade self-portrait that portrayed her with shockingly large eyes and a tiny nose?

Maybe her mother had a point about her hoarding tendencies.

Shaking her head, she turned to the next box. Old crayons, toss. Although she could turn them into... no, don't tempt yourself with projects you'll never complete, she thought. Next she found a crushed mobile that once looked like falling snowflakes, which she attempted to reanimate before giving up and putting it into the toss pile too. 

Ten minutes later, she had added only two things to the keep pile, and she was at the bottom of the box. Andi was about to break it down when she noticed a wrinkled slip of paper stuck to the cardboard. "Hmm, what's this?" she wondered aloud, holding it up to the light. It read:

"My best friend's name is Andi,

And I think she's sweet as candy.

She's got dark brown hair and eyes to match.

In softball she's always down to catch.

She works hard and plays hard too.

She'll cheer you up if you feel blue.

No matter what, she'll always be there,

And she'll show you that she cares.

She loves her cats, her dogs, and me.

The best of friends we'll always be!"

It was signed,

"Love, your best friend forever, Erin Calloway."

"I remember this," she whispered. It had been an assignment in fifth grade. They had to pick a person and write a rhyming poem about them. She had picked her best friend Erin, and Erin had picked her. Andi had been so sure that Erin would pick someone else; her self-confidence was as low then as it was now. But Erin had picked her, and she’d been so excited about it.

Erin Calloway hadn't crossed Andi’s mind in ages. She moved away after fifth grade, and writing letters just wasn't the same as seeing each other every day. They fell out of touch pretty quickly.

She smoothed the paper in her lap and re-read the poem. "Ha, softball, " she muttered. "That didn't last long."

However, it was interesting to read that some of the things Andi held as important now, were important to her back then, too.

"She'll cheer you up if you feel blue.

No matter what, she'll always be there,

And she'll show you that she cares."

She wondered what she had written about Erin, and whether that still held true for her as well.

Andi was about to move to a new city and start her first "real" job after college. She vacillated between confidence and terror. How was she supposed to teach children when she was definitely not yet a competent adult? How was anyone trusting her with this?

But the answer was right there in the poem.

Cheer them up when they feel blue.

Be there, and show them that you care.

If she just continued doing those things, she would probably be okay.

Carefully, she added Erin's poem to the keep pile.

She could hang it up in her classroom, right next to her favorite quote about teaching: 

"What a teacher is, is more important than what he teaches." - Karl Menninger

Playlist Prompt #19: "Even If It Breaks Your Heart"

Hello, friends! Today's prompt, courtesy of Zach, is the song "Even If It Breaks Your Heart" by the Eli Young Band.

Not-so-fun fact: after moving to Wisconsin last September, I wrote a memoir of sorts about my time in Oklahoma. From the title, "Church Work Sucks," can you guess what the overall mood of my writing was?

Let me tell you - I thought that place broke my heart for good. I didn't want to dream anymore. I didn't even want to think about church work, at all, ever. I had a mild anxiety attack a few months after moving because someone was excited to learn that I had once been a DCE and wanted to talk about it. I did not want to talk about it, but it felt like every little thing reminded me of it, and it was truly depressing. I was sure there was something wrong with me, and that I would never feel free enough to follow my dream again.

The song says it, though - some dreams never go away entirely, no matter what kind of experiences you've had with them.

"Some dreams stay with you forever / drag you around but bring you back to where you were / Some dreams keep on getting better / Gotta keep believing if you want to know for sure."

I thought I'd lost the ability to dream, but as it turns out, my dreams were just evolving a bit. As a DCE, I'd wanted to impact the lives of young people and help them find their place in God's story. I am still doing that. I am still following that dream.

I am not "just a teacher's aide," as I tend to self-deprecatedly describe myself. I am a teacher's aide, a dedicated aide for a fourth grader with special needs, someone who matters in the grand scheme of things, who is making a difference each and every day. That's all I've ever dreamed about. My heart isn't broken after all - sometimes I feel like the Grinch on Christmas, with my heart growing three sizes every day. I never thought I'd feel that way again. I was wrong, and I am so glad.

Thor and the Question of Worthiness

Hello, friends!

I know, I know: I'm a little late to the party. But bear with me. I recently watched Avengers: Endgame, and holy cow, it was awesome and I need to talk about it. I knew a ton of spoilers going in (including the two major deaths) and I still found myself surprised and delighted at every turn. It was so much more fun and meaningful than I expected.

By far, the character that I related to the most was the God of Thunder himself, Thor. On the surface, I have almost nothing in common with Thor. He's a super-powerful, 1,500-year-old alien king and I am... not. But that's the wonderful things about movies. I can look at Thor in Endgame and say, "I know how you feel."

Thor blames himself for all the people murdered by the villainous Thanos. His failure to protect them affects him on a deeply personal level. He gives up hope. He goes from self-confident and strong to fearful, anxious, and shaky. He truly believes that he is no longer worthy of anything.

During the movie, Thor goes back in time and talks to his mother, who has since died. He tells her that he feels like an idiot and a failure. Here is her reply:

"An idiot? No. A failure? Absolutely. Do you know what that makes you? Just like everyone else. Everyone fails at who they're supposed to be, Thor. The measure of a person, of a hero, is how well they succeed at being who they are."

Then comes the part that has replayed in my head over and over. Thor puts out his hand and summons his hammer. He knows that it will only come to him if he is truly worthy of it, and there's no doubt that part of him doesn't know if it will come. When it appears in his hand, he is elated. "I'm still worthy!" he exclaims.

Failure feels very big and scary and insurmountable to us at times. I know I feel unworthy all the time because of what I went through in Oklahoma. I blame myself, rightly or wrongly, and it's difficult to move past it. Sometimes that feeling of unworthiness - I had a calling and I screwed it up and what's even the point of trying anymore - is overwhelming.

But there are a couple of things in that quote from Thor's mother that comfort me.

I am not alone in my failure. I am just like everyone else, going all the way back to Adam and Eve.

I am who I am and the way I am for a reason, and that reason is not to live up to everyone's expectations, including my own.

When Thor summons his hammer and it comes, it proves that he is still worthy despite everything, because his worth was never about his accomplishments or lack thereof. His worth was about who he was. In the same way, my worth is not about my accomplishments. I am not defined by what I do. I am defined by who I am - a child of God, redeemed by Christ's acts and not my own. Nothing I do or fail to do can take that worth away.

I often talk about how what I know in my head is not always how I feel in my heart. I know all of this. It isn't new to me. But I have trouble applying it to myself. When I see storylines like this on screen - look, the big strong hero isn't always big and strong, and that's okay - it helps. So thank you, Avengers: Endgame, for making me feel worthy again.

5 Years Ago, and 5 Years from Now

Hello, friends! I'm back with another blog post inspired by you guys. Today I'm responding to the prompt: "a letter to myself 5 years ago and 5 years from now." Thanks, Sarah!

...

Dear Mary from 5 years ago,

Remember University Lutheran? You left it just 9 days ago, but after 5 years, it's still a place I long to return to. Hold those memories close to you. Hold those people close to you. They're precious.

I know it seems like waiting for a call is the most painful thing that can happen to you. Trust me - it's not. I'm not saying this to scare you; I just want you to savor the time you have right now to just be. Spend time with your friends. Cuddle your new nephew. Pray. Read. Study. God's got a plan, and it's okay that you don't right now. It's going to be awhile before you're able to "just be" again. So as much as you can with an unknown future hanging over you... enjoy it.

You have big dreams. That's a good thing. Dreams are healthy. But you could use a healthy dose of caution, too. When that call comes - and I promise, it will come - jump in feet first, but keep your eyes wide open. Don't assume you can do everything, or fix everything, or be everything. You can't. You're not supposed to be able to. Don't let anyone tell you differently, including yourself.

I'm not going to tell you details, but I will tell you this: things will get bad for awhile. Your friends will see you through. Nothing will happen as you expect it to, but you can trust that God knows what he's doing.

Never stop dreaming.

Never stop caring.

Remember you're never truly alone.

Love,

Mary

...

Dear Mary 5 years in the future,

I have so many questions.

Where are you?

What are you doing?

Do you have a husband? More kids? A dog? A house?

Honestly, right now, the question that would fulfill my dreams is: Are you no longer worried about making enough money to pay rent? Because that would be fantastic.

As I'm sure you remember, 2020 has been insane thus far. We're only halfway through the year! Dare I hope that the second half of the year is calmer?

Insane as it's been, though, I'm so glad I've spent it in Milwaukee. Maybe 5 years from now, you're emotionally stable enough to be okay more than 30 minutes from your friends, but I am certainly not right now. And that's okay. I need them. They need me. And Tammy needs them, and they need Tammy. There's nothing quite like the support system my little family unit has right now.

Here's what I think is important for you to know 5 years from now:

Nothing bad is ever the end of the story. Something good is always around the corner. You might be in a hallway that's miles long, but the corner's coming. Have faith in God, in yourself, and in the people who care about you.

I desperately want to know where I'll be in 5 years. I really can't even begin to guess. But wherever it is... give yourself a pat on the back. You made it. Here's to another 5 years.

Please write back,

Mary

 

 

The End of the Decade

Hello, friends.

I'm going to do the stereotypical "it's the end of a decade" post here. Because it is! And it's interesting and informative to reflect back on what the last ten years have been.

In 2010, I turned 18 years old. I graduated high school in Iowa and moved to Wisconsin to begin my first year of college.

Since then, holy cow, a lot has happened.

I graduated college in 3 years.
I've had 9 different jobs and lived in 4 states.
I made a lot of new friends and lost touch with some old ones.
I've gained a sister-in-law and seriously cute godchildren.
I became a dog-mom, and then a foster mom, and then an adoptive mom.

The end of 2019 finds me recovering from following my dreams to Oklahoma. My recovery has led me to Milwaukee, with my wallet a little tighter than before, but my heart much fuller.

Looking back at who I was in 2010, I doubt I ever would have guessed what the next ten years would hold. I never thought my first church work job would be campus ministry in Florida. I would have been aghast to think that my first call would end so painfully. I hoped I'd find my husband by now.

So many things are different than I thought they would be, but that doesn't mean they're bad. I'm ending the decade on a good note, in a good place, with good friends. It may be a note I never would have predicted ten years ago, but it's a good note nonetheless.

Along the same lines, I have no guesses as to where I'll be in 2030. I'd like to see myself in a stable job, with a husband and maybe a few more kids (biological, adoptive, foster, whatever). That's as specific as I want to get. God will fill in the blanks. After all, He certainly did in the last ten years. I have faith that whatever He's got planned for the next ten will be equally surprising and ultimately good.

Gathering Reflections

Hello, friends. I'm writing to you from somewhere in Iowa. I'm on a bus with a crowd of teenagers with endless energy, even after they spent over a week in Minneapolis for the National Youth Gathering. "Bumblebee" is playing on the TV. My youth are sitting near me, telling terrible jokes. Here's one:

Why was the Mexican food silent?
Because it didn't want to tacobout it!

This week was a completely different experience than the last Gathering three years ago, even though almost half of my group was the same. We weren't as cohesive as my last group. We hadn't spent nearly as much time together before the trip, something I made a priority the last time. There were a lot more arguments the first few days, a lot more complaints and anxiety. A lot of that anxiety came from me, though I kept it mostly internal. I was constantly looking at what was happening and thinking to myself about how I could have done it better if I was better.

Oddly, it took two of my youth not feeling well to make me feel better. On two consecutive days, they came to me and told me they weren't feeling well. I dropped everything and took the afternoon each day to spend time with them one-on-one, finding quiet places to sit and help them calm down, drink water, and feel better. I listened to them. I made them laugh. I distracted them from the irritation and pain. They both tried apologizing, saying they felt bad that I had to babysit them, and I repeatedly assured them that not only was this my job, it didn't bother me in the slightest. I was happy to help them.

These experiences made me realize that even when I'm personally struggling with challenges in my life and faith, I can still be Jesus to those around me. When I am called upon, I respond. Sometimes I do it better than others, but that's always true. I love my youth, and when they need me, I'm there. No matter what.

If there comes a time, sooner or later, that I'm no longer at Redeemer, I'll miss these maniac teenagers like nobody's business. But I'll be able to leave them in peace, knowing two things: I have made a difference, and they won't be alone. They'll have their real, present God with them always. Just like I will.

Big News, Take 3

Hello, friends! Some of you might not be aware of the recent Big News around here, so allow me to announce to you:

Redeemer's vacancy is almost over! Our new pastor will be installed on February 10th!

Obviously, this is exciting stuff. The vacancy has been, well, let's be honest - miserable. I am very excited to have a full-time pastor on staff once again. I know him a little bit and think he'll be a good fit.

However, I have some shocking news for you: pastors, no matter how fantastic they are, can't do this church thing all on their own. They are only people, after all. People that God has chosen to work on his behalf, yes, but people nonetheless. Our new pastor is not going to come in on day one and take away all of Redeemer's issues. That's just not how this works.

So as his installation day approaches, I ask that you would pray not only for Pastor Schroeder, but for me and our congregation, that we may all work together to further the kingdom of God.

The Sixth Commandment in Light of #MeToo

Hello, friends.

I'll be honest - when I write blogs, especially about current events, a lot of the time it's for my benefit, not yours. I force myself to think more clearly and rationally when I'm planning to reveal my thoughts to the world. Today I'm motivated to write so that I can more clearly and rationally plan my Confirmation lesson for this afternoon. Normally, I'm not too worried about teaching Confirmation; it's one of my favorite things to do and I think I'm pretty good at it. However, today, I find myself intimidated by the topic: the Sixth Commandment.

You shall not commit adultery.

What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we lead a sexually pure and decent life in what we say and do, and husband and wife love and honor each other.

On the surface, this is pretty straightforward. Don't have sex outside of marriage and respect your spouse. Easy, right? Wrong. This is the first time I'll be teaching on the Sixth Commandment since the #MeToo movement gained traction, and I want to do it right. We in the church are far from immune to the enormous problem of sexual harassment and abuse. We can't ignore it. When we have the opportunity, we need to talk about it, plainly and openly and honestly. This seems like an opportunity. But how do I take it? How do I get my point across to my class? What is the point I want to get across, exactly?

In the latest version of Luther's Small Catechism, question 68 reads:

How do we fear and love God in keeping the Sixth Commandment?

We fear and love God by living as men and women who respect God's purposes for marriage. We do so by

A. treating our bodies as holy - set apart for the purposes for which God created us as male and female - and not as objects that serve our selfish desires;

Note: Human beings often violate God's purpose for them as male and female by engaging in sexual sins. This includes consensual sins such as fornication, pornography, and homosexual behavior. It also includes coercive sexual sins such as rape, incest, sexual child abuse, and other sexual assaults (which also violate the Fifth Commandment).

B. speaking and actions to one another as male and female in ways that build up rather than tear down (such as crude talk, derogatory comments about appearances, or immodest dress);

C. reserving sexual intercourse for marriage rather than before or outside of marriage;

D. refraining from lustful desire or activity of any kind, whether heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or otherwise; 

E. treasuring our husband or wife as a gift of God and loving him or her sacrificially.

Now my question becomes, "is it possible to address all of these issues in a single class period that isn't even solely devoted to this topic?" The answer to that is unequivocally "no." So then, what do I address? What do the young people in my class need to hear the most?

I currently have the website for MeToo pulled up on another tab. The tagline caught my eye: "You are not alone." If nothing else, that's what I hope to get across to my Confirmation class. The Sixth Commandment reminds us that we were created to be in community with one another. From the very beginning, God said, "It is not good that man should be alone" (Genesis 2:18). We are meant to interact with each other in loving, positive, respectful ways, sexually and otherwise.

This Commandment also reminds us that, outside of the Garden of Eden, we are never going to be able to do that perfectly. It calls us to repentance for our own failures, and it calls us to look after our fellow humans who have been harmed by people who break this Commandment. It calls us to listen. It calls us to report. It calls us to have compassion. And it reminds us that, just as we are not alone because of our fellow man, we are also not alone because of the Son of Man, Jesus, who fulfilled this Commandment and all the others when we could not.

The MeToo website reminds us that 17,700,000 women have reported a sexual assault since 1998. If there's any small part I can play in reducing the number of sexual assaults in our country, then I'm going to do it.

This is me, doing my small part.

I urge you all to find your small part to play.

Mary Magdalene and the Mental Health of Church Workers

Hello, friends. 

Back in March, I had to write an article for my church's monthly newsletter. I wasn't in a very good mood that day - in fact, I hadn't been having a particularly good month in general - so, I wrote about it. I described my feelings of general down-ness, and followed it up with the story of Mary Magdalene on Easter morning. She was also feeling down, like nothing was ever going to be all right again, but then Jesus literally came into the picture and changed everything. I ended my article with my assurance that Jesus would come into my picture and change everything, too.

The responses I recieved were largely secondhand. Some members of the congregation approached some leaders and asked if I was really that unhappy here. It didn't help my emotional state to learn that they appeared to consider my state of mind as a personnel issue, not a personal one - and to realize that they missed the big picture: my faith that Jesus would make all the difference. 

This week has been a tough one from the get-go, and it doesn't seem to be improving. Once again, today happened to be a day on which I needed to write a newsletter article. I considered for about thirty seconds the option of revisiting my March article. I ended up choosing a different topic, because I couldn't stomach the reactions I might get.

Talking about mental health is never easy, but it's made even more difficult as a church worker because we're not supposed to need these discussions. Even on an okay day, when I'm focused and feeling good, I have well-meaning people tell me to smile more, and you know what I do? I smile and nod and agree, because what else can I do? But inwardly, I'm shrinking even farther back into my shell, knowing that a conversation about why I'm not smiling more isn't welcome here. They want me to grin and bear it. No matter that vacancies are exceptionally stressful. No matter that when I ask, no, beg for help, I rarely receive it. No matter that I'm the senior called church worker after being a DCE for less than three years. No matter that, when our last pastor left, I had one less friend, confidant, babysitter in an already very sparse pool. Grin and bear it, Mary.

I'm not painting a picture of every person at Redeemer, of course. I have many wonderful people there who have honest and present concern for my well-being. But often, those people feel few and far between. 

In these situations, I always return to Mary Magdalene on Easter morning. When she needed him the most, Jesus appeared and said her name. Conveniently, her name is also my name, which is only one of the reasons I love this passage so dearly. I know that, on any given day, at every moment, despite anything that might be happening, Jesus is saying my name and reminding me that I am not alone. 

Answered Prayer

Hello, friends. I returned today from a very needed weekend away at OK'd in Christ, our high school district youth gathering. It was a blast, and I have so many stories, but there's one in particular I'd like to share that has very little to do with the gathering itself.

While at OK'd, one of the adult leaders came up to me and asked about my foster daughter. She remembered her from when she was a substitute teacher at an elementary school in Edmond. Since my daughter's in high school now, this was obviously several years ago. And keep in mind, this person was a substitute teacher, not even someone that my daughter would see regularly. This teacher could tell, even then, even with that limited amount of exposure to my daughter, that something was off in her life. She told me this weekend that seeing my daughter again, in such a context, and so obviously happy, was an answered prayer.

This isn't the first time someone has told me that. Last summer, at the First Friday event in downtown Enid, my daughter and I ran into another one of her old teachers, who told me much the same thing. I've had caseworkers and foster care workers who knew my daughter previously share similar sentiments with me. It didn't register any of those times, but it did this weekend: I'm the answered prayer. God chose to answer those prayers through me.

That's a strange concept for me, folks. Of course we talk about these things in theory, and always in the plural - God uses us to answer prayers, he chooses to do his work through us, that kind of thing - but it just really hit me while talking to this teacher: God chose me. Out of all the potential foster parents out there, out of all the avenues he could have chosen, he looked at my daughter's situation and said, "She needs Mary."

I'm not saying this to brag. Don't take this as me being conceited, because as I told this teacher over the weekend, "There's nothing particularly special about me that I'm able to do this. I'm still the kind of person who forgets to turn off the faucet and floods the kitchen accidentally. I'm just like everybody else, except I said yes." And of course, God could have worked through so many other people to be my daughter's foster parent. But the fact is that he didn't. He chose me.

Sometimes, I question why God would do such a thing. Why on earth he would choose someone who can't wake up on time or keep the kitchen clean, why he would look at a short, overweight, out-of-place Midwesterner who still plays Pokemon at the age of twenty-six and say, "This girl needs Mary and no one else." The funny thing is that, when God chose someone in particular in the Bible, they often asked that question, too. They looked at themselves, and then back at God, and essentially said, "Me? Really?" Let me quote some of them for you:

"Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth." -Jeremiah
"Please, Lord, how can I save Israel? Behold, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my father's house." -Gideon
"Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of God out of Israel? ...Oh, my Lord, please send someone else." -Moses

No one is good enough to be chosen by God. We all have inadequacies, limitations, pet sins, problems. And when God chooses us, our tendency is to panic, and ask, "Are you sure?" But God knows all of those things and chooses us anyway. Hear how he replied to Jeremiah and Gideon and Moses. It's very simple:

"I will be with you."

He says that to me, and to you, as well. We have all been chosen by God for something very specific. He looked at each one of us and said, "You are meant to do this - and I will be with you through it." Of course we are all meant to serve God and our neighbor, but he has chosen each and every one of us to do that in a particular way. For me, in this time, it's to be a foster parent. For you, it might be something different.

But I encourage you today to think about fostering. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not easy. I like to say that it's an adventure every day. That's a nice way of saying that it's a constant challenge. Fostering is hard. The kids in care have gone through more than I could have even imagined at their age, and it makes them hard to handle. There's a constant tension between "I feel so badly for you that I just want to spoil you" and "I need to discipline you because you are behaving badly." It's hard to find the balance.

But while it's difficult, it's also incredibly worth it. I've witnessed so much growth in the past almost two years. Despite all of my missteps and failures, despite all of the excuses she could have used to do otherwise, my daughter has grown in leaps and bounds. She's improved in school, in social skills, in self-esteem, in hygiene. She's made friends and gone to church camp and, most importantly, became a Drake basketball fan.

I'm just kidding (although that is true) - the most important thing is that her faith in God has evidenced itself everywhere I look. This weekend showed me that.

There's a certain stigma associated with fostering. I think most people automatically dismiss it before they even consider it. So my plea is this: give it some thought. You might be God's chosen person to change someone's life forever.

After all, it appears that I am. And that's the best feeling in the world.

A Different Kind of Love

Hello, friends.

As my daughter keeps reminding me, we're coming up on our second anniversary. She came to live with me on April 18th, 2016. She's much more of a planner than I am. "What are we going to do to celebrate?" Um, I don't know, that's still several months away, child...

Anyway, it's been about a year and a half since I first met my foster daughter. She's a joy and a terror, like I imagine most daughters are. (Pretty sure my parents would attest to that fact.) She's grown and matured an incredible amount since we met, but she's still, well, herself. And herself is enough to drive me mad at times.

Case in point: today, I asked her to clean her room. I managed to clean almost the entire rest of the house while she managed to clean almost nothing in her room. At about seven o'clock, I gave her two options: she could take the next hour and do some more work in her room, or she could have free time until it was time to shower, with the caveat that she would finish cleaning her room tomorrow AND help me clean the garage, thus having almost no free time at all tomorrow. She chose the latter, for reasons that I still don't really understand. Except I do, because I understand her. She can't see past the immediate future. She's just not ready for that kind of thinking yet.

Recently, a parent at church has been pushing me to discipline my daughter more. He's someone I know pretty well and have a lot of respect for, but it still irritates me, because he doesn't know our situation like I do. I feel like I discipline my daughter too much, that all I do is yell and give orders. She knows that I love her, but sometimes I feel like I don't show it very well. She requires a different kind of discipline and a different kind of love than this other parents' kids do. He means well, but he's irritating just the same.

At Midweek School this past Wednesday, I had three kids behave so badly in class that their teachers sent them to my office, saying they weren't allowed to come back that day. All three kids are related to one another. It's easy to get annoyed with them - this isn't the first time I've had them in my office, and no matter what we do or say to them, they just keep acting up. They're disrespectful. They don't listen. They think it's funny when their teachers send them out.

They drive me nuts, but my experience with my own daughter tells me that there's more to this story, and it's worth my time to learn it. These kids require a different kind of discipline and a different kind of love than the other Midweek kids do - and that's okay. It's my job as the DCE to work with their parents and figure out how to help these kids succeed. Despite everything, they're just kids. I won't give up on them just because they talk back to me. And I won't judge them without knowing them.

Learning from My Students

Hello, friends. I'm killing a bit of time before my weekly mentoring conversation with Pastor Jay, and I'm thinking about something he says occasionally: sometimes, the things we discuss for my benefit end up benefiting him as well.

I experienced the other side of that yesterday during Midweek school. One of my high school students is our first and second grade Midweek teacher. Yesterday, she taught her kids the difference between "porcupine words" and "puppy words." (Originally the book suggested the term "teddy bear words," but evidently she likes puppies better than teddy bears.) You can probably guess the difference: porcupine words are intended to hurt people and tear them down, while puppy words are intended to help people and build them up.

When I asked her how her class went, she said that the lesson went more quickly than she was expecting, so she had to improvise. She did this by asking her kids to think about someone at school that they don't like, and describe that person using puppy words instead of porcupine words. This proved to be pretty hard for them, so she used herself as an example and described someone she doesn't like using only puppy words.

Not only was I impressed with her on-the- fly idea, I was also convicted by her example, because that's not only hard for first and second graders - it's hard for me, too. It's no secret that there are people at church that I don't like. That's a fact of life at any congregation or workplace. So often, I find myself only thinking of those people in "porcupine words," and I find it nearly impossible to find anything good about them because I'm just so frustrated. But that's not what the Bible teaches, and that's not what the Catechism explains.

The Eighth Commandment:
"You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor."

What does this mean?
"We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way."

Here's to a renewed understanding of the Eighth Commandment, taught to me by someone I'm supposed to be teaching. These kind of moments remind me why I love my job so much.

Big News

Hello, friends. I have some big news for you - but said news isn't quite as exciting as the Big News of my call to Oklahoma. This big news is kind of scary. Pastor House, my supervisor from Redeemer and the alternative caregiver of my foster daughter, recently accepted a call to another church. He and his wife will be moving almost five hours away at the end of the month.

This situation is a weird combination of sadness and joy. The sadness, of course, comes from the fact that Pastor House has been a good supervisor and friend to me and a positive influence on my foster daughter. I will miss him and Audrey very much. The joy comes from the fact that God knows what he's doing, and clearly has a plan for both Pastor House and Redeemer. To use a cliche I usually avoid, when one door closes, another one opens.

I have a somewhat unusual prayer request during this time: please pray that Redeemer does not receive a new pastor soon.

The vacancy and call process will undoubtedly be stressful and busy for me, and selfishly, I want a new pastor ASAP. However, I don't think that's a good idea for Redeemer at this time. Our church, just like any other, needs time to regroup before it is ready to call another pastor. So please, pray that the leaders of Redeemer will be willing to take the time to do what is best for the congregation.

Super DCE to the Rescue

Not all heroes wear capes. Some of us wear dress pants and nice shirts. Or sometimes jeans and nice shirts. Occasionally shorts and t-shirts. I don't have a uniform, okay? I just don't wear a cape. I'm Super DCE, and I can do anything! The acolyte hasn't shown up yet? It's Super DCE with the save, recruiting another likely young person. The sound system isn't working? Not a problem for Super DCE – I'll just shout my children's message. There's a dog loose in the parking lot? Don't worry, I'll... wait, that's my dog. That's embarrassing.

It's not all fun and games for Super DCE, despite what most people think. Just to clear the air: Super DCE does not play with kids all day long, although I would probably enjoy that. At least for a week or so. Yeah, actually, Vacation Bible School once a year is enough to play with kids all the time. Have you ever led a Vacation Bible School? Can you say exhausting?

Speaking of exhausting, have you ever been to a National Youth Gathering? Let me tell you, Super DCE rocked that last National Youth Gathering. And then, after I got home, I immediately crashed. All of that counting was a struggle. I'm not good at math, you see, and I had to count my students constantly. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve... where's Alex??

Vacation Bible Schools and National Youth Gatherings are in my call documents, but Super DCE is actually in charge of all kinds of things. I am the guardian of the basketballs, the locker of doors, the fixer of computers, the organizer of the pantry, and the maker of the Sacrament of Coffee. The Pre-K Sunday school teacher doesn't show? Super DCE steps in with a storybook and crayons. The storage closet is a mess? Super DCE takes a day to go through every. single. bottle. of paint. Why do we have 75 bottles of paint? That is beyond the grasp of even Super DCE.

It often seems like it's always Super DCE to the rescue. No matter what the problem is, I end up trying to address it. There's infighting among the leaders of the church? Super DCE to the rescue! A building project is trying to get off the ground? Super DCE to the rescue! Someone is trying to pass a flawed budget? Super DCE to the rescue!

At the end of the day, though, I know that I'm not really the rescuer. Super DCE is great, but even heroes need a hero, and not one that wears a cape. My hero wears a crown of thorns. When Super DCE loses her temper, Jesus is there. When Super DCE is tired, Jesus is there. When Super DCE is out of ideas, Jesus is there. No matter how hard I try, Super DCE can't save the whole world – and that's okay. Jesus already did.

Focus

Hello, friends.

I have spent way too much time recently focusing on church politics. It is important to discuss the issues of the church and make decisions for the benefit of the congregation, but when I spend maybe half of my work week complaining about what's going on at church... that's too much. That's not why I'm at Redeemer.

My grandpa's funeral today reminded me of why I am at Redeemer. The service began with Psalm 23. The pastor pointed out that the last verse had been fulfilled for my grandpa: "I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." That's what my grandpa is doing now, and that's why I'm at Redeemer - so that when it comes times for the funerals of my kids and youth, the same will be known about them.

That's where my focus should be. That's where all of our focuses should be. It's time for all of us, at Redeemer and elsewhere, to put church politics aside and focus on the eternal goal.

What's Best for Me

Hello, friends.

On May 18th, 2013, I graduated from Concordia University - Wisconsin and was certified as a Lay Minister with specializations in Youth Ministry, Parish Teaching, and Missions. Boy, was I bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to take on the world! I just knew that I was going to get a call right away to do youth ministry at a church in the Midwest. I even told God that.

Per the usual, God listened to my plans and laughed and said, "No, I know what's best for you." First he sent me to YMCA summer camps; next, to Lutheran Services in Iowa; next, to UPS; next, to Panera Bread. All were in Iowa, and none of them were what I wanted. I was constantly angry with God, constantly asking why he was making me wait, why he was sending me to these places when I had learned and trained and practiced to be a lay minister.

In the spring of 2014, while I was randomly Googling variations of the phrase "Lutheran church work," I stumbled across the page for the Lutheran Campus Initiative. Let me tell you, I did not want to move to Florida. Florida is hot and sticky and not the Midwest. But per the usual, God listened to my concerns and laughed and said, "No, I know what's best for you." And he was right. I may have been doing campus ministry instead of youth ministry, but I was using and developing my ministry skills. I loved Florida in the end.

The LCI program lasted a year, from July 2014-2015. I returned home to Iowa after my missionary term ended and did my least favorite activity: waiting.

I waited for almost two months, and then, one morning, I woke up to a voicemail from my CUW advisor. He informed me that Redeemer Lutheran Church in Enid, Oklahoma was calling me to be their Director of Christian Education. I'm a naturally excitable person, but that morning was the most exciting one of my life. I jumped up and down and ran all the way through the house looking for my mom; when I didn't find her, I called my dad at work to tell him the news. It turned out that my mom was in the shower, so as soon as she got out, I made her listen to the voicemail. I called friends and celebrated and generally made a nuisance of myself because I was so happy. A call! I had a call! I finally had a call!

The call process took awhile. It wasn't until the day after my birthday that I received my placement papers in the mail. I took the weekend to consider and then put the signed papers in the mail on Monday. Then I packed, and celebrated, and packed, and celebrated, and so on and so forth. My parents helped me move near the end of September.

I'm remembering all of these things today because one year ago, I was commissioned as a lay minister in the LCMS. My entire journey - beginning long before May 2013 - led me to that point. No, let me rephrase that. God led me through my entire journey to that point, and he is still leading me now. I can look back at those jobs in the interim between college and now and see why I had to have them. Could I have been ready for a call in May 2013? Sure, but I was more ready in October 2015. What's more, Redeemer was ready for me in October 2015.

I've learned many things in the past year, but the most important lesson has been this: God knows what he's doing, and he sent me to this place at this time for a reason. He truly does know what's best for me.

A Year and a Day Ago

Hello, friends.

A year and a day ago, I moved to Enid, Oklahoma. So much has changed, but one thing has not:

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." (Hebrews 13:8)

Even as I grow in my career and my personal life, even as I am DCE Mary during the day and Mom when school gets out, even as I learn who "Mary" really is, I know that my God is the same as He was when I lived in Urbandale, and Mequon, and Tallahassee. My location has changed, my position has changed, my relationships have changed, but my God has not.

What else is there to say?