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.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Quiet
Hello, friends.
I'm lying on my couch typing on my tablet in the dark. It's about as quiet as my house ever gets; usually my daughter has music turned up loud or I'm watching an episode of a tv show. Right now, all I can hear is the tapping of my fingers on the screen.
Quiet is something I've had a lot of recently. Quiet at work with only me in the office, quiet at home because I've felt too ill to do anything. But there is no quiet inside my head. Internally, I feel like I'm screaming all the time. The pressure to be perfect, to appear strong when there is so much turmoil everywhere I look, is overwhelming. I can't handle it on my own. But it often feels like I have nowhere to turn.
This past Monday, I realized that the pressure was getting to me. I wasn't eating or sleeping. I was constantly nauseous and exhausted. I couldn't concentrate on anything. Everything made me frustrated. I decided that there was no point to prolonging the inevitable, so I went to the doctor and he prescribed me some medicine to help control my stress. He said to give it ten days to start having an effect. I'll see if it does. Anything has to be better than how I still feel at the moment.
I didn't want to admit this. The fact that I need medical help to control my stress made me feel ashamed - at first. But the fact is that we all need help sometimes. It isn't a bad thing. And recognizing that is the first step.
There was one other thing that made me feel ashamed. What right did I have to be so stressed when so many people have it worse off than I do? But that's not a useful way to think, either. My problem may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn't make it any less legitimate.
I guess my point is this: it's okay to admit to not being okay.
I'm lying on my couch typing on my tablet in the dark. It's about as quiet as my house ever gets; usually my daughter has music turned up loud or I'm watching an episode of a tv show. Right now, all I can hear is the tapping of my fingers on the screen.
Quiet is something I've had a lot of recently. Quiet at work with only me in the office, quiet at home because I've felt too ill to do anything. But there is no quiet inside my head. Internally, I feel like I'm screaming all the time. The pressure to be perfect, to appear strong when there is so much turmoil everywhere I look, is overwhelming. I can't handle it on my own. But it often feels like I have nowhere to turn.
This past Monday, I realized that the pressure was getting to me. I wasn't eating or sleeping. I was constantly nauseous and exhausted. I couldn't concentrate on anything. Everything made me frustrated. I decided that there was no point to prolonging the inevitable, so I went to the doctor and he prescribed me some medicine to help control my stress. He said to give it ten days to start having an effect. I'll see if it does. Anything has to be better than how I still feel at the moment.
I didn't want to admit this. The fact that I need medical help to control my stress made me feel ashamed - at first. But the fact is that we all need help sometimes. It isn't a bad thing. And recognizing that is the first step.
There was one other thing that made me feel ashamed. What right did I have to be so stressed when so many people have it worse off than I do? But that's not a useful way to think, either. My problem may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but that doesn't make it any less legitimate.
I guess my point is this: it's okay to admit to not being okay.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
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.
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.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Sibling Story Time
Hello, friends. Gather around, for it is story time.
Ten years and a few months ago, my brother and I got into a big fight. This came as a surprise to exactly no one who knew us. Zach and I had a love-hate relationship that often leaned heavily towards the hate side. I have no idea what the fight was about, but I do distinctly remember that I was so mad that I decided to count down the days until he was going to move to college. I kept it up for over a hundred days. (I was recently reminded of this because it keeps popping up as a memory on Facebook!)
Fast-forward to this past Monday and Tuesday. My foster daughter and I made the trek to Marion to visit Zach, Lindsey, and Kylen. I emphasized to many people before we left that we were going to see Kylen, and there would probably be other people there, but my adorable two-year-old nephew was the priority. It's true, I did spend a disproportionate amount of time spoiling the little guy, but I also spent a lot of time talking with Zach. This has led me to a shocking conclusion:
I actually like my brother a lot.
There, I said it.
There's something unique about the bond between brother and sister. Like I said earlier, we used to argue constantly, but despite all that, there was never a time that we didn't love each other. I think it's only in the last several years that we've honestly started liking each other. I'm glad for the change, big bro. Thanks for being a role model for me. Thanks for talking through everything from taxes to parenting with me. You're an incredible father and husband and yes, brother - as much as the me of ten years ago would never believe it. Now, instead of counting down the days until you leave, I'm counting down the days until I can see you again.
And Kylen. Because he's cuter than you.
Ten years and a few months ago, my brother and I got into a big fight. This came as a surprise to exactly no one who knew us. Zach and I had a love-hate relationship that often leaned heavily towards the hate side. I have no idea what the fight was about, but I do distinctly remember that I was so mad that I decided to count down the days until he was going to move to college. I kept it up for over a hundred days. (I was recently reminded of this because it keeps popping up as a memory on Facebook!)
Fast-forward to this past Monday and Tuesday. My foster daughter and I made the trek to Marion to visit Zach, Lindsey, and Kylen. I emphasized to many people before we left that we were going to see Kylen, and there would probably be other people there, but my adorable two-year-old nephew was the priority. It's true, I did spend a disproportionate amount of time spoiling the little guy, but I also spent a lot of time talking with Zach. This has led me to a shocking conclusion:
I actually like my brother a lot.
There, I said it.
There's something unique about the bond between brother and sister. Like I said earlier, we used to argue constantly, but despite all that, there was never a time that we didn't love each other. I think it's only in the last several years that we've honestly started liking each other. I'm glad for the change, big bro. Thanks for being a role model for me. Thanks for talking through everything from taxes to parenting with me. You're an incredible father and husband and yes, brother - as much as the me of ten years ago would never believe it. Now, instead of counting down the days until you leave, I'm counting down the days until I can see you again.
And Kylen. Because he's cuter than you.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
A Sort-Of Psalm
Hello, friends.
I once had an assignment in which I had to write a story of sorts in the style of an Old Testament book. If I'm remembering correctly, I chose Jonah. It was an interesting exercise - using biblical language to describe something in the modern day. Well, today was a rather long and frustrating day for me. When I first day down to write a blog post, I entirely intended to do nothing but complain. But I think it would be helpful for me to write about my day in the style of a book of the Bible again, and once I get to the end, you'll see why. Here goes nothing, kind of in the style of one of the Psalms of lament.
O Lord, today I felt alone,
exhausted, and betrayed.
I did all that I could do
and still, it was not enough.
My best of intentions
amounted to nothing at all.
Those supposed to help
were absent and unashamed.
When I needed them the most,
they were elsewhere.
And I wondered, Lord God,
where were You?
But when I looked around,
I found You everywhere.
You were there in my daughter;
You were there in my pastor;
You were in the kindness of friends
and the sympathy of family.
I did not want to see You,
But You were still there.
Lord, Forgiver and Redeemer,
convict me with Your presence
and help me to be the person
You created me to be.
I once had an assignment in which I had to write a story of sorts in the style of an Old Testament book. If I'm remembering correctly, I chose Jonah. It was an interesting exercise - using biblical language to describe something in the modern day. Well, today was a rather long and frustrating day for me. When I first day down to write a blog post, I entirely intended to do nothing but complain. But I think it would be helpful for me to write about my day in the style of a book of the Bible again, and once I get to the end, you'll see why. Here goes nothing, kind of in the style of one of the Psalms of lament.
O Lord, today I felt alone,
exhausted, and betrayed.
I did all that I could do
and still, it was not enough.
My best of intentions
amounted to nothing at all.
Those supposed to help
were absent and unashamed.
When I needed them the most,
they were elsewhere.
And I wondered, Lord God,
where were You?
But when I looked around,
I found You everywhere.
You were there in my daughter;
You were there in my pastor;
You were in the kindness of friends
and the sympathy of family.
I did not want to see You,
But You were still there.
Lord, Forgiver and Redeemer,
convict me with Your presence
and help me to be the person
You created me to be.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Everything Is an Experiment
Hello, friends. Today, instead of going to work, I'm sitting at home eating small amounts of cereal and trying not to throw up. So far, so good.
I did have to leave at some point to drive my daughter to and from the library, where she had been volunteering. I say "had been" because today, the teen librarian told me that she wasn't a good fit for the program. It was an uncomfortable conversation. Basically, she said that my daughter didn't want to help - all she wanted to do was play.
This didn't come as a great shock to me, and if you've spent any time with my daughter, I doubt you're shocked either. But if that conversation was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to the conversation I then had to have with my daughter. I spent the drive home thinking, "How on earth do I break this to her?"
In the end, I kept it simple. I asked her some questions about what she did at the library versus what she was supposed to do, and she was able to acknowledge that she didn't always listen to the librarian. I then told her about one of my mottos in life: everything is an experiment. If one thing doesn't work, we try something else. And that's okay. Not everything is going to work. Sometimes things will work for awhile and then stop working. When one experiment fails, we move on to the next. That's how life works.
I'm glad she was able to volunteer, even if only for a few weeks. Now we find our next experiment.
I did have to leave at some point to drive my daughter to and from the library, where she had been volunteering. I say "had been" because today, the teen librarian told me that she wasn't a good fit for the program. It was an uncomfortable conversation. Basically, she said that my daughter didn't want to help - all she wanted to do was play.
This didn't come as a great shock to me, and if you've spent any time with my daughter, I doubt you're shocked either. But if that conversation was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to the conversation I then had to have with my daughter. I spent the drive home thinking, "How on earth do I break this to her?"
In the end, I kept it simple. I asked her some questions about what she did at the library versus what she was supposed to do, and she was able to acknowledge that she didn't always listen to the librarian. I then told her about one of my mottos in life: everything is an experiment. If one thing doesn't work, we try something else. And that's okay. Not everything is going to work. Sometimes things will work for awhile and then stop working. When one experiment fails, we move on to the next. That's how life works.
I'm glad she was able to volunteer, even if only for a few weeks. Now we find our next experiment.
Thursday, June 22, 2017
What Is the Church (Softball Team)
Hello, friends. Tonight, during our first church softball game, the opposing team needed some extra players. Our team had so many players that I hadn't even put myself on our line-up, so I volunteered myself. This gave me the unique opportunity to watch my team govern themselves.
The other team put me in right field. I was in the perfect position to observe my team's dugout. They were laughing and joking and cheering each other on and helping each other out and I thought to myself, this is the church. This is what I want to see. This beautiful sight reminded me of 1st Thessalonians 5:11 - "Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing."
Then it came time for them to go into the field. Despite the clearly-displayed lineup that I had done and redone five times to the best of my ability, people got confused and went to the wrong positions and started yelling at each other and getting frustrated. At first I was discouraged as I watched them from the other dugout, but then I realized: this is the church, too. We're not perfect. We make mistakes. We get angry. We get annoyed. We're just people, after all.
The game went on, and there were ups and downs in both dugouts. But in the end, we all came out as friends, and that's what the church truly is - a place of forgiveness.
The other team put me in right field. I was in the perfect position to observe my team's dugout. They were laughing and joking and cheering each other on and helping each other out and I thought to myself, this is the church. This is what I want to see. This beautiful sight reminded me of 1st Thessalonians 5:11 - "Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing."
Then it came time for them to go into the field. Despite the clearly-displayed lineup that I had done and redone five times to the best of my ability, people got confused and went to the wrong positions and started yelling at each other and getting frustrated. At first I was discouraged as I watched them from the other dugout, but then I realized: this is the church, too. We're not perfect. We make mistakes. We get angry. We get annoyed. We're just people, after all.
The game went on, and there were ups and downs in both dugouts. But in the end, we all came out as friends, and that's what the church truly is - a place of forgiveness.
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