A Season of Hope

Last Sunday at church, we heard a pretty incredible sermon. My pastor talked about salvation and about the fact that we are never too broken to be redeemed, never too dirty to be worthy of Him. If I’m being honest, although it was a POWERFUL sermon, it wasn’t one that specifically felt like it was speaking to me directly at this point in my life the way some sermons feel. 

Then, just at the end, Lord spoke to that house and then my pastor said these words: “Heal us, help us, and fill us with hope.” 

And immediately after that, I got a clear sense of the season the Lord has brought me to.

From August to December, I was in a deep, dark place. I was angry and I was fearful and I was broken-hearted. Many of those factors through which I defined myself had been destroyed or aged out or been taken away. 

Here , in January, I wrote about the mending that He was showing me and providing, and while the post was about the parent-child relationships I knew of, more in me was being mended than relationships. He was healing ME.

In February, it became very clear that He was helping me. In order to come to a place where I could receive help, I had to first figure out where the wounds were for them to be healed. Once that was done, He sent the words of others and new perspectives to allow for the helping to come. I wrote about the help Here.

Sunday, at the end of church, I saw where I am now and hopefully where I am headed in 2022… to a place of hope. My 2022 word is “shivelight”, which I have translated into looking for the bright spots. That’s what hope is, it’s the bright spots. 

Angela hopes to get into the Air Force Academy and after being very optimistic for a while, I had come to a place in the last few months of, not just being doubtful that it would happen, but even feeling a lack of trust in the prayer I had prayed— that if it’s not meant to be, He will close the door in favor of opening those that need to be opened. Last week, she got her acceptance into the Summer Seminar at the US Naval Academy. This is huge on many levels but, as I told a close friend, it just gives me a new sense of HOPE that it IS a possibility for her big dreams to be fulfilled. 

I had prayed the same for Roman and college, that if he’s meant to be at one school the money will be provided and if he’s not, it won’t. It didn’t look like it was going to happen and so we had taken steps to prepare for the other school and suddenly this week, a letter came and the hope is back. 

I have renewed hope in the future of my job. I have renewed hope in a new side job. I have renewed hope in my children’s futures and in mine and Kraig’s upcoming years. 

He has moved me into a season of hope, and while I don’t know how long this season will be, I am grateful and hungry for it.

Stone Memorials

At the very end of service yesterday, the praise and worship team started to sing a song that I have not heard in YEARS but a song that I consider a stone memorial of sorts for me.

Back in February of 2017, it did not look like our adoption was going to happen because the paperwork did not look possible in the 4 week timeframe it had leading to the deadline. I stood in church the morning that I wrote this post and Travis Greene’s “Made a Way” was played. In that post, I detail how the Lord spoke directly to my soul (after having used that song only four months earlier) to reassure me that He was going to do it. And in that post from February 2017, I mention that one day in the future I will hear that song and the promise will be fulfilled. The way will have already been made and we will be living it.

Yesterday, during that ending of service, that song again became a promise and a fulfillment. We have had high hopes for each of our kids since they came here and there have been moments of grave doubt and moments of fear and moments of insane joy. This past week, we were in moments of insane joy as a huge dream of Angela’s is starting to look very possible and a hope we had actually kind of given up on for Roman suddenly became very possible. We WERE, literally, standing in that moment on March 6, 2022, holding onto an email and a college letter that happened only “because You made a way.” 

And yet in the midst of that, there is heartbreak and loss and grief for another. For that, we are…. 

“Standing here not knowing how we'll get through this test
But holding unto faith You know that
Nothing can catch You by surprise
You got this figured out and You're watching us now
But when it looks as if we can't win
You wrap us in Your arm and step in
And everything we need You supply
You got this in control
And now we know that

There is nothing that’s impossible.”

I had the family devotional last night, and I used Joshua 4 as my text. 

1 When all the nation had finished passing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, 3 and command them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests' feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight.’” 4 Then Joshua called the twelve men from the people of Israel, whom he had appointed, a man from each tribe. 5 And Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the people of Israel, 6 that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ 7 then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever.” 21 And he said to the people of Israel, “When your children ask their fathers in times to come, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 23 For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan for you until you passed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we passed over, 24 so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever.” - Joshua 4:1,3-7,21,23-24

I talked to them about those stone memorials. We all have those moments in life where God’s faithfulness was proven and we return to them, either through a song or a verse or a geographic location or a date in time where we are reminded, and we need to share that testimony with others. 

For me, that song will always be a stone memorial. And for me yesterday, it not only proved His faithfulness in where we have been, it gave me strength and faith in where we are going. I had no idea when I did that devotional last night with my family that today would bring about a new test, new fears and grief. But because my faith was strengthened last night and because I shared with them, I am better able to face today’s situation.

“He moves mountains. He causes walls to fall. With his power, He performs miracles. There is nothing that’s impossible. And we’re standing here only because He made a way.”

The Valleys and the Peaks

I watched a documentary this weekend called "14 Peaks". It's about a Nepali climber named Nims Purja who, along with his team, attempts to summit all of the 14 highest peaks (8,000 meters) in the world in seven months. Their dream was called "Project Possible" and it seemed impossible. They actually did 3 of the mountains (including Everest) in 48 hours. Insanity. For the last one, the Chinese government had blocked all access to it and the entire worldwide climbing community (and outside of it) got involved in petitioning the Chinese government to let him climb it. They finally got permission and the footage of the first part of that climb and the insane weather around made me think they were going to get that far only to have to give up. However... the subtitle of the movie is "Nothing is Impossible" and they certainly proved that.

Spoiler alert, they succeeded. And in just over six months time. 

I've always thought it was interesting how mountains are used as metaphors for two completely opposite things. They are used to describe the obstacles in our paths, the seemingly impossible, as they were in several of our praise and worship songs today, and they are also used to describe the peak experiences in life and the "valleys" are used to describe the hard times. 

I've watched a lot of climbing documentaries lately ("Free Solo", "The Alpinist", this one, "The Dawn Wall") and have started to follow some climbers on instagram. What I have realized is that most climbing deaths don't happen on the ascent or from the summit. They happen during the descent. I've read a little bit about why that might be, and I don't have a theory of my own because I'm not a climber (I just might be a little obsessed with it), but I think that the riskiest part of a climb being the descent fits in with those contradictory mountain metaphors mentioned above.

In all of the climbing documentaries I have watched, not a single climber being interviewed has ever one time said, "And that was my last mountain. I am officially finished." In fact, at the end of every interview and article, the journalist will ask, "So what's next?" and they always have an answer, even if they are evasive as to the details at that point in time. 

The descent of the mountains, the valleys between the mountains, they are all part of the process of moving toward the next mountain. 

If you want to see the metaphor of the mountain as the obstacle, that definitely works. When I watched Nims and his team approaching each of those 14 mountains and the camera panned up, I thought HOW ON THIS ENTIRE EARTH can they look up at that and think of reaching the top. 

You know how they did it every single time, usually while the camera was still panning? They started walking. Not even climbing at that point, just walking. And then the walking turned to climbing and the climbing turned to defying gravity and completing the impossible by summiting the peak.

Goal accomplished, right? They'll usually make some statement like that, take a pic of themselves giving a thumbs up, etc.. And I guess as far as the record books are concerned, they did it. But as far as the climber and his or her life is concerned, it's not finished until they are safely back down.

But then once they are down, all they want to think about and do is plan for the next trip up the next peak. The valley is the obstacle to get through in order to have another "peak experience". 

And on.

And on.

And on.

And I guess that's how this life rocks on too, huh? It's a series of valleys and peaks, and somehow the valleys and the peaks are both the obstacle and the high, the rest and the work, the grief and the joy. 

Still Enough

 There are about a thousand things I cannot publicly say about the 2021-2022 school year but I'll just give you the understatement of the year and say:

It's been a challenge.

And because I can't stand to see teachers make vague comments and then wonder if it's my kid they're talking about, let me also offer this clarification:

The kids in room 220 have been ZERO PERCENT of the cause of that challenge. I always tend to adore my students, but this year it has been above and beyond. The absolute most perfect little AP class, a group that makes me feel completely comfortable and loved every single minute, a group that is so dang mature and perceptive that I sometimes wonder how they are real... An awesomely fun senior English class last semester, a group that never gave me a dull moment and worked hard... A Holocaust Lit class that could not have been a better group of human beings, just a joy to teach and so focused and caring and smart and kind... a senior English class this semester that laughs at more of my pitiful jokes than any class ever has and that has a higher level of attention to Macbeth than I have ever seen, plus they are just sweet... an English II Honors class that came out of nowhere and fell into my lap and that I have decided was a singular gift from God meant to reward me for making it to May this year, they are so perfect. So the kids? The kids are fine. Better than fine, actually.

But this year has been hard and in some ways it's only getting harder and big changes have come and are coming on a lot of levels and I've had to work through a lot of things for myself over the past month and a half. It's not a secret to say that turnover in education is currently very high and only projected to climb higher, and that is true at the local level as well. And truthfully, it's tough to be the one "left there", in a sense. I don't judge those who have left and are leaving, not one bit. But I have realized through some pretty heartbreaking dreams I have had (one in which I woke sobbing) that I have some abandonment issues that this is awakening. I am also revisiting some really deeply buried insecurities that I haven't seen in about fifteen years or more that center on "settling" and "selling out". 

I remember in high school, hearing all of those around me talk about wanting to get out of Cleveland and feeling like there was something wrong with me because I wanted to stay. I remember in college, switching my major to English and knowing it was what I was meant to do, but also hearing it echo in my head, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." I remember (and it still happens today) talking to others about their lives and their jobs and, when asked about "what's new with you", only having this to say: "Oh, same things as the past 21 years, just living in Cleveland and teaching and raising a family!" 

In my heart, I don't feel like any of those things are "just" things. I am doing exactly what I planned to do, what I longed to do, what I set out to do. And truthfully, most days I feel that I am doing all of it pretty dang well. 

But in this mad rush for the door that is happening nationwide, I don't have the option to go. Would I, if I did? I don't know. I think if several things in this state go the way I think they are going to go, I would very seriously consider it. I would miss the kids something fierce, but I might go. But the fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter because the option for me does not exist. I am here. Where I will stay until I turn out those lights in 11 years for the last time and take my $3/sick day or whatever it is and my stacks of novels bought from McKays with my money and my bulletin board of photographs and my yard sale purchased furniture and my 4.0 Banquet trophies and my bags of student letters and cards and drive away from 850 Raider Dr for the last time.

So because the option to go isn't there, I am in a situation where I have shape my perspective in whatever way I need to for me to be able to peacefully stay. I have to to find the good in the things I will be living with for 11 more years and see that as self-preservation, not selling out. This week I had to do some hard work inside my heart and brain and sort through these feelings and thoughts. There were tears and there was pressing down on the bruise and wounds, pressing that didn't feel good but was necessary in order to see where the hurts were that needed to heal. 

At the absolute height of rifling through my rolodex of emotions this week, literally out of the clear blue, I got a fb message from a former student who is probably pushing mid-30's now. And it shouldn't be surprising to know that God used this kid-turned-man to say exactly the words my heart needed to find the strength to face the inner demons and to find what I needed to move forward. The number of times this has happened in a 21 year career, when I have gotten a message in one of a hundred different formats and platforms that was precisely what I needed to hear (and often from a completely unexpected source, either a kid I didn't even get particularly those to or from a "kid" who is now a grown adult with a family of his or her own), is innumerable. God has always used the written word to encourage me and I love His timing.

So to every teacher out there who is feeling some of what I was feeling or all of what I was feeling or possibly even more and bigger of what I was feeling... 

Claim this message for yourself too today. No matter what has changed, and no matter what WILL change, you are "still enough". Now excuse me while I go cry again at the impeccable timing of this beautiful message.

Everything Flows Downstream

Image: New River Gorge NP, Endless Wall Trail

 Last night, on a rare kidless weekend, Kraig and I seized the opportunity to attend a film festival I had heard about that was happening in Chattanooga, the Lookout Wild Film Festival. It was absolutely an incredible night of films, both shorts and the feature length ("River Runner"). 

We saw these films:

• Our Theory of Human Motivation  (3)

• Homeland –  Undiscovered Trails Of The Kackar Mountains (4)

• Camp Yoshi (10) 

• Kyra: An Olympic Story  (8)

• The Wanderlust Women (8)

• Latitude (9)

• The Outlaw Sport (8)

• Spirit of the Peaks  (42)

• Katie (10) 

• The River Runner  (86)

I absolutely loved "Our Theory of Human Motivation", "Camp Yoshi", and "Katie". In one of them (possibly "Spirit of the Peaks"), the statement was made that "everything flows downstream". It was referencing water sources and pure water and the fact that the snowmelt is what provides water for those downstream and that we don't think about even the smallest ways that we pollute such as the wax from snowboards, and so on. But the minute it was said, it struck me.

Everything flows downstream.

Everything we do has repercussions "downstream". Everything we say, every action we take, every decision we make. It is all going to impact other people in some way, and it's also going to impact us in the future. We may not see the immediate consequence or benefit (because this doesn't have to just consider the negative side), but it will show up eventually.

What are we putting in the water today, in the world and in our lives, that's going to impact us in the future? Are we taking care of our business, are we making positive choices, are we considering the other people around us? Or are we dumping our trash, making rash choices without considering the future, polluting the lives of those around us? Do we make things better for our future selves and those who are impacted by us, or do we make them worse?

It's an image that is going to stay with me for a while, I feel certain. I plan to ask myself regularly if this is something I want to see later, if "downstream" for this situation or decision or action will look favorable or unfavorable.

Dream-Launch

 Today, I witnessed the launch of a dream. 

My pastor and my friend, my prayer warrior and fellow mama in the trenches, now published author, Dawn Lipsey launched her book. I had the privilege of reading it during the final editing stages, and it is absolutely a Word from the Lord. There are certain motifs in this book that have lived in my head since I read it in November. It is no doubt going to minister to people where they are, and move them to walk forward through and into what the Lord has for them.

Watching the culmination of this God-dream of hers got me thinking about my own dreams. 

Dreams realized, dreams deferred, dreams still germinating, dreams I am in the middle of living...

And with that, I also started to think about the periods of time when dreams are dead. When the soil of our hearts is dry and cracked, when there isn't a cherished seed that we take out from time to time to nurture, treasure, and then tuck back into fertile soil. 

I know people in the midst of each of these stages and phases of dream-growth right now. 

As I watched Dawn, teary-eyed and smiling, greet the long line of people who came by after church to congratulate her and purchase books and shirts and bags and caps, I thought of all of the hours she spent laboring over this work. I thought about the discouragement she mentioned in her sermon, the starts and stops, and the fear of failure. I thought about the call of the Lord on her to write and the ways she said she tried to adjust the call to fit what she knew to be her giftings, rather than push forward into the uncomfortable unknown outside of her comfort zone. 

And I vowed to remember what the launch looks like when I'm in the other periods of my own dream-growth. To keep the end in my heart, even when my head is bogged down in the muck of the process.

Thank you, Dawn, for leading us well in so many ways, but mostly for living what you preach.

More. And Enough.

On the last day of the year, I spent some time looking back and looking forward. In the past few years, as I think is the norm for progressing through your 40’s, I’ve either gotten to know myself better than I ever have or I have realized that I am different from who I once was. Either way, there has been an increased self-awareness, self-realization, and self-actualization that has taken place inside of me. 

So this year, in looking forward, I want two things that seem contradictory. I want more. And I want what I have to be enough.

I want More. More of what makes me feel like…. well…. ME.

More intentional time with the people I love. 

More books.

More making my house look like I want it to look instead of what home design people say it should look.

More trips.

More nature.

More gently guiding the kids in my classroom to fall in love with the words on a page.

More speaking up when someone needs to.

More staying quiet when my contribution can’t change anything.

More hikes.

More beautiful places, not just away but also right here at home.

More chasing the dreams I want to have shape my later years.

More thrilling rides with my kids through their decisive young adult years.

More lists.

More plans.

More running out with Kraig when what I really want is to stay at home.

More gray hair. 

More pictures.

More healthy work.

More attention to my mental health.

More saying no when it really isn’t something that makes me or someone else better.

More saying no when it might be something that makes me or someone else better but it isn’t the right time.

More saying no sometimes when I really just don’t want to.

More snow days.

More sunshine.

More shivelight.

More time with the friends who make me laugh and happy to be in this life.

More of Him. More time with Him. More about Him.

But at the same time, I want to come to know and rest in Enough.

I want to be content with exactly what I have.

I don’t want to hear people talking about this material thing or that material thing, even if it’s a material thing I have always, always, always wanted, and feel a sense of lack.

I don’t want to question the skills or abilities or giftings that I know I have, that I have proven over and over, because of someone else’s {uninformed} opinion or view. 

I don’t want to buy into the lie that if I was just a little more submissive, a little more fit, a little more social, a little more domestic, a little more whatever, that I would be better off.

I want to know, with the confidence that a 44 year old woman of God/wife and daughter and sister and friend/mother of 5/veteran teacher/side hustler has, that I am enough. I have enough to give and I have enough inside and I have enough around me and I have done enough and He makes me enough.

So I want More, but I also want to live in Enough.