It Takes A Village

A colleague reminded me this week that we all have people in our circle who watch over us. She referred to the support system as a village, which has left me thinking.

In the world of teaching, we often feel isolated. It sounds funny, that a unit of like-minded people could work together, yet separately, and feel lonely. After all, we have little people all around us and we work with a large number of adults. However, the reality is that we have little time for personal social interaction.

Some people are perfectly happy being alone. I am not.

45767856_10216223139965238_2146917347972087808_n

My favorite time period of teaching was the 13 years that I team taught. My co-teacher and I worked like a finely tuned machine. Her strengths were my weaknesses and mine were hers. We complimented each other. We worked primarily in the portable classrooms, just outside of the school building, and renamed it the Learning Cottage. We created our own village. We all loved it out there. It was like a little 2-room schoolhouse that included 40 children. Quite honestly, it was at the highlight of my teaching.

We weren’t made to live in isolation. Even wolves travel in packs. I think we were designed to be part of like-minded groups. Those units shift and change, but I believe that I am a better me when I am around loyal people with like-goals, who sincerely want to be with me.

We live in a naturally competitive society and I am not competitive in any way shape or form. I don’t want to ever draw attention to myself. I don’t like confrontation. I want to blend in. I am a team player, and have very high expectations for myself and others within my small village.

I am faithful to a fault, and sometimes I get burned because I am so trusting. Sometimes in a pack, wolves turn on the old and the fragile. I am not old, but I’ll admit that I am fragile. Sometimes it takes my whole village to keep me moving forward. I am so thankful for them.

A small Gift Card is often left in my school mailbox to help with groceries. I am so thankful for the anonymous villager who is quietly watching over me. It helps to ward off the loneliness. You’d be surprised at how many times that card has pushed us through- the exact amount needed to get us to the next paycheck. Whoever you are, I pray that you are reading this. I am so thankful for your commitment to making me feel cared for.

Our world has become much smaller as my favorite man forgets people he rarely sees. I find it interesting that he talks about people as we pass by their homes. However, if those same people pop into our house, he often doesn’t know who they are. He is lonely, but he doesn’t want to see people. It’s too scary because they know him and he doesn’t know them. (If I think about it, if a stranger showed up insisting he knew me and I didn’t recognize him, I would be terrified and I wouldn’t want to let him in.) We don’t travel very far or for very long. It’s too scary. This means that our short outings are predictable, and generally places where he won’t run into anyone.

A few years ago, I shared our dilemma with our pastor. His response: if people (the village) don’t come to me, then I (because he won’t go) need to go to the village. The snag is that I am needed at home as soon as school is over. My guy paces and waits for me by the window every afternoon, waiting for my return.

So, to the faithful members of my small village: you know who you are, THANK YOU. You give me strength, encouragement, and talk me off the ledge when my nerves seem like they cannot withstand one more obstacle.

Today I am thankful for the sweet moments that I get to share with my favorite man and that I am not alone.

May the members of our individual villages be patient in tribulation, bless those who persecute us, and abhor evil. My prayer is that everyone is a part of a intimate village that lifts and encourages one another no matter what the time and the hour. May we use our individual gifts to strengthen each another. Together may we all rejoice in hope, cleave to what is good, and always display love. May we not go through the motions, but instead, be a wise and cheerful blessing. (Romans 12)

Advertisements

Spaghetti Struggles

“How do I understand him better? Why does he say what he says? Why does he do what he does? Isn’t it common sense? Doesn’t he just know what I need? Why do I have to tell him again? I feel like he doesn’t care.”

Partnerships are complicated. There are no exceptions. Relationships between any two human beings need work, and those that matter the most require a whole lot of hard work. (I dare say that 100% of the time: every day, and all day.) Our family has relied on the two books featured. If you haven’t read them, I highly suggest taking the plunge. They are a quick easy read jam-packed with great practical information.

So what happens when one can’t give 100% and your relationship leans to one side? For whatever reason, the relationship is lopsided. Now what?

These are my favorite verses to fall back on. When I am feeling defeated, alone, and fear is getting the best of me, this is the place where I land:

26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26,28

This week my husband was faced with a “plate of spaghetti” and I had an opportunity to see how he was able to tackle it in his dementia state of mind. Women think like spaghetti. They have a thousand things whizzing around and multiple plates to juggle at once. It is how we are hardwired. Men, generally do not multitask as well, and like to handle tasks one waffle square at a time. This is definitely true with the men in my life.

In the past- before dementia, my husband would handle a “plate of spaghetti”- multiple dilemma’s all interwoven, by peeling apart one or two parts of the dish at a time. In fact, I remember him coaching our teenage children through each crisis by giving them a list of 2-3 things to do, with a timeline. He would help them by placing the parts and pieces of the spaghetti dish into waffle squares to be tackled one at a time. He was good at it, and the kids would gravitate toward our calm problem solver.

I, on the other hand, am a practical problem solver and a BIG PICTURE girl. The kids didn’t need my help to see the forest just yet. They just needed to see one tree at a time, and he was their go-to person. In fact, I have often made things worse if I interfere too early.

We have been a team. We compliment each other very much. He has traditionally seen the trees and could get them out of the forest. Then he would tag out and I could help them to process and plan next steps.

So, back to the spaghetti. My brain goes a mile a minute. In fact, on this Saturday, I was awakened at an early hour with a headache, a sore jaw, and thoughts flying through my brain at warped speed.

My husband’s brain does not. This week he sat and stared at his figurative plate of spaghetti, and could not pull out just one part at a time and work through our multilayered challenges. He didn’t even know where to start. The only solution that he could think of wasn’t a possibility. He just sat and cried. He knew I needed him, but he couldn’t help.

So what happens when the relationship is lopsided, despite all the best intentions, and your better half can’t speak your love language?  In Matthew, Jesus says that church members should forgive each other “seventy times seven times” (18:22), a number that symbolizes boundlessness. I take this as a directive for healthy humans. But what if one isn’t? What if he just can’t reciprocate the way I need him to? Now what?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

Matthew 22:37

Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

1 John 4:8

I think the answer is to love and to take what he can give because something is better than nothing. So, to all of you who don’t have an equal partnership, and a plate of spaghetti is just too much to maneuver through, my advice is to take what you can get and accept what he can give. Put on your game face, be the best YOU you can be, and take the blessings, because life is hard and unpredictable. Don’t waste one precious moment thinking about what you don’t have or how your needs aren’t being 100% met. Instead, focus on what you do have. Count your blessings, name them one by one. I do believe that we will be rewarded in the end.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

43280680_10216000478678845_5066786525547593728_n

 

Figuratively Speaking

Your mind is a garden, your thoughts are the seeds. You can grow flowers or you can grow weeds. I am determined to grow flowers.

We’ve had a really great summer and Fall, a nice long stable stretch. As long as we keep my favorite man’s world predictable, quiet, and with enough projects to keep him busy, he remains happy as a pig in poop.

44284050_10216065718829808_8116275771711946752_nCoffee and candy make him as happy as a kid in a candy store and walks by the ocean keep him happy as a clam at high tide. It takes very little to make his day.

Nap time is most important for him, wrapped like a bug in a rug, he will saw logs for about three hours a day. This gives him enough of a second wind, to stay up until well past my bedtime. He seems to enjoy the quiet time. He thinks it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

He continues to enjoy rewatching the last election from a variety of different networks and is thrilled with the surprise outcome every time. He also follows the local sports teams. He is still quite opinionated, so I say squat when he wants to fill me in about what he watches. Sometimes it takes a month of Sunday’s to get his point across, but if I remain cool as a cucumber when he is wound tighter than a three-day clock, he is happier than a pup with two tails. I remind myself to give eye contact, shut my mouth, nod my head, wait, and listen. That’s all he needs.

imagesMy problem is that I am generally busier than a one-armed paper hanger. I feel like I complete everything by the skin of my teeth and that nothing I do is done up to par. However, I’m learning the value of putting away technology and correcting, giving him my time. Nobody ever lays on their deathbed wishing they spent more time working. My undivided attention makes him happier than a butcher’s dog.

As we prepare for the third snow of the season, we are once again enjoying the pellet stove. Not only does it provide warmth, but it gives him something else to be responsible for. Everyone needs a job, and everyone needs to feel needed. It’s a good thing that he continues to be strong as an ox, and his rotator cuff is allowing him to carry the 40 pound pellets with ease. He really minds the cold, and so the stove is the cat’s meow.

We aren’t quite done winterizing. He still needs to put in the window inserts, the plastic, and the orange stakes out for our neighbors who plow for us. However, he is proud as a peacock that he is still able to do so much to care for our home. God knew that my favorite guy would need plenty of projects.

He can still write, although his handwriting isn’t what it once was and his speech, most of the time, is as plain as day. Sometimes he mixes up words or has a hard time getting his point across, but if we let him “warm up” he will generally make connections.

He putters and is often slower than molasses going uphill, but it makes no difference. There is no fire. Sometimes it is a day or two – and he needs to watch and rewatch YouTube to help him with a project snag, but soon the answer is as plain as day and the snaffoo is working slick as poop through a tin horn.

This year he decided that he didn’t want a vegetable garden or chickens. He has been determined to simplify, which started last summer when our goal was to go through everything we own and thin out. It was a challenge, but he tackled it like a champ, and was happier than a pig in a slop trough when he was able to make more room in the garage.

If he’s having “one of those days” and is meaner than a wet hen, we just remember that there is more than one way to skin a cat. If coffee, candy, and a nap doesn’t do it, we employ the toddler technique. Although our 22 month old granddaughter can run around like a tornado in a trailer park, she can take him from looking like something the cat dragged in, with a personality of a damp dishrag, to a a kid on Christmas morning. Nobody can melt his soul, like his grandbabies.

When the house lacks order and looks like a pig sty, I’m on it like white on rice. We will often clean and straighten together- especially on laundry day, since he has trouble separating the clothes.

If it’s too stimulating, we make like a banana and split, and head off like a herd of turtles to his get-a-way. His mood is never anything that a trip to the coast won’t cure, with a walk and to watch the boats . This makes him as happy as a fox in the hen-house and when he’s happy, I’m happy.

Although poor as church mice because nobody has found that blasted money tree yet, we know that we sow what we reap. Therefore, we want to be transparent, teaching others how to push through life’s challenges. We are not greater than thou. We are just normal humans going through challenges just like everyone else. Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, we try to meditate on life as a coffee cup, filled to the brim and enjoyed with friends. My husbands favorite reminder to others is that everybody has a story, we only need to listen and observe.

We miss people. Our world has become very small, but we’ve learned that life is like an elevator on its way up, sometimes we have to stop and let some people off. Instead of dwelling on who isn’t around, we are thankful for those that want to be part of our journey, and show us with their actions and prayers.

Life isn’t all peaches and cream. So, as long as we have air to breath, we will remind our family that, “They (you) are our (my) sunshine”, and when they ask if life’s challenges are over; We’ve hit our max; It’s someone else’s turn, we will tell them to dream on Alice, soon they’ll be in Wonderland.

More than anything we just keep reminding ourselves that love is like the wind, you can’t see it, but you can feel it and when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

43280680_10216000478678845_5066786525547593728_n.jpg

 

Happy National Coffee Day!

42727692_432819013790021_7068949409626587136_n

“Buy one, get one free” brought a smile to my favorite man’s face and a put a twinkle in his eye today. This has brought me joy beyond all measure.

Today has been a foggy day. He has them once in a while. Coffee, a walk, leaf peeping, and a trip to the grocery store made my favorite man’s day. He is now peacefully napping and I hope that he is dreaming of LOVE. I pray that he feels the warm feeling of a family that insists on focusing on what he can do today, what he can remember in the moment, and that his heart and our hearts will forever be entwined.

Coffee is one thing that keeps him with us and makes all the difference. So from our family to yours, Happy National Coffee Day! May it be as good for you as it has been for us.

 

The Dementia World

I haven’t written about the world of Dementia for a while for a variety of reasons. One, is simply because there has been little to write about. Things have stayed rather stagnant for a while. Another, is because my children don’t like to read about it. It is our reality, but they try not have it be the focus of our existence, and I can appreciate that.

That being said, I share our story for two major purposes: to inform and to educate. I feel strongly that my responsibility is to be transparent in order to keep friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors updated so that they don’t have to ask. There are also followers who either have lived, are living, or will live through dementia in some capacity. The disease doesn’t show favoritism and you never know when it will come knocking at the door of a friend or family member.

A third reason, and the most important one for me, is for therapy. I process by communicating. When life’s circumstances bog me down, writing forces me to organize my thoughts. Strange as it might seem, it works as a sort of detox for my brain.

Today I wish to inform or educate, and at the very least, detox. So, here goes…

Five and a half years ago, I was angry. That was when my 47-year old husband was diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia, most likely caused by too many blows to the head. But if it were possible to go back and console my younger self, these are some things that I might say:

Dear Younger Me,

I know that you are running around like an idiot trying to get those 25 things that the support group gave you, completed. They are right, you need to do them and many things are time sensitive. However, you need to know more than anything, that you will have plenty of time to regroup and reset. Time is on your side.

Medical challenges will erupt, and every person’s dementia story sounds different. However, there will be many similarities. Listen and learn from those who have gone before you. I know that makes you angry. You want to know the timetable. You want to know what to expect and when to brace for another pothole, but there is no way to plan. Everyone’s journey is unique. Stop planning.

View his time home as a sweet blessing and his lost job as a gift from above. Call it “Early Retirement” and learn to graciously accept gifts from friends and family. Do not deny them of the blessings that come from being a helpmate to a friend, family, coworker, or neighbor. Choke back your pride. There will be a day when finances will adjust to a “new normal” but it will take time and patience. You will not always live on bread and peanut butter.

Notice the blessings. God knew that your favorite man would need more projects than he could keep up with, That is why he supplied the house on the mountain three years in advance. He also knew that you would need help from well-trained children, who are natural caregivers. He supplied a home that was too big for two, and just right for six, and filled a need for two families. Enjoy the gift of family that provides help and grandchildren that fill you up.

Believe it or not, your relationship will become sweeter than it has ever been. You will feel needed and appreciated because he relies on you so thoroughly. Walks are precious. That is the time that he will open up to you and talk to you about changes that he notices and fears that he has about the future. It is a blessed time to reassure him and provide him with comfort. It is a beautiful gift of time that the Lord has provided.

He knew you needed a small support system that you could call on at any time, knowing that they would be there to hold you up when you won’t have the strength on your own. Don’t dwell on who isn’t there when you feel lonely. Instead, feel thankful for those who have stepped in to help and encourage you.

610546228-612x612The dementia progression will go in steps like a staircase. He will be on one stair for quite some time, before moving to the next landing. It gives you time to recalculate and regroup. Relax. You will catch up.

Some days will be cloudy and some days will be clear. Most days are just fine. He won’t be able to differentiate between a cloudy and clear day, so you will have to do it for him. He will be tired, confused, frustrated because he can’t do something he knows he should know how to do, or angry because he “did something stupid”. Just reassure him, and keep things light. You are his person and if he sees you upset, he won’t know what to do about it and his agitation will increase. Save it for the closet or the shower.

He will be quieter. Be prepared to do projects and errands alone. You will have to keep him safe, take over the driving, manage the finances, and monitor the medications. However, the good news is that he will still be an active participant in the family. He will still cook, mow the lawn, do laundry (after someone else separates it), clean, and make minor renovations 5 1/2 years after the diagnosis. Regression isn’t immediate, so relax. Just watch from afar to be sure that he stays safe.

He will be tired, have a headache nearly every day, and will be sore from a torn rotator cuff and an arthritis filled body. He will lose his desire to eat most meals. However, he will be drawn to sweets. Foods will taste bland to him, so they won’t be as enjoyable. He will be thrilled with Dunkin Donut’s coffee, soda, and sweet treats like ice cream, candy, and cookies. It will make you so happy to see him content.

You will have to worry about highly stimulating situations. He will no longer want to go to church, or crowded places, especially where people might know him, and he doesn’t know them. Even familiar places like the family farm will be a scary place. He will be happiest at home, riding in the car, or down by the water. The ocean brings him peace. He will love to watch the boats and the tide slapping on the rocks.

After 5 1/2 years, he will still be able to read, and retain what he reads if it is highly interesting. He will still be interested in politics, history, and the most recent election. It will bring him great joy to re-watch the surprise ending! He will enjoy watching Big Brother, Survivor, and 48 hours with your middle child via FaceTime and Messenger every Saturday night.

His children and grandchildren will continue to bring him the most joy. Although highly stimulating when all together, there will be nothing that makes him happier. Plan to have him respond much the way an autistic child would when he’s had enough. He will shake his hands, stare, shiver, rock, yell out, or bolt. Occasionally he might surprise you and rise to the occasion, and crash later. Most importantly, he will be looking for you. You are his person. Be there. Hold his hand, whisper in his ear, let him rub your arm raw, and take him for a walk. He needs you and it will make you feel so good to be his lifeline.

More than anything, live for the day. Stop planning. Don’t plan anything for more than 4-6 weeks out. Think back to when the children were little. Make tentative plans based on how he is doing at that moment on that particular day. Dementia makes no sense. Some days are good. Some days are not so good. Some things are forgotten forever. Some things come back after a period of time.

Celebrate each day as a gift. Stop worrying about the future. When it’s time, God will reveal what the next steps are. It sounds trite, but you really have to just live in the moment. Most importantly, stop holding your breath. Don’t waste one precious moment. You don’t want any regrets in the end.

Don’t doubt yourself. Your journey is your journey. It isn’t going to look like everyone else’s. You and the kids are going to be alright. He has taught you everything you need to know to keep going. When the time comes, and the Lord takes him home, be assured that you will one day be reunited. A physical death is not the end of your story. So relax. Enjoy the moment, seek joy, find strength and peace. You will be okay.

With love,

Older, Wiser Me.

40143700_10215708702704628_3343368981779054592_n

 

 

 

 

 

 

Teacher Appreciation Day

images-1This week will mark my 28th Teacher Appreciation Day. Like my birthday, I always come into the day with some hopeful expectations: children bounding into the classroom with chocolates, flowers and homemade cards that explicitly pronounce their great appreciation for teaching, guiding and molding their young minds. They will reminisce about the wonderful units and experiments we have enjoyed together and promise to never forget the contributions that I have made toward their education and futures. The entire classroom will smile angelically and do all that is asked with delight. As a result, their performance on the local, state, and national assessments will show great growth, which was naturally a result of my phenomenal teaching ability. (Can you hear the angel choir and see my halo?)

In all seriousness, I do take this time of year to self reflect and think about MY experiences as a student. I honestly remember very little of my early years, which makes me realize that my little people will most likely not remember me either. I have come to terms with the fact that I work quietly behind the scenes of their education to set seeds and hopefully create a yearning to learn.

I started out in a preschool that felt huge to me. I don’t think it exists any more. I remember singing “Happy Birthday”, coloring pictures that matched the letters of the day, and saluting the flag in a big meeting room. Mostly, I remember my mother making me take a nap after lunch when I got home, and trying to fool her into thinking that I had slept, when I hadn’t.

I’m dating myself, but in Kindergarten, I went to school in a two-room schoolhouse, that is used today as an Administrative Building. The school was built in 1914. About the only thing I remember is the wooden floors. This is a picture I found online. ek_sweetser-500x374

In the second grade, my school was blown up in the evening by some punk kids. As a result, classrooms were farmed all around the surrounding areas. Classes went to the fire house, lodges, and churches while they rebuilt the school. The only additional thing I remember from that time was that I got to be the “Partridge in a Pear Tree” during our concert, because I sang (screamed) the loudest during our rehearsals.

I’m sorry to say that I don’t remember my Pre-K to 2 teachers. However, I have no doubt that they set seeds that made a huge impact on my later decision to become an educator.

In Grade 3 I had Mr. McGovern and he was the bees knees. As I recall, he was handsome and single, and could give a lot of attention to our busy class. He taught us to tie ribbons for wreathes as a fundraiser for a trip to the Boston Museum of Arts. I remember singing the songs that were on the radio during music class, and we loved that. (“The ink is black, the page is white…”) It was during a time when the teachers were expected to instruct art, PE, music. I’ll never forget the day that we went to the museum. I had on a pair of overalls, and I had purchased a glass horse as a souvenir. When I boarded the bus, the horse fell out my pocket and broke. I was devastated. As a result, Mr. McGovern held the bus, ran in, and bought me another one. To this day, that kind gesture makes my heart smile.

We respected Mr. McGovern and he had NO behavior problems, except for one day… Gordon was acting badly and he got a spanking with a wooden paddle in front of the whole class. He grabbed his back side and rolled around on the floor howling, and that was enough for the rest of us. I smile when I think of our own painted handprints that he had us place on the wall on the first day of school. In case of a spanking, we were to place our hands on our own set of prints and bend over. The intimidation tactic worked, and you couldn’t have asked for a better behaved group of 8 & 9 year olds.

To Mr. McGovern, thank you. You made a huge positive impact on my life and I will be forever grateful.

In the Fourth Grade, I had a beautiful young teacher from Peru with long black shiny hair. She was homesick so her parents would send her care packages that included items indicative of the area. We couldn’t wait to see every new doll or artifact that was mailed. As a result, we studied the culture throughout the year and my teacher had a taste of home all around the classroom. Mrs. Johnson recognized my interest in math and allowed me to work ahead of the class, in the grade 5 math workbook with one other student. I remember being motivated and driven, and I loved learning. A big thank you to Mrs. Johnson, who, like Mr. McGovern, made learning fun and encouraged me to excel in the things that interested me.

Grade 5 was a bit of a blur. I remember FINALLY being placed in the same class as my cousin. We talked constantly, and he couldn’t have placed us further away from one another in the room if he tried. I remember really, really wanting to be selected as  Student of the Month, and finally being honored with it in March, just before moving to the farm.

On March 10, 1977, we moved 2-hours north, away from the suburbs of Portland, to a VERY rural area. For the first time in my life, I had to learn to play with just my siblings, because we no longer had a plethora of neighbors from which to play with. The latest styles had not yet made it to the area and I stood out like a sore thumb. I remember rocking my polyester plaid pantsuit on the first day of school and having the kids stare at me. Routines and friendship groups were established and I was absolutely left out and lost. I cried for two straight weeks. I was so homesick. My teacher finally pulled me aside and asked, “What is the matter?” and I poured out my soul. It was then that I became the “Teacher’s Pet” and Mr. Constable’s right hand girl. He made my heart so full, as he asked me to correct and pass out papers. It was then that I decided that I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to be just like Mr. C.

Ironically, I did go to school to become a teacher and I did my Student Teaching in Mr. Constable’s fifth grade classroom, the very room that I had been in so many years before. It was in that very classroom at 11 years of age, that I made the decision to act as a public servant and shape lives, just as he, Mrs. Johnson, and Mr. McGovern had done in the 3rd and 4th grades.

I had many more teachers that I admired as I continued throughout my school career. They helped to mold me and shape me into the teacher I am today. Some showed me what I DIDN’T want to be like, and that was important too. So, on this 28th Teacher Appreciation Day, I want to publicly thank those who played an active role in helping to guide, shape, and train me to be the educational professional I am today. Your tireless dedication and devotion to your students has not been unnoticed and I am so grateful for the impact that you made on my life and the lives of others. May there be a special blessing awaiting you in Heaven for your dedication and service.

So this week, as I anticipate the showering of gifts, food, and thoughtful notes, may I remember that whether the children remember me in the years to come, or not, I am setting a seed and playing an immeasurable role in molding and shaping young minds. It is an act of service that is taken seriously, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

To others: I urge you to take the time to thank a teacher. Every card, clothing item with the school emblem, cup, and pen are saved and cherished. Food, flowers, gift cards for coffee, and treats make their day and give them the courage to keep moving forward, doing what they love, even on the tricky days. To my teachers: Thank You. To my parents: Thank You. To my colleagues: Thank you. To my children’s teachers: Thank you. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

Happy National Teacher Appreciation Day!  images

 

 

 

A Song In My Heart

31398065_10214859857004016_7297388734301863936_n

This week I was able to wear sandals to school. It was a big deal after a very long winter. The snow is finally melting. I’ve seen some sunshine, and taken a few walks.

One morning I was blessed with eight deer grazing on the back lawn during a sunrise. Despite some rather challenging circumstances, these blessings have carried me through the first week back after school vacation. Moreover, I have had the opportunity to have rich conversations about faith, hope, and love with some special friends and family. This has improved my mood, and as a result, I’ve been playing the radio and tapping my freshly painted toes to the radio.

As I sit in the window overlooking the valley, my first thought is that I am thankful for spiritual supports and friends who “ironically” show up at just the right moments. In my travels, special songs seem to hit the spot at just the right moment and the lyrics “talk” to my soul like the sweet dance of the ocean waves. Another coincidence?

This week I have been listening particularly closely to the David Crowder Band. “I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory… and how great Your affections are for me.” My heart melts with the message that He loves me no matter what and that He is jealous for me. It leaves me wondering why? What’s so great about me?

My recent “ah ha” is that everyone goes through crap. Some people’s pile is deeper than other’s, but we all have it and it all stinks. The difference is that those who profess faith are watched more carefully than others. Observers want to see how I respond to trials and if I “walk the walk”, and “mean what I say”. It’s how observers can tell if my belief system is genuine so I have a huge responsibility.

Another recent realization is that sometimes trials are not about ME. Perhaps I’m being used by my Maker to teach others a lesson. Wow! “If it’s true, you use broken things, then here I am Lord, I’m all yours.” (Matthew West) I’ve been broken, twisted, stomped on, and dragged through the valley. I mess up regularly, and am absolutely not a perfect example. However, I do try each day to live my life in a way that is honorable and glorifying. There is nothing special about me, and I don’t say that to fish for a compliment. I have money challenges, battle with my weight, fight internally with jealousy, and my self-confidence wanes just like everyone else. I know that I am not the most talented teacher, parent, wife, sibling, community or staff member, but I just keep plugging along. “Though I fall, He makes me new…He pleads my cause and rights my wrongs. ” (Lauren Daigle) I often pray for relief. I’m not going to lie. I am no different from anyone. I have a sweet friend praying desperately for her dog, doubly challenged by the recent passing of her mother. She is faithful, and kind, and doesn’t deserve the pain. I have another who is up to her eyeballs in the evils of the world and her family is saddened by recent events in the area. Why? Why do the faithful, the ones who live each day, trying to live as an example of faithfulness find themselves drowning? “When he doesn’t move the mountains or part the water, as I cry out to him, I have had to learn to trust”.  (Lauren Daigle) His love surrounds me. I need to keep doing what I am told to do and trust that God has this all figured out. He is using me for His glory. My only hope is to trust in my Maker because “he is the anchor and his love surrounds us in the eye of the storm.” (Ryan Stevenson)

 

There is a better life to look forward to. What a wonderful promise that I will live in eternity separated from the evil and sadness of the world. He is a “pain taker, way maker, and a chain breaker.” (Zach Williams) “See ya later”, will be a whole lot easier to say than “good-bye” and it’s my job to demonstrate to all that I am in contact with, the blessings and promises of our Lord. I have to ask myself, that if He guarded me from hardships, how could he use me for his good work?

I have to keep moving forward, and cast my fear into the fire. “Fear is a liar, he will take your breath and stop (me) in (my) steps”. (Zach Williams) “There is power in the name of Jesus” (Jesus Culture) and I prefer to follow Him. What if I’m all wrong? I’ve lost nothing and learned to live as a more quality human being, but if I’m right, I have everything to gain. So if my faith gives me courage to face each new unpredictable day, and gives me comfort and hope in an eternal life with those I love most, and reminds me to love everyone- even the ones who have not earned it, or hurt me, I have lost nothing. So today, I thank the music ministry that has reminded me in lyrics that stick in my brain throughout my daily routines, that God loves me, and that there is “power in the name of Jesus” (Tasha Cobbs). You’ve kept me sane. Thank you.
“The sun comes up
It’s a new day dawning
It’s time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass
And whatever lies before me
Let me be singing
When the evening comes”
(Matt Redman)
“When we realize we’re helplessly dependent on God, we’re in a good place”  (Lisa Appelo)