"Not playing" is never an option.

I found my clarinet at my parent’s house over Thanksgiving. My mom, somehow, was able to talk me into helping her get all 20 tubs of Christmas decorations down from the storage area above their garage, and there it was. Just sitting there. It’s funny how something as simple as a musical instrument can ignite old memories that sometimes feel like they just happened yesterday and at other times they feel like they belonged to someone else. Almost as if I only heard them as a story.

As I opened the case, I tried to remember the last time I played. I couldn’t. Sometime in college. Marching band. Sophomore year. Fall of 2002. Almost 10 years ago.

Maybe I can remember.

Right before Christmas break at Harding, marching band was over, and we were practicing for our Christmas concert to be preformed in chapel. I wasn’t even sure I was going to play because I had just had my wisdom teeth removed, not exactly conducive to playing an instrument, but “not playing” wasn’t exactly an option.

Instead of a memory, maybe it's one big metaphor for my life. The concert went on as planned, not necessarily dependent on my presence. 10 years later at 11:40pm it doesn't seem to have made a huge difference in the world. No one remembers that concert but me, I guess. There were much better musicians in that band than I could ever pretend to be, my my wonderful skills as a clarinetist weren't exactly critical. And yet, 10 years later at 11:40pm, this memory floods my brain, with the resounding theme that seems to have stuck with me.

You always show up. You always play. After all, not playing is never an option.

Right?

Longing for a time...

I'm sitting on my couch with my computer open to my blog and my ipad open to Psalms knowing that the writer of Psalms seems to know my heart. As I try to choose just one song or poem from the heart of David, I am discovering it's ALL of them. Somehow I have a kindred spirit with David as I read his writing. His heart seems to follow the same pattern as my heart. He seems to be conflicted constantly between the joy and celebration of who God is and at the same time, long for protection, love, mercy, revenge, healing, knowledge, and relief. He seems to go in "shifts" of requests, praise, and anger all coming from the same heart.

My heart is going in shifts today. When I try to choose just one song or poem, I am discovering that there isn't one. How do you express one heart when it is all broken into pieces? Not all bad pieces, just different pieces with vastly different songs. Some pieces are praise, mercy, compassion, and love. Right now, the song that seems to be the biggest piece is a longing for healing. My family seems to be running parallel with my heart, in pieces; or maybe my heart is a reflection of the heart of my family.

Some pieces are in celebration for a new life being added to our family. Some pieces of anger hidden beneath a blanket of tears and hurtful words between our family. Other pieces long for protection and mercy, for compassion and understanding for our family.

All pieces long for a time of healing.

This is my psalm:

How long, oh Lord, will my heart and my family be in pieces? How long will it be? Surely there will be a time when everyone is healed. Surely there will be a time when You have seen enough suffering from the people You love. How long will You be silent? Are you silent? Why can't I hear You?

How long, oh Lord, will the pain seem to override the joy? The joy takes hold for a short time, but is fleeting. How long will it be? Surely you see my dad's pain. Surely you see my mom's pain. Surely you can see how complicated it all seems. Can't you see how broken everything is? How can You watch while it all unravels? Help me hear You. Show me Your love. I beg for understanding and compassion when anger and pain seem to blind me.

Community

I never watched the TV show "Cheers". Since shows like "Roseanne" and "The Simpsons" were off the table, it's no surprise that my parents banned a show in which the setting is in a bar. I've seen reruns, and I would probably recognize the theme song if I heard it. I even know a few bits and pieces about the show's purpose. (Don't tell my parents.) Today, the lyrics caught my attention.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows your name.

I'll get straight to the point. While reading these lyrics, it shocked me that I want exactly what these words say. A community. Coming to the realization that this community they are referring to is a bar hits me hard. With no intention of making judgments on the bar setting, on the contrary, the lyrics of this song remind me of the community I long for with other Christians. A community that knows me. A group of people that hold me accountable and in check for my choices and my thoughts. I do have a type of community. I have several people in my life that know me. This is very true, and I value those people more than anything. My realization of community comes after reflecting on the idea of community. It's not a new concept to me as I have heard it since I was a kid, the Body of Christ and its parts - Sunday School 101. The newness comes from the idea that each part contributes to the whole. (I'm sure I'm already supposed to know that. Oh well.) Yes, you need each part, and every part has a role. But a role for what? That part is participating in something greater than parts. It's participating with the purpose of making something whole. They aren't supposed to be disconnected parts. They are supposed to be connected. Connected to other parts to form one body.

I feel like I'm disconnected. I'm connected with a few other parts in many different places, but I'm missing the whole. The hard part - it's my choice. In all this, I know it's my choice to be disconnected. For whatever reason or excuse I have, legitimate or not, It's my choice. I have been satisfied with limiting my connection to the whole body. It's easier. It's comfortable.

Then again, I guess if it was easier, I wouldn't feel the lack of community.

Lord, help me choose to be connected. Somehow, somewhere. Help me get over my fear of being uncomfortable. Show me how to get over my excuses of traveling, work, and family. Break apart my thoughts of arrogance that no one does it right. Keep me from believing I can do it on my own all the time. Give me the strength to resist being disconnected because it's easier. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

Unannounced Visit

Sometimes when I'm in my apartment I think I have quite a bit of space, and I do when just one or two people are here. Friday night, we squished 7 adults and 3 kids in my little apartment! Mom and dad stayed the night, and mom and I went shopping all day today. I was able to find some new pillows for my couch and some patio furniture. For my birthday that is coming up, my mom bought me two plants for my porch. It looks great. What a great weekend!

My new Patio furniture

Beautiful Hibiscus my mom bought me for my Birthday

Two Two year old boys learning on RaRa's ipad

Dad, Matt, and Mark solving all problems of the world

Isaac practicing his standing

Aaron and Eli's favorite place at RaRa's house

"RaRa, I want paint wit you."

Seriously, how do you say "no" to that? After spending a little time at home today, working on school stuff, I headed down to Tullahoma to fulfill the wishes of a little boy. As soon as I arrived, Aaron and I headed to Walmart to buy a few supplies so we could paint. A couple canvases and some washable paint later and we were on our way to a masterpiece. Aaron picked ALL the colors and designs.

THIS...MUCH

Before you get to see the surprise, you need the background story.

Two years ago, Gloria and I loaded up her jeep and drove from Washington state to Kentucky. Elayna was 10 months old. A few months after we got there, I was trying to explain to EV how much I loved her. I would ask her, "How much does your Eeooch love you? THIS....MUCH!" I would put my hands out as far as I could while I said, "THIS...MUCH!" After about 10 or 20 times of helping her put her hands out, she started doing it with me each time I would ask her how much her Eeooch loved her. Eventually, every time she saw me, whether I asked her my famous question or not, she would stretch her hands out. Her hands gradually started getting closer and closer. She soon developed a new "sign" that represented me, hands about shoulder width apart and moved up and down. Several years and a few more nephews and nieces later, she has now started calling me "RaRa" just like the boys, but that famous question is still very much alive inside both of us.

While checking my mail this morning, I discovered an envelop from my two wonderful nieces. I was expecting a fun little card or maybe a beautiful picture colored by Elayna with some evidence of Cora some where in the corner. INSTEAD, I opened the envelop to discover this...

From a Prison Cell

WHO AM I? by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell's confinement

calmly, cheerfully, firmly,

like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

freely and friendly and clearly,

as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune

equably, smilingly, proudly,

like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

struggling for breath, as though hands were struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat,

yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,

tossing in expectation of great events,

powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?

Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army

fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of

mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

The Weirdest Feeling

A few of the weirdest feelings:

* For the first night of this school year, I do not have any work for school. Oh, oh, there is plenty of work to do for NEXT year, but for this year, work is done! It is possibly the weirdest feeling ever. Note: I am sitting on my couch wondering if I'm totally crazy because my thoughts are drifting into getting a head start for next year. Ha ha.

* Today was the last day with my 7th graders. This year felt like it ended all of a sudden. I'm definitely ready for a break from work, but I'm not so sure I'm ready to give up my kids quite yet. It's a funny feeling to stand up in front of my kids and end our time together with a test. The only words I could find were, "Make sure you have a pencil." It didn't feel like the end. I will miss them. What a place they have reserved in my heart. What a weird feeling.

* I was brought to tears by a card written by one of my kids today. Somehow, she was able to grasp the dream that I prayed for daily and desired for every student this year. Even through all the chaos, rushing, and craziness of the year, she was able to see my love and passion for teaching. Such an encouragement!

* My first 7th grade class at Shafer are freshman! Today, for the first time, I had students come back to see me before they leave for high school. What a surreal feeling! The joy and tenderness that I felt as I hugged them goodbye reminded me of the place they have in my heart. I am now friends with those kids on Facebook, a coveted privilege they reminded me of that previously had not been theirs. How weird!

*I signed a new lease on my apartment today. This marks the first time since moving out of my parent's house that I will live in the same place for more than a year. Weird, but definitely awesome!

What a blessed life I have been given.

It's amazing how much they have grown!

Here are a few pictures of "the boys" from last weekend.

Aaron holding Isaac

Eli and Aaron sharing a little personal space

A little bit of rest time with a Ra Ra

Playing with Isaac

Aaron and Eli playing with their letters

I know why my kids lack perspective. What's your excuse?

Beware! Slightly passionate blog, comin' at ya!

My post comes from the thoughts swirling in my head with a focus that has a somewhat narrow audience. Teachers.

Or is it just teachers? No. I think it’s broader than that. I keep trying to put my finger on the deeper rooted issues that push people to stand against or in favor of a cause. Currently, Tennessee is experiencing change in the education system. In recent months, the change has provoked the teachers’ union. Let me be clear before you read any further, I have never been a “union person”. Whatever that means or is supposed to mean, that’s what I mean. Since this whole situation has developed, my feeling has intensified. When did the focus of education become the teachers? When did the focus of education become about how much I make as an educator? I completely disagree with the concept “what is good for the teacher, is good for the student.” What a selfish perspective by people who are supposed to be building a nation. In case any teachers slept through class the day they taught you about teaching, the focus is the students.

When did the philosophy of Americans become, “We are a democratic nation and WE elect our leaders, but if the one I wanted doesn’t win, I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs that my rights are being violated. I going to make sure that if I don’t get my way, the entire process is a living hell for everyone else. My “convictions” aren’t my focus any longer; my focus is now to make sure that whatever you stand for, I oppose it because you stand for it. On top of that, I will go to every person I know and tell them how they are being mistreated by the current leadership. Let me define mistreatment. It means you don’t get your way.

That is exactly the OPPOSITE way of thinking I beg my students to adopt every day. I preach about not feeling entitled to everything I see just because someone else has it or I simply want it. Why is it justified by teachers to say one thing in the classroom, but when it really comes down to it, be just as selfish as the students. Excuses are easy. I’m starting to have difficulty deciphering between my students excuses and some of my colleagues. My students think they are mistreated all the time. I know they are not mistreated, but they are young and just don’t have the perspective they need. They don’t appreciate education, and I am happy to provide that perspective when needed. What’s your excuse for your lack of perspective?

We were not coerced into teaching. We chose it. Could you imagine a nurse going through years of schooling, passing their board certification, going to work in a hospital and then starting a petition to get rid of blood in the operating room? How obscured!

Respectfully, if you don’t like teaching, go do something else. Walmart is always hiring.

A couple really cute boys! :)

One quick trip to Cookeville made for a very happy "Ra Ra" and some very sweet little boys. :) Enjoy the pictures!

Brothers!

Taking a little nap.

Ra Ra and Isaac

A little something extra in my laundry basket...

Doesn't get much cuter!!

Hitler and Jesus

Disclaimer: This post may be disturbing. Read at your own risk.

Would I have believed Hitler’s message? I realize that is a disturbing question.

Would I have believed the message of Jesus? That is equally disturbing for me.

I’ve often wondered what was so appealing about Adolf Hitler. Was he an eloquent speaker? Of course, my perspective and understanding of Hitler is created by the textbooks and “teaching” of America. My curiosity, however, is sparked by the people that followed him. The people that were attracted to him seemed to be educated, intelligent people. What about him was so attractive? Was his message so appealing that it was irresistible? If I had lived in Germany during the rising of Adolf Hitler, would I have believed his message of a pure race and superiority of my country? Why not? I will concede that I can’t imagine condoning the way he carried out his plan (death camps, world domination), but again, if that was my paradigm, why not? Obviously, there were Germans that disagreed with Hitler. Maybe that would have been me. Am I so arrogant to think that America is exempt and immune to the desire of world domination? Wait, isn’t America a world power? All of a sudden parts of America that stink of racism, stereotyping, and prejudice flood my thoughts. Again, what made Hitler’s message so believable to so many people? What makes America’s view of superiority so appealing? He is such a monumental figure in the history of the world. I am always intrigued by people who have so much power, others would give their life to protect or defeat the source of that power.

Would I have believed the message of Jesus? This question is somewhat different than the previous question. The above thoughts about Adolf Hitler stem from a “what if” situation due to the fact that I never have believed the message of Adolf Hitler. This next question finds its origin in a belief that already exists. If I had lived during the time of Jesus, would I have believed and followed him, or would I have resisted him? My question cannot be: what makes the message of Jesus attractive? I am already attracted. The question, then, is would I have still believed if I didn’t know the whole story. The followers of Jesus were mostly poor, uneducated, and hurt. Their lives were a mess. Not only did these people follow Him, but they seemed to seek him out every where he went, and HE looked for them. The people he rebuked and corrected, the educated and powerful, didn’t even know they didn’t get it. Again, would I have believed the message of Jesus? Honestly, it looks like a disturbing message.

“Come live with me. We’re going to go around and make a ton of people mad by explaining who God really is, do some miracles, make you question EVERYTHING you believe in, and get really close to each other. You will be confused by almost everything I say and miss the point most of the time. Then, I’m going to be murdered by the people we made mad; I’ll come back to life, and then leave again. You will won’t get it. Don’t worry because after I leave you for the second time, an invisible spirit will come and be with you. I’ll be back, but I’m not sure when. Keep telling other people about how much I love them, and treat them like I would if I was there. Meet with other people that believe in me and learn more about me by reading the scriptures that the educated people I rebuked always read but never understood. Good luck. Pray like I did. Be good.” - Jesus

I don’t write that to be disrespectful. It just seems messed up. I really want to say I would have believed in the message of Jesus no matter when I was born. One thing I am positive of: if what I just typed was the story of Jesus and was his message, I would not have believed. There has to be more.....and I think there is.

Stay tuned...