Arrows

Today I had 145 new sixth graders come through my classroom. Most were petrified, some were fairly nervous, and a few were trying to prove that even though they are now at the bottom of the junior high food chain, they were still just as cool as ever. It made me chuckle when my first class sat in their assigned seats and stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything, to break the ice.

I chose Hebrews 10:24 as my class verse this year, which says, "And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds." As I was urging my students to encourage each other instead of relying on the sarcasm that so often accompanies junior high insecurities, I began to think about all those people in my own life that encourage me. When I first met my husband, he used a phrase that soon became part of our vocabulary together. He told me that he wanted to be "an arrow to Christ" for me, so that every time I looked at him, I would be pointed to the Lord. In this way, Ben has shown me over the years how to be a woman of God. Now I have another nine months to work with these particular students and be an arrow to Christ for them. I pray that as they learn to encourage one another that I would be the example that they can count on.

My parents have also been arrows for me, and I have realized this especially in the past few years that I've been away from home. I am so thankful for their wisdom and instruction, and for their friendship in recent years. My sister, while younger, is an incredible example of kindness and compassion that I look to for guidance. Even my younger brother who is growing in his faith has given me the opportunity to seek Christ with a more fervent passion. I am so blessed to have these people and more in my life that I want to be sure that I'm not just absorbing. I need to be squeezed on occasion to spread the encouragement to others. Some of my students come from Christian homes, but the majority are at the school just to get a solid education. What an opportunity I have to share the love of God! My goal this year: to be an arrow to Christ for my students.

The Mundane

I started this blog several months ago, and as evidenced by my lack of postings, I have neglected it. Why? Not necessarily because of lack of time, or even for lack of material. I guess when it comes down to it, lately I just don't feel like I have anything profound to say. I know others who have struggled with the concept of blogging because they feel it is a waste of time. Others say that if they are going to spend time blogging, they need to have a theological point or spiritual challenge to make it worthwhile. I am not against this; I enjoy reading the thoughts of those brilliant minds and I am encouraged to live daily for my Lord. But I must admit, I'm often intimidated. I tend to be wordy when I write, though I'm always telling my students to be more concise. At the root of it, I'm afraid I'll be seen as mediocre. Not that it should matter; I don't live my life for others. Nor do I even write for them. I write because I enjoy it, and I know I can use it to glorify God. Even when I have nothing to say, words can be powerful.

Rain

It is raining.

And I don't just mean a light Bay Area sprinkle. No, it is absolutely pouring outside. And it's freezing. Like if you breathe in too deeply your lungs will turn to ice. I know that after making the walk to my car, I will be completely drenched for the drive home.

And yet...

I love it. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that I will always be a Pacific Northwest girl at heart, so the rain is comforting and reminds me of home. Or maybe I'm just looking for a good excuse to curl up on my overstuffed couch with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a good book, with the shades wide open so I can better hear the raindrops on the windowpanes. Either way, it doesn't matter.

I am so thankful for the changes in weather. Having lived in California for the past 12 years, I have definitely acclimated to the sunshine, but the rain and clouds remind me that there are seasons of life. Not every day can be exactly like you planned it. I love being able to wear sundresses and drink lemonade in the summer, but without the winter, would I enjoy it as much? And without the scorching heat of August, would I still appreciate the winter rains? God knows so much more than we do. The fact that he controls how many drops of rain fall to the ground and how many gusts the wind is allowed to blow amazes me. What a powerful God we serve!

The Sixth Grade

There was an article in the paper the other day, in a sort of advice-column format, that addressed the upcoming holiday that those who are in love, LOVE, and those who aren't in love, pretend to hate. Yes, the almighty Valentine's Day. In this particular article, "Wondering in Wilmington" asked if the signs her guy friend was sending indicated that he was indeed interested in pursuing more than just a friendship with her. Since marrying my husband two and a half years ago, I no longer look for these signs, yet with so many single friends, I hear about them frequently. Because of this, I was intrigued by the answer to "Wondering." The columnist responded with dogged determination that when it comes to pursuing women, men never mature beyond the sixth grade. The same signs that a boy liked you back then, the teasing, the shoulder-punching, the stealing-of-the-notebook... they mean the same thing now that they did once upon a time. Apparently, the only difference is that by the time these men reach their 20s and 30s, they think that all their experience since the sixth grade has made them better at it.

Aside from the fact that I am lucky enough to be married to a man who is among the minority (you know, those who matured beyond junior high), I must admit that this made me chuckle. I can't count the times that friends have come to me asking, "Did your husband do (insert aforementioned sign here) to you before you started dating to show that he was interested?" because they have been the unfortunate recipients of a salt-instead-of-sugar prank.

I have 135 sixth graders pour into my classroom each day, and it is interesting to see them interact with one another. However, if what the newspaper columnist said is true, my job is going to mean more than just making sure they understand the difference between predicate nominatives and direct objects. I need to be sure that they understand that the world gives them little credit for who they can become. It is easy to be part of the status quo, especially when the expectations are so low. And I'm not just talking about the ways that the boys treat the girls when they like them... I mean the way their minds function when they interact with others in general. My hope is that by the end of the year they will have learned more than just grammar and literature and vocabulary...

I hope they will have learned to be seventh graders.

Because of Dad

I've finally joined the ranks of the bloggers. It wasn't enough that most of my friends from college have their own blogs, or that a friend from across the country suggested I peruse her postings for pictures of her new baby, or even that as a teacher I have plenty of things to write about (though not always the time). No, what finally convinced me was that my father started one. I have always been my father's daughter. Even though I may look just as my mother did when she was younger, which I hope will continue as I grow older, I have always shared my father's love of words. Listening to him speak and reading what he has written have always fascinated me. So when he started posting his musings, of course, I felt that I must follow in his footsteps. Part of me is hesitant to write, as if it will somehow expose a side of myself that not many people get to see. However, if Daddy can do it, I should at least try. Thanks, Dad, for the inspiration.