And there is no way around that.
I feel like I hear stories all the time that end with the teacher saving some student's life or being the mother figure in the kid's life or changing the world with her music.
Let me clarify:
Yes. That happens. It's possible it has even happened already in my classroom. But, at least right now, at least for me, that is not the norm.
The norm looks more like this:
I walk into my school at 7:03 AM and already have 4 girls waiting outside my door for rehearsal. Early morning, no water, middle school girl rehearsal. Voices are whining and screeching and complaining rehearsal. Eyes are heavy rehearsal. Spirits are weary from the early hour rehearsal.
We sing through all our audition pieces and it is no surprise that only 1 of now 6 students has practiced since last week. I struggle through the songs with them, teaching notes I've taught at least a dozen times.
7:50 hits as the bell rings to go to class. I frantically head to the copier to make copies. Even though I was there until 5:00 PM the day before, I forgot to make copies. Again.
Copies in hand, I return to my first hour chaos. And chaos is usually the most appropriate choice of words.
I struggle, laugh, cry, sing, yell, and talk my way through 6 hours of classes. Six different times I let myself get frustrated. Six times I listen as my choirs and classes aren't quite where I want them. Some days it is six different times I lose control.
7th Hour comes and I welcome the silence that is Planning Period... until I look at the massive to-do list on the never-ending sticky on my laptop.
And the reality is - I never get it done.
I never finish everything on my to-do list.
I always forget one so very important item.
I always feel a little more behind each day.
There is always something else. There is always an extracurricular activity I have to attend. Or a concert for which I need to prep. Or a fundraiser I need to count.
And when it all boils down this chilly Fall Break - I am tired.
I am tired of to-do lists. Tired of the feeling of inadequacy that haunts me. Tired of the forgotten things sneaking up on me, making my stomach hurt.
Yes. Being a teacher is hard. But, using one of the most valuable tools I gained from my Pathways training, it is only hard. It's not too hard (although many days it seems that way). It's just hard.
And I can do hard.
So Monday I will walk into my school at 7:03 to the weary faces of middle school girls forced to wake up before 7:00 AM. I will have an all-day rehearsal on Monday, a concert on Tuesday, a fundraising delivery on Wednesday, and an all-day audition process on Saturday. I will be tired. I will feel inadequate.
But I will rest in the fact that my identity is not in the things I do and don't do at school. I am a strong, beautiful, confident woman who can make my own decisions because that's how God made me.
I will rest in the I AM who made my "I am" part of His story.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Photo Scavenger Hunt*: October 2012
*Taken from Diva Girl Parties and Stuff
Looking for something fun to do with your family and friends?? For the next week, I'd like to invite you to participate in the first annual October Photo Scavenger Hunt!! The rules are simple and there are prizes involved.
Rules:
1. Have fun!!
2. Compile a team (as few as 2, as many as 1,000).
3. Complete as many items as possible on the following Photo Scavenger Hunt list.
4. Make a Facebook album of all your photos, labeling each with the number from the list.
5. Comment on this post that you are participating, providing a link to your Facebook album.
6. There will be (really awesome) prizes for:
Albums will be judged next Friday, October 19, after 10:00 PM. Happy Hunting!!
Photo scavenger hunt list...
Looking for something fun to do with your family and friends?? For the next week, I'd like to invite you to participate in the first annual October Photo Scavenger Hunt!! The rules are simple and there are prizes involved.
Rules:
1. Have fun!!
2. Compile a team (as few as 2, as many as 1,000).
3. Complete as many items as possible on the following Photo Scavenger Hunt list.
4. Make a Facebook album of all your photos, labeling each with the number from the list.
5. Comment on this post that you are participating, providing a link to your Facebook album.
6. There will be (really awesome) prizes for:
- Most pictures taken
- Most creative pictures
- Best photography
Albums will be judged next Friday, October 19, after 10:00 PM. Happy Hunting!!
Photo scavenger hunt list...
- 1. Take a picture of an unhappy child
- 2. Take a picture of a team member on a kiddie toy
- 3. Take a picture of a team member in six inch heels
- 4. Take a picture of a team members next to the tallest person you can find
- 5. Take a picture of an undressed mannequin
- 6. Take a picture of a made over team member
- 7. Take a picture of the most outrageous hat you can find
- 8. Take a picture of a team member in a leather jacket
- 9. Take a picture of an antique rocking chair
- 10 Take a picture of a leather couch
- 11. Take a picture of a gothic chandelier
- 12. Take a picture of a live animal with a team member
- 13. Take a picture of a team member with a security guard
- 14. Take a picture of a sentimental coffee mug
- 15. Take a picture of an unpopular logo
- 16. Take a picture of a team members twin (must be a stranger)
- 17. Take a picture of a pregnant woman
- 18. Take a picture of a team member wearing crazy sunglasses
- 19. Take a picture of a $75.00 tie
- 20. Take a picture of a trendy lantern
- 21. Take a picture of a man or woman that looks like a team members parent(s) or grandparent(s)
- 22. Take a picture of a job application
- 23. Take a picture of a business card
- 24. Take a picture of a team member using an iPad
- 25. Take a picture of a team member wearing a feather boa
- 26. Take a picture of a blue rose
- 27. Take a picture of a soccer ball
- 28. Take a picture of the entire team (except for the person taking the picture) against a blank wall
- 29. Take a picture of a dart board
- 30. Take a picture of a blue sequin pillow
- 31. Take a picture of an empty dressing room
- 32. Take a picture of an interesting painting
- 33. Take a picture of a team member planking/owling somewhere unusual
- 34. Take a picture of a team member with an angry store manager
- 35. Take a picture of a team member wearing a (Halloween) costume that is either too mature or too childish
- 36. Take picture of a team member with someone on another team
- 37. Take a picture of all of the team members sharing a fall drink
- 38. Take a picture of a stranger's eye
- 39. Take a picture of a stranger yawning
- 40. Take a picture of a snowman
- 41. Take a picture of something tacky
- 42. Take a picture of the mountains
- 43. Take a picture of a team member with food on their face
- 44. Take a picture of a team member slow dancing with a stranger
- 45. Take a picture of a board game none of the team members have ever played before
- 46. Take a picture of a grandfather clock
- 47. Take picture of a trophy
- 48. Take a picture of fake eyelashes
- 49. Take a picture of a yellow couch
- 50. Take a picture of a foreign food or product
- 51. Take a picture of a penny from 1990
- 52. Take a picture of a coffee bean
- 53. Take a picture of the most expensive perfume bottle's price tag
- 54. Take a picture of a team member chewing six pieces of gum
- 55. Take a picture of a team member wearing a jersey
- 56. Take a picture of a team member with someone who is at least 6 foot 5 (cannot be a team member)
- 57. Take a picture of a 20 dollar bill
- 58. Take a picture of a moon
- 59. Take a picture with an employee with the same name as a team member
- 60. Take a funny group photo
Friday, September 28, 2012
Sweeping Up the Shards
I knew the glass was going to hit the tile floor long before it did.
It moved almost as if in slow motion.
I had finally decided to do the dishes because, let's face it, I only decide to do them if things are growing. (Ok, ok. It's not that bad, but I really really hate doing the dishes.)
Because there were so many, I had to wash a few glasses and put them in the dish rack. Those things are made to hold glasses, right? They even have the little pokey things on the outside to put extra glasses to dry! Perfect.
I had almost lost this particular glass already on this day. Counter space was hard to come by in my little apartment kitchen, and the glass apparently did not enjoy being placed so precariously on top of other glasses, bowls, and pans right beside my fridge.
I caught it then before it hit the ground.
The second time I wasn't so quick.
I turned around from the pantry and watched it slide
off the dish rack handle ever so slowly.
That heavy glass was no match for the
flimsy plastic of my lovely red dish rack.
There was no use in reaching my hand out to even try to catch it. All I could do was jump back to protect myself from the shards of glass about to take over my tiny kitchen floor.
I sighed and reached for the broom.
At least I wasn't attached to this set of hand-me-down glasses.
I began to sweep up the bits of glass, light reflecting off each piece.
I was impatient, though. Ready to get back to the one chore I hate the most just so it could be over. As I bent down to grab my dust pan, I noticed a small twinkling of light. And then another.
Tiny little shards I had missed with my broom.
Sighing again, I did a more thorough sweep. I was barefoot, after all. I didn't want this to end in injury.
Far too often than not, the first sweep through is
exactly how I handle my relationships.
A glass breaks. A harsh word is spoken.
A friend leaves. A request is ignored.
As I watch something fragile in my life break into many pieces, I grab the broom to sweep it all away. I have the one conversation. I reach out for a little while. I let them hear part of my heart.
But then I walk away, leaving tiny shards of glass all over the kitchen floor of my friendship.
When it comes right down to it, I don't care enough about myself, the friendship, or the other person to get down on the floor and make sure I get every last piece of glass. I get scared so I just leave it. Good enough, right?
Fast forward six months. Or a year. Or two years. Walking barefoot through the kitchen of my friendship, I step on a forgotten shard. Just because the big pieces were removed doesn't make the little pieces hurt any less. In fact, the surprise of those little, forgotten pieces possibly hurts more than those huge pieces I discarded immediately. After time and time again of stepping on the small pieces, I stop walking barefoot and start carrying a broom with me, lugging it around into every friendship as a constant reminder that no floor can be trusted.
But what would happen if I was thorough? What would happen if I swept everything away the first try? If I had those hard conversations letting my friends know they had hurt me or apologizing because I know I hurt them? If I consistently reached out to a distant friend, not letting distance litter my floor with bigger and bigger pieces of glass?
I think it's possible I could be barefoot again. I could feel comfortable without a broom in my hand for every relationship.
As I was thinking about writing this post this morning, I realized one of the most tragic things about this scenario: I do this with God.
I hide my frustrations, my anxieties, my hurts from the Creator of my soul because I'm too lazy to get on my hands and knees to sweep up the shards that are piercing my heart and life. And for what gain? A few more minutes on Facebook? More time napping so I can ignore my problems?
Two days ago I cautiously entered the kitchen created for my God and I, broom in hand. I wearily looked around because it had been too long since I'd been gone. Who knew how many pieces of glass were waiting to cut my tender feet?
But I decided it has been long enough. So for now I'm carrying my broom and sweeping up each tiny shard so that in the future I can put my broom down and enjoy a nice dance party in my kitchen with my God.
What shards of glass have you left unnoticed in your friendships?
With God?
It moved almost as if in slow motion.
I had finally decided to do the dishes because, let's face it, I only decide to do them if things are growing. (Ok, ok. It's not that bad, but I really really hate doing the dishes.)
Because there were so many, I had to wash a few glasses and put them in the dish rack. Those things are made to hold glasses, right? They even have the little pokey things on the outside to put extra glasses to dry! Perfect.
I had almost lost this particular glass already on this day. Counter space was hard to come by in my little apartment kitchen, and the glass apparently did not enjoy being placed so precariously on top of other glasses, bowls, and pans right beside my fridge.
I caught it then before it hit the ground.
The second time I wasn't so quick.
I turned around from the pantry and watched it slide
off the dish rack handle ever so slowly.
That heavy glass was no match for the
flimsy plastic of my lovely red dish rack.
There was no use in reaching my hand out to even try to catch it. All I could do was jump back to protect myself from the shards of glass about to take over my tiny kitchen floor.
I sighed and reached for the broom.
At least I wasn't attached to this set of hand-me-down glasses.
I began to sweep up the bits of glass, light reflecting off each piece.
I was impatient, though. Ready to get back to the one chore I hate the most just so it could be over. As I bent down to grab my dust pan, I noticed a small twinkling of light. And then another.
Tiny little shards I had missed with my broom.
Sighing again, I did a more thorough sweep. I was barefoot, after all. I didn't want this to end in injury.
Far too often than not, the first sweep through is
exactly how I handle my relationships.
A glass breaks. A harsh word is spoken.
A friend leaves. A request is ignored.
As I watch something fragile in my life break into many pieces, I grab the broom to sweep it all away. I have the one conversation. I reach out for a little while. I let them hear part of my heart.
But then I walk away, leaving tiny shards of glass all over the kitchen floor of my friendship.
When it comes right down to it, I don't care enough about myself, the friendship, or the other person to get down on the floor and make sure I get every last piece of glass. I get scared so I just leave it. Good enough, right?
Fast forward six months. Or a year. Or two years. Walking barefoot through the kitchen of my friendship, I step on a forgotten shard. Just because the big pieces were removed doesn't make the little pieces hurt any less. In fact, the surprise of those little, forgotten pieces possibly hurts more than those huge pieces I discarded immediately. After time and time again of stepping on the small pieces, I stop walking barefoot and start carrying a broom with me, lugging it around into every friendship as a constant reminder that no floor can be trusted.
But what would happen if I was thorough? What would happen if I swept everything away the first try? If I had those hard conversations letting my friends know they had hurt me or apologizing because I know I hurt them? If I consistently reached out to a distant friend, not letting distance litter my floor with bigger and bigger pieces of glass?
I think it's possible I could be barefoot again. I could feel comfortable without a broom in my hand for every relationship.
As I was thinking about writing this post this morning, I realized one of the most tragic things about this scenario: I do this with God.
I hide my frustrations, my anxieties, my hurts from the Creator of my soul because I'm too lazy to get on my hands and knees to sweep up the shards that are piercing my heart and life. And for what gain? A few more minutes on Facebook? More time napping so I can ignore my problems?
Two days ago I cautiously entered the kitchen created for my God and I, broom in hand. I wearily looked around because it had been too long since I'd been gone. Who knew how many pieces of glass were waiting to cut my tender feet?
But I decided it has been long enough. So for now I'm carrying my broom and sweeping up each tiny shard so that in the future I can put my broom down and enjoy a nice dance party in my kitchen with my God.
What shards of glass have you left unnoticed in your friendships?
With God?
Monday, July 23, 2012
Finding My Place
My name is Karissa and I don't have a place.
This has been my identity for so long. When my friends graduate before me, I don't have a place. And when I move to a new town, I don't have a place. When I'm not the best choir director, I don't have a place. And when I sit by myself in church, I don't have a place.
In my mind, there should be a small place carved out specifically for me everywhere I go. So what happens when there's not? Meltdowns in the form of shutting down and becoming defensive.
I didn't even realize I felt this way. Not until recently. But once I did realize it, my whole world was flipped upside down.
When I don't have a place - I don't matter.
When I don't matter - I panic.
When I panic - My world falls apart.
Dramatic much? Funny you should mention it. That's been the name of my game for so long.
Just stick with me.
I am a strong, beautiful, confident woman. I know this. Strong, beautiful, confident women don't need a specific place everywhere because they make their own place, right? So now that I know who I am, I won't ever feel like I don't have a place, right?
Oh, if it were that easy.
But it's not. Which brings me to this story.
I've also recently decided (thanks to a strange chain of events involving Arkansas, Patrick Mead, and some really fantastic people in my life) that I want to know Jesus.
But Karissa, you've been a Christian for so long? You mean you don't know Jesus?
Correct. More on that in the future. Just roll with it for now.
In wanting to know Jesus, I have started reading the Gospels more than I ever have before. They're fascinating. So yesterday in class at church, when my good friend Dave starts asking questions about Jesus' life, I was answering every single one. I've been immersed in the Gospels for a week. (And I'm a fast reader.) I knew the answers for which he was looking.
Except one.
Dave - "Jesus told his disciples he was going to do what?"
Karissa - "Prepare a room for them."
Dave - "Right. Prepare a place for them."
And class went on. That would have been it, because I didn't even really catch what Dave had said. He agreed with me! But God has placed an amazing man in my life who opens my eyes to truths I can't even see.
So while Dave was going on with class, this wonderful man sitting beside me acted on God's behalf.
He nudged me.
I turned to him.
Me - "I know I'm answering all of them because I've been reading the Gospels."
Him - "Did you hear that?"
Me - "Huh?"
Him - "He went to prepare a place for them."
Oh. My. Word.
A place. Jesus is preparing a place. I don't have appropriate words to express what happened to my heart in this moment. We both found the verse. (He on his iPhone, I in my old-fashioned concordance.)
I flipped to John 14:2
He's preparing a place for me.
I have a place.
I have a place.
It's only been a day. And I still hear the words that I don't have a place. But now they're echoed by something else.
Me - "I don't have a place."
Jesus - "You are wrong, sweet girl. I'm preparing one for you."
How comforting that while I'm getting to know Jesus, He already knows me. And knows the words I so desperately need to hear.
Did I mention that John 14 was already
prepared for my reading last night?
My name is Karissa and I have a place.
This has been my identity for so long. When my friends graduate before me, I don't have a place. And when I move to a new town, I don't have a place. When I'm not the best choir director, I don't have a place. And when I sit by myself in church, I don't have a place.
In my mind, there should be a small place carved out specifically for me everywhere I go. So what happens when there's not? Meltdowns in the form of shutting down and becoming defensive.
I didn't even realize I felt this way. Not until recently. But once I did realize it, my whole world was flipped upside down.
When I don't have a place - I don't matter.
When I don't matter - I panic.
When I panic - My world falls apart.
Dramatic much? Funny you should mention it. That's been the name of my game for so long.
Just stick with me.
I am a strong, beautiful, confident woman. I know this. Strong, beautiful, confident women don't need a specific place everywhere because they make their own place, right? So now that I know who I am, I won't ever feel like I don't have a place, right?
Oh, if it were that easy.
But it's not. Which brings me to this story.
I've also recently decided (thanks to a strange chain of events involving Arkansas, Patrick Mead, and some really fantastic people in my life) that I want to know Jesus.
But Karissa, you've been a Christian for so long? You mean you don't know Jesus?
Correct. More on that in the future. Just roll with it for now.
In wanting to know Jesus, I have started reading the Gospels more than I ever have before. They're fascinating. So yesterday in class at church, when my good friend Dave starts asking questions about Jesus' life, I was answering every single one. I've been immersed in the Gospels for a week. (And I'm a fast reader.) I knew the answers for which he was looking.
Except one.
Dave - "Jesus told his disciples he was going to do what?"
Karissa - "Prepare a room for them."
Dave - "Right. Prepare a place for them."
And class went on. That would have been it, because I didn't even really catch what Dave had said. He agreed with me! But God has placed an amazing man in my life who opens my eyes to truths I can't even see.
So while Dave was going on with class, this wonderful man sitting beside me acted on God's behalf.
He nudged me.
I turned to him.
Me - "I know I'm answering all of them because I've been reading the Gospels."
Him - "Did you hear that?"
Me - "Huh?"
Him - "He went to prepare a place for them."
Oh. My. Word.
A place. Jesus is preparing a place. I don't have appropriate words to express what happened to my heart in this moment. We both found the verse. (He on his iPhone, I in my old-fashioned concordance.)
I flipped to John 14:2
"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you."My heart was overwhelmed, as were my tear-filled eyes. I quickly dug for a pen in my over-crowded purse and began to underline words that were soothing a wound I didn't think could ever be healed.
He's preparing a place for me.
I have a place.
I have a place.
It's only been a day. And I still hear the words that I don't have a place. But now they're echoed by something else.
Me - "I don't have a place."
Jesus - "You are wrong, sweet girl. I'm preparing one for you."
How comforting that while I'm getting to know Jesus, He already knows me. And knows the words I so desperately need to hear.
Did I mention that John 14 was already
prepared for my reading last night?
My name is Karissa and I have a place.
Jam-Packed Summer
It is July 23. Which means school starts exactly one month from today.
One month!!
My summer has flown by and I think I've pretty much forgotten what it means to be a teacher. At least I have a month to figure that out.
In the meantime, a quick, 17-picture recap on my busy summer.
I went camping with some lovely ladies.
Watched this guy eat a 3 lb burrito.
We do some exciting things in Tulsa, lemme tell ya.
Made new friends.
Went to some weddings with
my best friend and my super hot boyfriend.
See?
Dominated some karaoke. (Let's just say, Usher was involved.)
Started Pathways Core Training. A brief explanation. Pathways is a life-training program that gives you the tools to create the life you've always wanted. It allows and encourages you to look at internal barriers that have been holding you back. It then helps you break down those barriers while giving you the tools to create a great life.
It's been the hardest, best thing I've ever done.
More to come on it in later posts I'm sure.
Hung out with some beautiful ladies from the boyfriend's family.
Saw some fireworks with my man.
Reunited with one of my best friends!
Celebrated Fourth of July with my family.
(Check out the cake. My mom's pretty cool, huh?)
Celebrated this guy's birthday.
Worked at a summer camp all summer long.
Went to Arkansas.
More specifically, Harding.
And took a photography class.
I'm sure there is so much I'm leaving out. It's been a tremendous, busy summer filled to the brim with friends, family, and love. It's been a summer of learning so much about myself and the people around me. It's been a summer of change.
But I don't think I'd have it any other way.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Saying Goodbye
I am writing this so some of you may be reminded of the sweet goodness of the Lord. I am writing this so some, including myself, may be comforted. I am writing this to say goodbye to one of the most truly amazing women I have ever, and probably will ever, known.
Nannie,
Today you went to be with our sweet Jesus. I don't know if this is the case, but I picture you running into His arms and then immediately holding Jonas, the precious grandson you never got to hold on this earth. Today you are no longer afraid of falling. You are no longer in constant pain, like you have been for at least 21 years. Today you are with our Lord, and I am so happy for you.
But today you also left a hole in my heart. I know I told you this a few weeks ago, but I want you to know you gave me some of the most precious gifts I could have fathomed. You gave me an imagination. As a little girl, I don't think it would have been possible to invent more imaginary friends. And you kept up with all of them! Orson, Peevee, Dottie, Lottie, and Cottie (the triplets, of course), and the infamous Sinny, to name a few. You communicated with me for hours when the only sounds I would make were barking. No one else could quite understand how intricate playing the role of Spot truly was. As I grew a little older, you watched politely (and clapped at the appropriate times!) when I would perform full one-woman shows of Oklahoma, Hello, Dolly, and Music Man. And I don't know if I could possibly count how many times you were the officiant at my various weddings, with the couch's arm cover as my veil and you holding the Reader's Digest (because of course it wasn't appropriate to use the Bible for a fake wedding). Nannie, how I wish you could be present at my real wedding one day. I bet I'll even get to wear a real veil!
You let me read to you for hours on end, cultivating a love of reading in me I still carry to this day. You let me talk your ear off about whatever was happening in my life, even though you knew none of the references I was making. You made jokes with me about Culp's hearing ("I think your butler's a little hard of hearing!"), when, in reality the last few years, it was you who needed the hearing aids. You always wanted to know what was happening in school, and never once forgot to tell me you were proud of me.
Nannie, you loved everyone around you with a deep, unquestioning love. You gave of yourself when there was seemingly nothing left to give. You and Culp taught me so much about marriage and living a life together devoted to our God.
In the past month or so, God has used the end of your life to speak tenderly over me, and I can't imagine a better person He could have used to do that. Some of the last intelligible words I heard you speak were, "Karissa. I love you." Nannie, I love you, too. And always will. The Lord has given me such peace in your passing. This morning I woke up and knew this was the day. I've been praying for it for a month, because I didn't want you to be in pain anymore. Last night, however, God sent me a dream about you. It was so vivid. You were sitting on a bed in a room similar to the office at your house. I came to you and we were talking like we would on any given day at your house. You were much more active, much more you than you have been recently. The conversation ended when you hugged me and told me how much you loved me. You were crying, which made me start to cry as well. You told me this was goodbye, and I said goodbye with my whole being. When I awoke, I prayed all morning the Lord would finally take you home. So when my mom called me this afternoon, I already knew what it was.
Nannie, you will be so missed. Your wit. Your jokes. Just your voice. Everything. Nothing will be the same. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, all of it will have a little piece missing. But I'm writing this in confidence that death has no victory or sting. Because of our wonderful Jesus, death has been swallowed up in victory! Praise the Lord! And praise the Lord that He saw fit to finally take you home.
I love you. I miss you.
Your granddaughter,
Karissa
Nannie,
Today you went to be with our sweet Jesus. I don't know if this is the case, but I picture you running into His arms and then immediately holding Jonas, the precious grandson you never got to hold on this earth. Today you are no longer afraid of falling. You are no longer in constant pain, like you have been for at least 21 years. Today you are with our Lord, and I am so happy for you.
But today you also left a hole in my heart. I know I told you this a few weeks ago, but I want you to know you gave me some of the most precious gifts I could have fathomed. You gave me an imagination. As a little girl, I don't think it would have been possible to invent more imaginary friends. And you kept up with all of them! Orson, Peevee, Dottie, Lottie, and Cottie (the triplets, of course), and the infamous Sinny, to name a few. You communicated with me for hours when the only sounds I would make were barking. No one else could quite understand how intricate playing the role of Spot truly was. As I grew a little older, you watched politely (and clapped at the appropriate times!) when I would perform full one-woman shows of Oklahoma, Hello, Dolly, and Music Man. And I don't know if I could possibly count how many times you were the officiant at my various weddings, with the couch's arm cover as my veil and you holding the Reader's Digest (because of course it wasn't appropriate to use the Bible for a fake wedding). Nannie, how I wish you could be present at my real wedding one day. I bet I'll even get to wear a real veil!
You let me read to you for hours on end, cultivating a love of reading in me I still carry to this day. You let me talk your ear off about whatever was happening in my life, even though you knew none of the references I was making. You made jokes with me about Culp's hearing ("I think your butler's a little hard of hearing!"), when, in reality the last few years, it was you who needed the hearing aids. You always wanted to know what was happening in school, and never once forgot to tell me you were proud of me.
Nannie, you loved everyone around you with a deep, unquestioning love. You gave of yourself when there was seemingly nothing left to give. You and Culp taught me so much about marriage and living a life together devoted to our God.
In the past month or so, God has used the end of your life to speak tenderly over me, and I can't imagine a better person He could have used to do that. Some of the last intelligible words I heard you speak were, "Karissa. I love you." Nannie, I love you, too. And always will. The Lord has given me such peace in your passing. This morning I woke up and knew this was the day. I've been praying for it for a month, because I didn't want you to be in pain anymore. Last night, however, God sent me a dream about you. It was so vivid. You were sitting on a bed in a room similar to the office at your house. I came to you and we were talking like we would on any given day at your house. You were much more active, much more you than you have been recently. The conversation ended when you hugged me and told me how much you loved me. You were crying, which made me start to cry as well. You told me this was goodbye, and I said goodbye with my whole being. When I awoke, I prayed all morning the Lord would finally take you home. So when my mom called me this afternoon, I already knew what it was.
Nannie, you will be so missed. Your wit. Your jokes. Just your voice. Everything. Nothing will be the same. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, all of it will have a little piece missing. But I'm writing this in confidence that death has no victory or sting. Because of our wonderful Jesus, death has been swallowed up in victory! Praise the Lord! And praise the Lord that He saw fit to finally take you home.
I love you. I miss you.
Your granddaughter,
Karissa
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
On Teaching and Inadequacy
I've decided I want to blog more because exciting things are happening in my life I want to remember. First year of teaching (it'll be funny eventually, right?), first time living on my own, making a life for myself. It's all great.
This post may start off as a bit of a downer. Stick with me, though! It'll get there.
This week I am really battling thoughts of inadequacy and feel led to share those thoughts. If you ever think you are really good at something and want to longer think that, become a public school teacher who teaches that something. Works like a charm.
There are only 15 school days left in this year. 15. And the closer it gets, the more inadequate I feel. Questions constantly race through my mind: Did I teach them enough? Did I make a difference at all? Why didn't I take them there? How could I have forgotten to do that? How will I find enough chaperones? What if it doesn't get approved? This is the soundtrack of my day. The underlying thought to all these questions is like the bass line keeping the beat going: "I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough." Over and over and over again until I'm as weary of that bass line as I am the often repeated, poorly played Justin Bieber songs continuously heard in my classroom.
The funny thing about a song getting stuck in your head is that you start singing it without realizing. When I'm warming up my choirs (I'm not good enough), when I'm teaching 12-bar blues (I'm not good enough), when I'm cooking dinner (I'm not good enough), and when I'm going to bed (I'm not good enough). Over and over and over again.
I'm sick of hearing it. I want someone to smash the stereo in my head so it won't play on repeat anymore. And that's when I turn to my Lord. In Him I find this crazy paradox that makes the cd skip just long enough to make me realize I can change the disc.
You see, my Jesus died for me because I wasn't good enough. But my Jesus makes me good enough. With that one statement, I'm able to put a new song on repeat.
When that parent calls to chew me out (You make me good enough), when I'm told how awful my decisions are (You make me good enough), when I go on an after-dinner walk (You make me good enough), and when I drift off to sleep (You make me good enough).
He makes me more than good enough. He makes me His.
So please proceed with the Bieber, excited student, I have my own new song to listen to.
This post may start off as a bit of a downer. Stick with me, though! It'll get there.
This week I am really battling thoughts of inadequacy and feel led to share those thoughts. If you ever think you are really good at something and want to longer think that, become a public school teacher who teaches that something. Works like a charm.
There are only 15 school days left in this year. 15. And the closer it gets, the more inadequate I feel. Questions constantly race through my mind: Did I teach them enough? Did I make a difference at all? Why didn't I take them there? How could I have forgotten to do that? How will I find enough chaperones? What if it doesn't get approved? This is the soundtrack of my day. The underlying thought to all these questions is like the bass line keeping the beat going: "I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough." Over and over and over again until I'm as weary of that bass line as I am the often repeated, poorly played Justin Bieber songs continuously heard in my classroom.
The funny thing about a song getting stuck in your head is that you start singing it without realizing. When I'm warming up my choirs (I'm not good enough), when I'm teaching 12-bar blues (I'm not good enough), when I'm cooking dinner (I'm not good enough), and when I'm going to bed (I'm not good enough). Over and over and over again.
I'm sick of hearing it. I want someone to smash the stereo in my head so it won't play on repeat anymore. And that's when I turn to my Lord. In Him I find this crazy paradox that makes the cd skip just long enough to make me realize I can change the disc.
You see, my Jesus died for me because I wasn't good enough. But my Jesus makes me good enough. With that one statement, I'm able to put a new song on repeat.
When that parent calls to chew me out (You make me good enough), when I'm told how awful my decisions are (You make me good enough), when I go on an after-dinner walk (You make me good enough), and when I drift off to sleep (You make me good enough).
He makes me more than good enough. He makes me His.
So please proceed with the Bieber, excited student, I have my own new song to listen to.
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