Cleaning Out My Closet

My sister is cleaning out her room this week. In interest of describing how badly it needed done, let me just say we shared the room more than five years ago--and she called me to ask if I could come and sort through the bags of things that were mine once. And, in order to get to the bags of my stuff, I had to step over bags of laundry, bags of trash, and bags of things to be donated....

So, since I was promised pizza in return for claiming some of the junk, Luke and I drove to Kokomo yesterday for a visit and a trip down memory lane with various things I had to decide whether to keep or pitch.

There were old SAT scores, yearbooks, and memorabilia from my first missions trip to Mexico, all of which I brought back home with me. And, I discovered countless bottles of glittery, fruit-scented body spray left from my middle school sparkle phase (and which I decided to continue living without).

My sis also found (and, of course, read through) the diary I kept as an 11-year-old, and I would LOVE to find a way to incorporate some of those pieces of literary genius in this blog at some point. It's too melodramatic and hormone-charged not to share with the world in the near future.

But, one of my FAVORITE treasures was the turtle collection I almost had forgotten about, including three keepsakes Luke bought for me on a trip to St. John's only months after we started dating:

AND, the turtle he made for me in art class shortly thereafter:

AND, the turtle which my then-5-year-old brother, Andrew, made upon admiring the collection from my boyfriend and deciding it still was incomplete:

HAHA! I LOVE this turtle! It may not look much like the one Luke made, but I think it resembles Squirtle from Pokemon:

Anyway, after I sifted through my old homework folders, half-used chapsticks, and the impression of my teeth used to make my retainer in 2004, I stumbled on a list of "goals" I made myself several years ago. I didn't write the date on it, but it's at least 4 years old, and may be even older... Here's what it said:

If you've read any of my previous entries, especially the ones talking directly about the importance of service, you know how closely my current goals still reflect what is written on this list (putting God and others first, especially.) But it's interesting to me because I don't even remember writing those goals, and I didn't realize just how long God has been burdening me with the idea of selflessness. Even the goal about "not sweating small stuff" comes from the problem I have of obsessing over the things I want, when I try to control of every, tiny detail of my life. When my "self" doesn't get the control it wants, I tend to "sweat."

Could it be God hasn't changed His mind about my purpose in all the years He has been speaking?

Sometimes I get goosebumps thinking about how long He has been planning my life, and how He cultivated interests, talents, and even certain topics of conviction in my head over time. There are noticeable patterns, which convince me even further that turning my selfishness into service is an important, noble, God-given goal.

(Note: other desires I had, according to my diary and which God has been priviledged to grant me, included a bedtime later than 8:00pm and to level-up in MarioKart... Also, I would have DIED for my own boy to kiss--and I have one of those now, too!)

Distracted by Emotional Autism

There is a boy in my class with profound autism--a case that keeps him from speaking or being toilet trained at the age of six. He presents many of the stereotypical characteristics of the disorder, such as rocking, humming, and becoming aggresive when he's aggitated...

Today--as I was having a "conversation" with him (I scolded him mildly for playing in the sink and he responded with a big grin and a couple "flaps" of his arms)--I started thinking about the book I read describing what it may be like to live in an autistic body.

Most experts believe the sensory function of people with autism is unusual, either heightened or diminished, so they don't hear, see, smell, taste, or feel things the way most people do. To simplify a very complicated disorder, autistic kids may spend hours listening to the sounds of their own bodies digesting, or looking at the contrast between a light and dark object, or smelling things you and I cannot even detect.

Their systems try very hard to adapt to the problem, so they intentionally seek out stimulation for their eyes, ears, and nose. One doctor compares it to the way your nose may adjust to a smell which is very strong when you first enter a room, so you don't notice it after a few minutes. An individual with autism tries to fix the kinks in their system by constantly exposing themselves to it, numbing their minds of it after awhile. But they spend so much time battling their senses--preoccupied within their own bodies--that they never get a chance to learn the speech and social patterns of the outside world.


Autism comes from the root "auto" meaning "self." As I thought about my student this morning, it occurred to me that he, literally, is self-absorbed. And it has produced dire consequences on his development.

On the other hand, when I think of it this way, he isn't as unusual as society may believe. Lots of people spend way too much time seeking their own fulfillment and letting their senses decide what is best for them. They give so much credit to their own "feelings" that they aren't concerned with anybody in the world around them.

Some of us are "emotionally autistic" due to pain or trauma, retreating into self-protection mode after abuse or neglect. This condition is equally heart-breaking as the physical one my student has. But--somehow--there must be a way to break through--to see "past the end of our nose" as Mary Poppins would say--to interact with the world as mature adults rather than letting self-absorption stunt our growth.

Mature adults know how to communicate, and they do so rather than becoming easily angered when stressed. Mature adults are aware of their feelings--but they don't let them rule their lives. And, finally, mature adults spend most of their time considering the needs of others, not listening to (and complaining about) the mixed signals in their own heads....

Emotions are important, and senses tell us key things about ourselves and our world. But I wish there was a way to help my student understand there is more to life than the confusing tangle of sensory input on which he has been fixated for so many years.

And I wish I could free the emotionally autistic individuals as well. Those who let anger, depression, and false euphoria distract them from what matters.

Wisdom Beyond Years

Several times this last month or two I've been told I'm "wise beyond my years."

I appreciate the compliment very much. I don't have an easy time relating to people my age because my beliefs and interests put me in a different category--and I already know I'm the weird one. So, it's reassuring when other people agree I don't fit in.

But, as a result of the comments lately, I've given a lot of thought to the idea of wisdom. And it makes me wonder why wisdom usually comes with old age--and not often before. Why are "wise" young adults the exception? And how can we stop that trend?
Then, lo and behold, the devotional I subscribe to via email spoke on the subject just today... The title was "A Word to the Wise," and I've copied the first part of it here:

Once there was a young man who, at the age of thirty-two, was appointed President of the bank. He had never dreamed that he would become president at all - much less at such a young age. So he approached the Chairman of the Board, a man known for his wisdom, and asked, "You know, I've just been appointed President and was wondering if you could give me some advice." The old man came back with just two words, "Right decisions!" The young man had hoped for a bit more than this. "That's really helpful and I appreciate it," he said, "but can you be more specific? For example, how do I make right decisions?" The wise old man pondered the question for a moment then simply responded, "Experience." Growing impatient, the young man said, "Well, that's why I am here. I don't have the kind of experience I need. How do I get it?" The terse reply quickly came, "Wrong decisions!"

It's kind of a cute story. Everybody loves grumpy old man quotes. I guess. But the tale plainly teaches that people need to make mistakes before they learn anything, and I plainly disagree.

The author of the devotional also gave an example of her 3-year-old daughter repeatedly attempting to stick her fingers in light sockets--despite being told "no" and that it would hurt her. She didn't learn her lesson until she finally got a shock, and it strongly reminds me of my brother, Tim. Mom always described him as a "kid who had to learn things the hard way," and he was. We can describe lots of people this way, actually.

But if there are people who have to "learn things the hard way," there must be people who do things the "easy way," too. And I believe that's where wisdom is found. "Easy way" people observe what happens to those sticking their fingers in light sockets, and they don't feel the need to do the same. I used to make Tim test the ramps we built in the street or the concoction of ingredients we mixed together from the fridge, before I decided whether to try it myself. I figured, whatever didn't kill him (or did, I suppose) would make ME stronger.

So, I agree that experience makes for wisdom. But we can't experience everything in life personally. Instead we need to interact with the people who have tried things (especially those who failed), and treat them as test subjects. We can read books and newspaper articles about hobbies, techniques for living, and even entire lifestyles we'd never have the opportunity to try for ourselves. This way, we don't have to be 50 or 60 to accumulate the lessons of a 50-or-60-year-old.

But the most important part is making the choice to learn something from the experiences of others, instead of insisting on learning the hard way. I really think that's the beautiful simplicity of wisdom. Listen, learn, apply. It really doesn't have to take years.

“A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels:” (Proverbs 1:5)

Write-a-Letter Wednesday, My Future Children

~~~I'm hoping to make this a regular thing: write a letter every Wednesday to a family member, friend, God, or anyone else who has impacted me that week. ~~~



Dear Future Children,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. When will you come? What will you look like? Do we have enough money saved? And have your daddy and I learned enough about love to be gentle, patient, kind parents in the near future?


I worry, little ones, about whether I've killed enough of myself to be a godly mother. Or, will the pressures and stress of everyday life warp the progress I've made? I see so many examples of out-of-control children fighting with their stressed-out, end-of-their-rope parents, and I don't want to be the angry mom at Walmart. Plus, I work with kids who have disorders and whose parents are overworked and underprepared to deal with it, and I'm sure they have asked themselves whether they made a mistake have children when they did. I don't blame them. Some of my students are difficult for me to love, even with the Holy Spirit helping me.

And I have a confession: I'm always glad to go home to a quiet house at the end of the day. I love my naps and reading time. I enjoy writing on my blog. I like that the floors and windows stay clean for awhile after I wash them, instead of being covered with toys or fingerprints within a few minutes. Am I still too selfish to have my habits changed so drastically once you come into my life?

But I know God has big plans for you and me. I'm so excited about teaching you--science and math and language. I want to answer all of your questions! I'm ready to kiss you and smile with you and tell people "thank you" when they compliment your curly, strawberry-blond hair. (It seems your geneology makes that inevitable. You're in for some big feet, too. Sorry.) And I will be so priviledge to help you navigate the stumbling blocks on this earth, ultimately to arrive at the Truth in life. Yes, I know there are plenty of beautiful moments ahead.
---

Little ones, some of you may join our family in unexpected ways--as God has been planting ideas about fostering and adopting in my head. I know He has equipped me to handle many chaotic, unconventional scenarios, and I've promised Him to use my emotional and psychological resources if he will provide the physical means to care for our group. And, since He never lets us down when me make a bargain like that, I can't wait to see who He brings into our lives.

Also, I'm so happy that God has given you a wonderful father, who loves me and will love you unconditionally forever and ever. You can trust him with everything, and when you climb on his lap, you will better understand the peace and comfort of your Heavenly Father's arms, too. What else could we ask for in a family?

But my prayer is that I'll find a way to let go of the "me" I am today, in order to be completely sold-out for you and Daddy--without whining about the way things "used to be." I'll never really mean it if I try to say that life was "better" before you came. Sometimes my mouth gets loose and does damage before my heart gets it under control again.

And my prayer for you is that you'll understand just how much thought and preparation has gone into your arrival, and how excited I am for you already. With all this thinking, lesson-learning, and hopeful expecting, I know deep down I'm just about ready, and I won't miss the naps and the clean windows too much. Plus, since love is evident in the things we do--and it isn't determined by insignificant things like having not met yet--I can say for sure that I love you already.

Waiting to hold you,
Your Mommy

What Happens When You Just Don't Care

Well, I kind of snapped last night.
Luke has been extremely busy with work and school lately. For some reason, his boss scheduled extra hours at the hospital around the same time his professors scheduled extra homework... AND, he also downloaded a new computer game lately which is "very fun." Several hours worth of fun, it seems.

Have I mentioned quality time is important to me?

And since I haven't had some good Soul Talk with an earthly friend in awhile, and since I started feeling sorry for myself about all the alone-time I've had, and since I was tired of asking God to fix problems in me and was ready for Him to just fix someone else for awhile, I got mad. And when Luke started drifting off to sleep instead of talking through it with me, I got more mad.

Of course, there were other complications. Luke could tell I was upset, and he isn't very good at the "talk through it" part. He tends to get defensive, and he also translates my point of view as me telling him he's wrong.... it makes our conversations drag on and take on a circular form. Luke either gets frustrated enough to get sarcastic, or he sits silently...and eventually starts to doze off. (By the way, my intent isn't to hang out Luke's dirty laundry for all to see. He would admit to all of this.)

Anyway, eventually I tried walking out of the room to show him how mad I was, but that just made the room quiet so he could sleep better. So, I spent a couple minutes praying very loudly to God--telling Him I didn't feel prepared for this bickering because my heart was hurting and I hadn't been built up properly thoughout the week. I told Him I was starving for Christian fellowship, and the fact that I don't often get it from my own husband was more-than-a-little irritating. And I thought it was cruel of Him to expect me to continue my quest for selflessness when that left NOBODY to take care of me. (It's how I felt, okay?)

And I was especially loud about it, partly because I felt like yelling at my Dad in Heaven for how unfair he made this life, and mostly because I hoped my volume would disturb Luke's peace. But, when that didn't work, I finally told God, "I don't care about being selfless right now," and I stomped back into the bedroom to flick on the light in my lover's face.

I got more mean from there.

I said, "I'm so tired of crying by myself in the living room!"
"I'm so tired of praying and reading scripture and calming my own soul, without your help." And then said, "It's probably selfish what I'm doing right now, but I don't care. I want to punish you for this."

These were the honest, angry words of my heart. I felt all of it. I meant all of it. And I was telling Luke the truth as it seemed to me in that moment.

Yet, here's the truth as it appears from a better-rested perspective, from the vantage of the "me" who is off work for the day, looking at the blue sky, fresh-from-devotions, and who has receieved several uplifting compliments about my blog, my teaching abilities, and my character in the last 8 hours. The truth from this positive frame of mind is that I'm married to a wonderfully loving, patient man.

He let's me yell when I need to, even if he has no idea how to help me. He is quick to confess his wrongs--at least much quicker than I am. And he loves me in a way that makes me understand Christ's love better. I've never doubted Luke's devotion, EVER.... He is a safe person with whom to be angry because he never holds grudges or threatens to leave. He never makes me feel small on purpose or tries to tear me down. I've never doubted his love for me, even during the times I doubted whether I could love him properly. And that counts for a whole lot.

I'm happy to report we did not go to bed angry. And, I'm pretty sure I avoided the F-bomb, unlike the last argument we had. (I'll have to ask Luke because sometimes blinding rage messes with your memory.) Anyway, as usual, I burst into tears once I unleashed my anger, and Luke held me and apologized for letting me go so long without his companionship.

But why do I share this story? I'm still sad about the time we lost this week, and I know we have a long way to go before the root issue is "fixed." We found sore spots during our discussion, ranging from priorities to passion. We questioned our communications skills and talked about how unfortunate it is that we don't always WANT to spend every waking moment together--as we did years ago. Ours was a multi-faceted dispute, so in that sense, the problem isn't "over."

But I needed to share the story of the Time I Just Didn't Care, in favor of confession (Hi, my name is Amanda, and I'm recovering from complete Self-Obsession. Last night, I relapsed.) And also, to encourage you there IS peace and forgiveness on the other side, once you start caring again.

Sorry, Luke. Sorry, God. I'm ready to do better.

To Have a Friend...

It turns out, people annoy me.

Part of my issue is I don't have very many Christian friends nearby, which means the majority of my interraction is with people vastly different from myself. I meet individuals who believe the government is responsible for their happiness, that healthy relationships are stumbled upon with luck, that there are many roads to the spiritual being you may call "God," etc. And after awhile, being assaulted with all the WRONG gets annoying. (See my rants on Dr. Phil's advice and the punk teenager for examples of clashing with the opinions of others.)

But--the perfectionist quote I posted yesterday got me thinking--the biggest contributing factor to my irritation is that I hold people to an incredibly high standard.... I expect a lot from myself, but I expect just as much--if not more--from others. And when humans do human things, it upsets me. A lot. And I have to let it all out with a big rant.

I have people praying for me, asking God to send a good sister-in-Christ to replenish my soul and speak the truth to me, so I can keep sharing truth with others. (And, by the way, I'd love if this individual was older than me. Like married-50-years-and-thinks-she's-too-old-to-be-of-use. Because I CRAVE the wisdom of a woman in her golden years. And furthermore, the fact that I don't go to concerts or movies, that I lead a mostly sedentary lifestyle, and that I talk to my cats makes me feel I'm actually a 70-year-old trapped in this body anyway.)

BUT, could it be that I'm not ready for that mentor, yet? If I expect so much out of people, what will stop me from deeming my would-be prayer partner "not good enough," and shoving her away? Would my first or second impression be one of annoyance?

I want more friends. It's important that I find a way to mingle with people who challenge me. I want to have more than conversations about the weather or what's happening Downtown all the time. I want a good theological debate sometimes. I need to be brought down to size sometimes. And an open-book kind of honesty is essential in my relationships.

But, to have a friend, I must be a friend. And when I cross the line into being annoyed with people who don't meet my criteria, I'm basically saying I'm better than them. Which is my problem, not theirs.

Please help me use the same patience and see the same potential that You do, Father.

A Confession and a Mission

Confession: I've never read the Bible straight through....

I've read most of it, and I've studied, scrutinized, wrestled with, and even memorized substantial portions. And I mean it when I insist the more time I spend with the Bible, the more I appreciate the way it changes me. But I've never made it through the book from beginning-to-end.

Mission: Change that problem.

And this time, I have a game plan I think I can stick with.
Thanks to the "reading plans" from Crosswalk.com, all I have to do is read what it puts on the screen for me every day, and I will make it through the Bible in a year. I don't have to carry a copy of scripture with me or remember to pack a devotional book when I take an overnight trip. All I have to do is find a computer and mark the little box that says "I did it" when I'm finished.

The past two days, I've been reading those selections first thing in the morning, along with saying that day's prayer for Luke (from Stormie Omartian's Power of a Praying Wife) and reading one of the 30 Things I Need to Tell My Husband. Plus, when I'm already on Crosswalk.com, I tend to see interesting articles or forum questions that I can't resist peeking into--usually about parenting or teaching.

SOOOO, with all that reading material, I've run into several interesting quotes I'd like to share.
I thought about dedicating a post to each quote seperately, but why do I feel I need to tell you guys what to think all the time? Maybe you'll appreciate the quotes by themselves, the way I did, WITHOUT my commentary.

"The perfectionist often expects more from others than she does from herself."

"Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible."

"There is nothing wrong with a marriage that sacrifice won't heal."

Okay now that I've re-read those and remembered how good they are, I know I won't be able to resist giving my own thoughts about them in the near future.

But not today.

Wish me luck on my Bible-reading endevours!

Bundle of Joy....?

Another unmarried friend announced her pregnancy recently. And she received the typical slew of congratulations, just as they all do. But I make it a point never to congratulate the girl on THIS side of the baby's arrival, because I know what is waiting for her in the near future. Give it a year and her Facebook status will read, "Why are men such immature pigs? That's okay, Little One. We don't need your daddy in our lives. I'm a strong, independent woman....blah blah blah."

And I feel so badly for the child, who does have a selfish and immature father....and a selfish, immature mother to match.

Sorry, but the act of getting pregnant does not make you a grown-up. And simply "staying in the child's life" doesn't qualify you as the mature one, either. Young girls who allow young boys access to their pants are just as guilty when the whole situation crumbles, and I will not join in the celebrations and congratulations when it all begins.

There is some talk among church members about the proper way to handle the unwed mother issue. And most arrive at the conclusion that the Christian thing to do is open our arms and show them the love of Christ instead of passing judgement. The argument is that it's "Not the baby's fault" and "Jesus would love her regardless." These things are true, and I'm too big a fan of love to disagree completely.

BUT, this philosophy has become so distorted that we no longer call "sin" what it is, and I was even tempted to water down this post. I actually worried I might offend someone with the truth, and I NEVER thought I'd shy away from that. Yes, Jesus loved. But He also told it like it is.

I'm heart-broken over this problem especially due to the alarming number of children from single-parent homes who are part of my classroom. The truth is that being without a father messes kids up. It may be reparable. Those kids may come to enjoy a great relationship with their Heavenly Father some day. Or they may appear on a daytime talk show spouting about the way they overcame great obstacles and how wonderful their mother is for holding down three jobs and playing the role of both Mommy and Daddy, etc. etc.

But it still makes me sick because I know this isn't what God had in mind when he designed family. I can't be happy for the baby, when I know that in 5 or 6 years, the kid will go to school not knowing how to communicate with peers and share toys because Mom and Dad call each other names and can't figure out how to "share" the job of raising a child. I refuse to glorify the brand of single-parenthood spreading like a fungus among my aquaintances--the kind not brought on by a tragic death or uninvited sexual violation--but by selfishness.

If you moved in with your boyfriend or girlfriend and had sex (unprotected) because it felt good, then that was selfish. If you played house and decided to bring a child into an unstable environment, without the commitment, then you were selfish. And if you decided to end the relationship with the baby's father/mother because it was easier than being patient and kind and generally loving, then you are selfish.

....now for the silver lining: Redemption is possible. You don't have to go through one nasty breakup after another--having children with multiple partners, working multiple jobs, and wasting multiple years wondering why you're still not happy. God is ready to help you grow up. But it won't always feel good.

Not nearly as good as when all of your friends shower you with gifts and shout "congratulations."

The Service of "Sorry"

There are Theologians who teach it's possible to achieve a state of sinlessness. (Some even say Christians MUST stop sinning completely in order to be truly saved.) They teach that Christ's death on the cross defeated sin, and gave us the power to live totally, literally pure lives.

Luke and I had been dating only 5 or 6 months when we had our first, tear-streaked argument over that very suggestion. Luke's grandfather gave him a book by Charles Capps, in which I believe Capps mentions the exact date of the last time he sinned...? Or he at least he gave the number of years it had been. And I had a MAJOR problem with that.

Unfortunately, as our conversation wore on, I discovered I didn't have a very solid explanation for why I disagreed with Capps (since the opposite conclusion seems to be saying, "We HAVE to sin.") Thus, our discussion turned emotional rather than factual, and to this day, I'm still not happy with my understanding of the matter. Is it possible to overcome sin on this side of Heaven? (Feel free to comment with your own views.)

But I DO believe the Bible places an awful lot of importance on confession and repentence for sin to be a thing of the past.

God spells out steps for reconciliation in Matthew. He tells us to confess our sins to one another in James. And he assures us over and over again that He will forgive our transgressions when we ask Him. These things seem to suggest we are bound to make bad decisions once in awhile. And we should prepare to be honest about it.

So here it is:
*I'm sorry I was short-tempered during rest time at the daycare, when the kids weren't lying still.

*I'm sorry I swore under my breath when I was arguing with a strong-willed boy, my hair was falling out of the pony-tail, and the stuff I had put away in the closet fell in a heap on the floor.

*I'm sorry I was nasty to Luke this morning, when I came home and found him still in bed. I think I even called him "lazy."

*And mostly, I'm sorry because I know that my attitude is such even at this moment that I would do all of those things again. I want to justify all of those things with the fact that I'm fatigued and over-worked and beginning my least-favorite-week-of-the-month. And it will be hard not to mutter negatively or snip at Luke even right after I hit "post." ...I'm sorry.

....This is the part where I'm supposed to say, "Ahhhhh. The freedom which comes from confession is glorious." But, the truth is, I don't feel better yet. I'm still distracted by the thought of the dishes and the vacuuming, the fact that I haven't been sleeping well, and the gnawing pain in my lower abdomen thanks to Mother Nature. Plus, I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, when I have to get back on the battle field and keep from sinning in those SAME situations.

I'm cranky.

But please be proud of me, Lord Jesus, for recognizing my short comings and laying them at your feet. I'm in a bad place, where my actions produce a lot to be sorry for. But remember it no more.

The Service of Silence

I had an impromptu Deletion of Facebook Friends session today. It started when a former friend's recent update popped into my news feed and pushed me to make the decision: scream at him or remove him from my sight.
Rather than describe what this kid is like, I've captured part of his biography information, in his own words:




Okay, so apparently the snap is really small and blurry for some reason. But the important points are: he is 17, "loves money," politically supports "black presidents," and attends the "church of hard knocks."

So, today, when his status update said something about the "F***ing police who put him in handcuffs because they're ignorant and all they do is see a young black kid who has been in some trouble before and start profiling and blah blah blah," I was ready to unleash on him.

I was VERY READY to say, "Get the bandana off your head, pull your pants up, and stop hanging out in shady places late at night." I was VERY READY to say, "Have some respect for the men and women trying to keep the streets safe, and maybe they would have more respect for you." And I was ready, ready, READY to say, "You should complain to the black president about the injustice" or, "I guess that's what it's like in the school of hard knocks." There is nothing more satisfying than sarcasm in these situations.

But, drat the Holy Spirit and His firm decision that I should look the other way if I can't handle the ignorance anymore. I heard a plain and simple "No."

And here is why: the truth is, this kid gets in trouble for underaged drinking, he's been delinquent in school, he has stolen things, gotten into fights repeatedly, and admits all he cares about are money, sports, and women... But I'm not in the position to convict him about these things.

I mean, I have no credibility with him at all. Telling him to grow up and get a life would feel wonderful, and--given the opportunity--I'd inform him that playing the victim will get him nowhere, and he needs to take responsibility and clean up his act before he'll find a comfortable place in life. But I was not given that opportunity.

If we influence people through love, then we are obligated to make an investment in their lives. Love is active and patient and grows stronger through practice, so it requires direct contact. But the only thing I've invested in this kid is plenty of rolled eyes and angry sighs. I've never SAID two words to him. And, if there IS someone in his life working hard to bring him back to God, there is a real possibility I could damage that progress by butting in and chewing him out.

My hope is that God already placed someone in the boy's sphere to help him change his perspectives and move from selfish into service. But this married, 22-year-old, white-woman is not cut out for the job. So I shall remain silent.

I and my delete button have been silent.

But It Comes With a Toy...

6:30 AM
Boy: Will Olivia be here today?
Me: Probably.
Boy: Will Jake be here today?
Me: Probably.
Boy: Will Landyn be here today?
Me: Well, what do you think?
Boy: Yeah, he always bes here.

7:45 AM
Girl: Honey! Come here, Honey! Honey!
Boy: I'm NOT YOUR HUSBAND! ...I'm Peter Pan.
(A few minutes later, the boy was yelling, "Tinkerbell!!!" and the girl replied, "Excuse me, I have to die now.")

8:00 AM
Boy: Welcome to Burger King and we're out of fries.
Speech Therapist: Well, what should I get then?
Boy: You can have onion rings.
Speech Therapist: Okay, how much do I owe you?
Boy: $100
Speech Therapist: Um, I think that's too expensive for me...
Boy: But, it comes with a toy!

****
I've been at the daycare a lot this week, substituting for a vacationing coworker. But in the meantime, my servant-attitude has been on the fritz.
For some reason, I've been unmotivated, impatient, and looking at the clock more often than usual...

I make excuses like I'm not getting enough sleep and the kids have been especially difficult the last few days. And there is some truth in both statements.

True, a boy with Downs who has been potty-trained for over two years is wetting his pants twice a day for no reason. And, true, my little Creative Genius keeps losing the battle with impulse control and BITING anyone who upsets him. And, yes, there is a young one who gets "stuck" on certain phrases until you think his repetitions will bore a hole in your head.

....But this is my job, and God has made it clear He has things to teach me through the challenges in that classroom. Plus, despite the pandemonium, I have found myself giggling several times about something the kids have said. Why shouldn't I focus on those positives?

Although special education can feel like a meal that costs $100--at least it comes with a toy.

Now Featuring Photos! (The Work of my Student Genius)

Privacy laws restrict me from posting photos of my students' faces. Sooooo, I'll settle for telling the story of the Boy with the Vision through pictures of his projects.

First of all, let me note that most children pre-kindergarten are just learning to trace basic shapes, count to twenty, recognize their own names on paper, and experiment with scribbling letter-like forms. Some of them are able to copy what a teacher writes on the board, but recognizable letters and the classic "kid spelling" of things usually comes later, after kindergarten teaches them basic phonics.


That is, unless you have a special 5-year-old with an unbelievable spatial-visual memory. If that were the case, maybe he would have the ability to draw accurate maps of places he has been in town, build block towers which resemble actual buildings, and re-create logos and advertisements from grocery stores, fast food restaurants, and others using the correct font and 3d effects.


What makes it more amazing is the fact that this child has social difficulties and an emotional-behavioral disorder that complicate teaching him things. He doesn't like to have assistance with anything, and any idea which isn't his is a bad idea. But, no one had to teach him how to do any of the following things; it all came from his memory.



For instance:

Now, anyone who lives/has lived in Fort Wayne may recognize this structure without a comparison picture. But for everyone else:

In case you missed it, check out the signage my little guy built in front of the main building. That's right. He went as far as duplicating Science Central's LOGO and taping it to the blocks for maximum accuracy.

Now, here's a formation which has become a permanent shrine in the block corner. Ever since the boy joined our class (just before he turned five), he has been obsessed with "Holiday Fest."
It looks like this:



He told us things like, "You drive THROUGH Holiday Fest." and "It lights up at Christmas." But it wasn't until we noticed the center building looks just like One Summit Square that we figured out Holiday Fest = Downtown Fort Wayne.


Here's the back of the block version:

From back left to front right, National City/PNC Bank, Courthouse, One Summit Square, and Lincoln Tower Bank. (You may have noticed the real Downtown has these buildings in a different order. But when you drive South through the buildings on US24, they appear just as the boy built them.)

Finally, here's a sample of his Logo-writing:

Earlier the same day, as the kids were turning a cardboard box into a "Drive-thru," he reached out the window we had cut in the side and wrote "Burger King" so that it appeared correct to the "cars" that would come. This means he wrote it upsidedown from his vantage point.

I would have taken a picture of the McDonald's or Taco Bell signs he drew (complete with 3d Bell), but he wouldn't cooperate. (sigh) Even with his superpowers, he is still a kid.

****
Anyway, all of this to say, my job isn't always difficult. Sometimes I get to pick little brains and let them WOW me with just how incredible they are. With that, I'll sign off by posting a final example of student art I like to call, "Who Needs a Canvas When Miss Amanda Has a Back?"

Parenthood: Less Fun Than it Looks

This article sums up everything I could have written on the subject of parenting, at least until I acquire a child of my own. But after coming face to face with the statistics about general happiness in parenthood, it's a wonder more people in my position choose to have kids at all!

Research shows: "Parents are less happy than non-parents, parents of infants and toddlers are especially not happy, single parents are less happy than married parents, and mothers are less happy than fathers. Except, that is, when it comes to single fathers, who are the most unhappy of all."

I've long been suspicious that raising children is the same trial-filled, refining-fire type of arrangement marriage is. We fall in love with the idea of cute baby feet and baby coos the way we fantasize about being "Mrs. So-and-so" or decorating our own home. And then we realize it's HARD.

But, as I've said many times in this blog already, "hard" isn't "bad." Difficulties inspire growth and make us more like Christ. So, I conclude with the author of this article: happiness isn't the goal anyway. And, since that's the case, bring on the babies. (Er...someday.)

Read it here. It's good:
http://www.crosswalk.com/11634447/

The Things We Do....

I've heard this phrase a lot lately. Somebody tells a story about cleaning up a nasty mess, and the listener remarks, "The things we do for our kids!" Or a husband relays a tale about struggling to plan the perfect date, and we exclaim, "The things we'll do for love!"

Now I agree those acts of service can be beautiful, sacrificial things. BUT, are they really the best examples of "the things we do for love?" And if so, are we content with that?

I'm asking because I babysat for friends last night--for about 6 hours--and I didn't charge them for my time. Then, I helped another friend load her moving truck this morning. And, sometimes I'm tempted to shake my head and think, "The things I get myself into for my friends!"

But, you know, those thoughts are awfully self-righteous. Where do I get the audacity to feel smug about my tiny gifts of service when Christ demonstrated an agonizing, completely-sacrificial love for me on the cross? The everyday examples of "things I do" are shallow and even comfortable in comparison to real service.

On the other hand, what about the wife who remains by the side of her brain-injured husband even after a tragic accident? How about the family that forgives the drunk driver that took away their loved one? We tend to elevate those people as saints or angels, with incredible capacities for selflessness. We consider their examples extraordinary, rather than playfully saying to them, "The things we do for love!" The truth is, we don't don't those things...

What a shame. Because those people are the most Christ-like of all.

If the diapers I change, the dishes I wash, and the food I cook are the only ways I give to others in an average week--and if a couple hours of moving boxes or babysitting tempts me to grow an ego--then I'm embarassed by the sheer smallness of the things I do....

Math, Daycare Style

Okay, what's 15 kids times 400 decibles, plus 3 teachers and 2 volunteers, combined with an assortment of disabilities, tendencies, and tricks, divided by a 7-hour-shift? Answer: A loud, exhausting day. Points if you got that right.

Now, what happens when you take the same equation and SUBTRACT 8 of the children... Extra credit if you answered: the decible level goes UP, and you must factor some blood and lots of urine.

If you've ever heard a teacher complain about the first day of school after a long weekend, this is why: it's hard to teach children about patterns, logical thinking, and arithmetic when our grumpy, sun-burnt, class of seven dishes out more noise and tearful drama than a full group...

Yes, wet pants, skinned knees, and the sudden inability to talk without yelling or play without hitting. It was a long day. But I'm hopeful for a good Thursday/Friday, after we extract the last bit of Independence Day from their systems... And I take comfort in knowing our next holiday is more than a month away.

(Now, what's 10 weeks of summer break, minus the three weeks since it started...? Please tell me Daycare Math doesn't affect the timeframe for Back to School...)

Love is Blind

Today, I was listening to the radio on my way home from work when I heard a review of the new Twilight movie Eclipse, given by "the nation's only blind movie critic," Jay Forry. Really! He can't see, and he has been critiquing movies for a long time...

First of all, what a concept, huh?! But, in an era where directors think they can add explosions and sexy women to every BAD movie and create a smash hit, Mr. Forry comes along and lets audiences know whether a movie really is worth "seeing." Any guesses what he thought about Eclipse?

No good.

Indeed, he says the dialog is juvenile, the plot goes no where, and the "action" everyone is talking about comes in a heap at the end. And, though I must admit I haven't seen the film myself--nor do I plan to after the catastrophic first two--I'm absolutely positive I would agree heartily.

The only thing with which I disagreed was Forry's statement, "This movie is fine for the target audience--meaning teenage girls," because--for some reason--teenage girls are not the only ones squealing over this movie. A disturbing number of 20, 30, and 40-somethings are raving about the thrills, the action, and....the "romance." And, this last point literally makes me sick.

I've long said truth is the most important thing in the world to me. (Jesus even said, "I am the Truth," so I think myself clever for finding a way to describe everything I care most about in a single word.) But, if I had to be more specific, I would say the truth about love is the most important thing to me. And there is nothing close to love in the Twilight movies.

These days, people--and especially women--are mistaking obsessive desire and animal-like sexuality for love and romance. And I'd like to know why said women, who would fight for equality in the work place, the right for an education, and plenty of other feminine causes without hesitation, turn around and support a movie in which a selfish, untalented, and codependent lead female allows pretty-faced and empty-headed "men" to compete for her....? Can anyone explain this to me?

Just like today's "romance novels" (which are porn-in-writing) have nothing to do with true, kind, patient, and sacrificial love, our modern romantic movies (sex on screen) are destroying the nation's understanding of what a good relationship looks like. And some of them, like Twilight, are being marketed to young girls.

Ladies in your 20's and 30's, and especially you mothers-of-teens in your 40's, you should be helping your hormonal daughters see the frivolity, even the dangers, of absorbing something with as little substance as Eclipse; not drooling over Edward and Jacob alongside them....

To quote Mr. Forry one more time, "[The second movie, New Moon] is so melodramatic it's funny, and some of the story lines are just ridiculous... [it's] all about Taylor Lautner running around without a shirt in the cold weather."

And I LOVE the fact that a blind man can see that.

(By the way, Jay Forry's website is found at blindsidereviews.com)

Freedom: a Fourth of July Post on the First

Americans talk a lot about freedom. It's one of those ideals that everybody--Christian and non-Christian, old and young, black and white--seems to recognize as a good thing. It's the trump card when debating moral issues, politics, and, really, anything--because everybody knows freedom is important. People literally are dying to be free.

But, as we get ready to celebrate our country's freedom by lighting a million bottle rockets and eating potatoes and pie until we similarly explode, it occurs to me how sadly unfree many of my fellow countrymen are.

Sure, we can use our own discretion in making the majority of our decisions. But, as a nation, we can't shake the bonds of credit card debt. We are slaves to food more than ever before. We bend and break under the pressures of work, childrearing, getting enough exercise, and keeping in touch with friends until we finally convince ourselves we need a vacation (or a medication) before we can stand one more minute of our own lives. Is this what we brag about when talking of our country's "privileges?" We're proud that--in our superior country--we are free to bury ourselves in excess and then take all the Prozak we want?

That's not true freedom.

But if living in a democratic-republic doesn't make one free automatically, then how do we liberate ourselves?

I just finished the book Saint by Ted Dekker. (It's really good, though you should read Sinner first.) And one of the over-arching themes of the story is the concept of truth. What is truth? How much can brainwashing affect ones belief in things which are NOT true? For instance, could someone be drugged and tortured until they forgot their own families? Faith in God? Their own names?

Then, in the final chapters of the book, the story's wise guru-type man repeatedly looks at the broken and confused protagonist--who has been lied to and manipulated for years--and he assures him: The truth will set you free.

Of course, the main character doesn't know what that means at first, but it made my heart swell. It's perfectly logical. Amazingly accurate. The most real and unshakable kind of freedom comes from knowing the truth.

Just as the lead character finds himself physically and emotionally exausted by all the deceit, many Americans are desperate for the truth. We are TIRED at the end of each day, and we think it's because the paperwork never ends, and our house is always dirty, and our kids don't behave...
But is that the truth? I don't think so, because God says truth will set me free. Whatever is wearing me down--holding me in chains--and making me want to run away must stem from something else. When I'm frustrated and overwhelmed and crawling on my hands and knees--it's because I'm being lied to.

If that's the case, then let's make the decision to take an honest look at what controls our existence, and then we can let the truth tell us how to fix it. One truth may be, "I'm irritated with my kids, which is okay. But how I handle my anger is the real source of my exaustion." (By the way, have you noticed that sin is tiring? That's why God offers us "rest" from our "burdens")
Maybe you need to hear the truth, "Service-minded people are happier than self-minded ones." OR "Laughter is the best medicine....not Prozak."

I don't care what you grab hold of, as long as you subscribe to a piece of truth today. It will set you free.

(P.S. Happy almost-fourth-of-July! Be thankful you live in a country which allows you to seek the truth, if you are brave enough.)