Lately, I have noticed that I spend an inordinate amount of time filling my mind with trash. Do you ever do that? Turn on the TV when there is really nothing that you want to watch? Surf Facebook aimlessly just to catch up on the latest gossip? Consume your day with thoughts of what's going on in the lives of everyone else instead of examining your own heart? Good, I'm glad I'm not the only one.
I recently became hooked on this show called Homeland. The show centers around Sergeant Nicholas Brody, who returns home from Iraq after eight years of being M.I.A., and Carrie Anderson, a C.I.A. agent who suspects he may be planning an attack on America. I hang on the edge of my seat every episode; the suspense is a killer! However, the show also is so disturbing and and perverted that I honestly can't justify watching it anymore.
I'm not trying to condemn people who watch Homeland, or any other TV show, for that matter. I'm also not trying to say that we should all shut ourselves in a closet and be ignorant about things which happen in the real world. I just can't help but think that I need to be more conscious of what is filling my mind because, like it or not, what we see and hear influences who we are. I pray that I can become a better steward of my time by thinking on eternal matters more often than petty, earthly ones.
Be very careful, then, how you live-not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. -Ephesians 5:15-16
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
A Story from Matt Chandler
I heard this at a retreat recently and thought it was worth sharing. The original story is from Matt Chandler, pastor of The Village Church in Flower Mound, Texas. I have paraphrased his words because I did not hear the original story.
When I was in college, my roommates and I would go to the same diner a couple of times each week. As you can imagine, we often saw the same people whenever we would go. In fact, we had the same waitress almost every time. As time went by, this young woman eventually started to open up to us about her life. Her story revealed that she was really just struggling to make ends meet. She was emotionally and sexually bruised due to her lifestyle, and it became immediately clear that she didn't know Christ. She was open to us sharing the gospel, and the Lord was gracious to save her and change her life many conversations later.
While we were all still in college, we decided to go to a Christian rally that was happening on campus. I invited our newly saved friend, who came and sat next to me.
The rally was about purity. As the speaker began to talk, he handed a rose to someone in the first row and instructed the crowd to pass the rose until everyone in the audience had received it. Minutes later, the rose arrived back in the speaker's hands with a broken stem and missing leaves and petals.
The speaker held up the rose for the audience to see. In trying to make a point about sexual purity, the man questioned, "Look at this rose. Now who do you think would want something like this?"
As I considered the young woman sitting next to me- her past, her brokenness, and the change Christ had made- anger welled up within me and it took everything in me to keep from shouting back at the man, "Jesus would!"
(Now these are the less wise and eloquent words of Mary Rachel Fenrick.) This story struck a chord with me because I once was the young woman. Maybe I didn't have the exact same struggles, but I was battered and broken, too. No one would have wanted me. No one, that is, except Christ. I'm thankful that God doesn't want perfect people. He doesn't choose people who are exceptionally wise, beautiful, or strong. He, in fact, chooses sinful, bruised people and sets them free.
Jesus would.
When I was in college, my roommates and I would go to the same diner a couple of times each week. As you can imagine, we often saw the same people whenever we would go. In fact, we had the same waitress almost every time. As time went by, this young woman eventually started to open up to us about her life. Her story revealed that she was really just struggling to make ends meet. She was emotionally and sexually bruised due to her lifestyle, and it became immediately clear that she didn't know Christ. She was open to us sharing the gospel, and the Lord was gracious to save her and change her life many conversations later.
While we were all still in college, we decided to go to a Christian rally that was happening on campus. I invited our newly saved friend, who came and sat next to me.
The rally was about purity. As the speaker began to talk, he handed a rose to someone in the first row and instructed the crowd to pass the rose until everyone in the audience had received it. Minutes later, the rose arrived back in the speaker's hands with a broken stem and missing leaves and petals.
The speaker held up the rose for the audience to see. In trying to make a point about sexual purity, the man questioned, "Look at this rose. Now who do you think would want something like this?"
As I considered the young woman sitting next to me- her past, her brokenness, and the change Christ had made- anger welled up within me and it took everything in me to keep from shouting back at the man, "Jesus would!"
(Now these are the less wise and eloquent words of Mary Rachel Fenrick.) This story struck a chord with me because I once was the young woman. Maybe I didn't have the exact same struggles, but I was battered and broken, too. No one would have wanted me. No one, that is, except Christ. I'm thankful that God doesn't want perfect people. He doesn't choose people who are exceptionally wise, beautiful, or strong. He, in fact, chooses sinful, bruised people and sets them free.
Jesus would.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9.11.01
Where were you on that awful day?
I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001, thinking that it was going to be a pretty typical day. As I've been watching the presentations of smouldering buildings and emergency rescue teams on TV from ten years ago, I am reminded of how that day was anything but typical.
I think it was a Tuesday. I was on my way to Mr. Simpson's eighth grade science class. We were supposed to make ice cream that day. For whatever reason, I was running late to class. As I rushed in at the last minute, I noticed that there was an eerie silence in the classroom (rare for a class of 20+ eighth graders). Our classroom TV was on, another oddity as most of our class time consisted of labs and lectures. When I started trying to figure out what was happening, I thought the whole thing was a joke. It looked like something that would be seen in a movie. Although the gravity and significance of the day could not have possibly hit me to the fullest extent at the age of thirteen, I slowly began to realize that this was really happening, and people were likely to remember it for years to come. Needless to say, the ice cream making was postponed, as were most activities during the rest of our school day.
I can't really imagine what that day must have been like for so many people. I was able to pick up and move on with my life shortly after the big incident, but I know there were many people who were not able to do so. My heart still goes out to those people, who are surely missing their loved ones today.
I also think about the men who were sick enough to commit such a terrible act. I feel sad for them and their families. My initial reaction toward them in eighth grade was anger, but now I just feel sadness in thinking about how lost they must be to have their hope for redemption in driving a plane through a building. What a waste of a life!
"It is Tuesday morning, the eleventh of September, and you will not forget this date," said the news reporter. Ten years later, we certainly haven't forgotten.
I woke up on the morning of September 11, 2001, thinking that it was going to be a pretty typical day. As I've been watching the presentations of smouldering buildings and emergency rescue teams on TV from ten years ago, I am reminded of how that day was anything but typical.
I think it was a Tuesday. I was on my way to Mr. Simpson's eighth grade science class. We were supposed to make ice cream that day. For whatever reason, I was running late to class. As I rushed in at the last minute, I noticed that there was an eerie silence in the classroom (rare for a class of 20+ eighth graders). Our classroom TV was on, another oddity as most of our class time consisted of labs and lectures. When I started trying to figure out what was happening, I thought the whole thing was a joke. It looked like something that would be seen in a movie. Although the gravity and significance of the day could not have possibly hit me to the fullest extent at the age of thirteen, I slowly began to realize that this was really happening, and people were likely to remember it for years to come. Needless to say, the ice cream making was postponed, as were most activities during the rest of our school day.
I can't really imagine what that day must have been like for so many people. I was able to pick up and move on with my life shortly after the big incident, but I know there were many people who were not able to do so. My heart still goes out to those people, who are surely missing their loved ones today.
I also think about the men who were sick enough to commit such a terrible act. I feel sad for them and their families. My initial reaction toward them in eighth grade was anger, but now I just feel sadness in thinking about how lost they must be to have their hope for redemption in driving a plane through a building. What a waste of a life!
"It is Tuesday morning, the eleventh of September, and you will not forget this date," said the news reporter. Ten years later, we certainly haven't forgotten.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A Lesson from Geese
From Scouting the Divine
In reference to the geese in the barn...
I remembered that they were constantly walking around.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lynne.
"They're looking for their eggs," she said.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I threw them in the creek," she said.
My eyes bugged in disbelief. "Why?" Lynne's actions seemed cold and cruel- a far cry from the woman who loved her sheep.
"Because they were infertile," she said. "They will never hatch. I need to get these geese back to their regular life. For three months they've been sitting on infertile eggs. The only way to get them back to the way they're supposed to be living is to take away their dead eggs."
Her answer helped me understand her action as one of compassion and wisdom. I couldn't help but wonder how often I have sat on dreams that were never going to come to fruition or, worse, sat on the empty promises of the enemy that would never yield life- only self-destruction and death.
As I thought back to the numerous times where God has been faithful to remind me, "It's time to get back to the life I've given you," I recognized that this painful lesson isn't something I learn only once and move on... I will need to process, apply, refine, and reapply again and again the truth of what it means to live under the guidance of the Good Shepherd.
In reference to the geese in the barn...
I remembered that they were constantly walking around.
"What are they looking for?" I asked Lynne.
"They're looking for their eggs," she said.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I threw them in the creek," she said.
My eyes bugged in disbelief. "Why?" Lynne's actions seemed cold and cruel- a far cry from the woman who loved her sheep.
"Because they were infertile," she said. "They will never hatch. I need to get these geese back to their regular life. For three months they've been sitting on infertile eggs. The only way to get them back to the way they're supposed to be living is to take away their dead eggs."
Her answer helped me understand her action as one of compassion and wisdom. I couldn't help but wonder how often I have sat on dreams that were never going to come to fruition or, worse, sat on the empty promises of the enemy that would never yield life- only self-destruction and death.
As I thought back to the numerous times where God has been faithful to remind me, "It's time to get back to the life I've given you," I recognized that this painful lesson isn't something I learn only once and move on... I will need to process, apply, refine, and reapply again and again the truth of what it means to live under the guidance of the Good Shepherd.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Two Days
2 days.
That's it. That's all that is left of this first year of teaching for me. Wow. There were definitely times when I did not think this week would ever come.
When I try to think of words to describe this year, I simply cannot choose just one. Crazy. Hard. Funny. Joyful. Exhausting. Humbling. Stressful. Happy. Busy. Unpredictable. Worth it.
I have learned things this year that I could not have learned any other way. That said, I will absolutely do some things differently next year. At the beginning of the school year, our principal talked to us about making sure we had time to "fill up our cups," meaning that we should take time outside of work to do things we actually enjoy. When I heard her say that, I thought, "Well of course I will do that!" But I didn't. Not for most of the year anyway. So, I felt chronically tired, sick (literally- flu, kidney stone, passing out), and burned out.
I care about my students. A lot. I want them to do well and I want to "consume myself to light the way for others." All that said, family matters. Friends matter. Church matters. My health and well-being matter. Next year, I will make more time for those things earlier in the year.
Other than that, really no regrets. I have made a lot of mistakes (understatement of the year). But, sometimes those mistakes provide the best opportunities for learning and growth.
2 days. Then summer is here. What will I do with myself, you ask? I'll miss my students, sure. I'll probably even visit them at summer school. I have joked about "sitting on the couch and watching TV all summer," but that probably will not happen. Honestly, I'll probably find a way to make myself busy like I always do. But in the midst of the Peru trip, working at a camp, organizing my classroom for next year, teaching swim lessons, and going to teacher trainings, I think I will get a pedicure. I think I'll sit out by the pool, get a massage, work out, and finish reading all of the Harry Potter books that I once started. I never understood before why teachers get an entire summer off while the rest of the world continues working. And then I became a teacher. I get it.
That's it. That's all that is left of this first year of teaching for me. Wow. There were definitely times when I did not think this week would ever come.
When I try to think of words to describe this year, I simply cannot choose just one. Crazy. Hard. Funny. Joyful. Exhausting. Humbling. Stressful. Happy. Busy. Unpredictable. Worth it.
I have learned things this year that I could not have learned any other way. That said, I will absolutely do some things differently next year. At the beginning of the school year, our principal talked to us about making sure we had time to "fill up our cups," meaning that we should take time outside of work to do things we actually enjoy. When I heard her say that, I thought, "Well of course I will do that!" But I didn't. Not for most of the year anyway. So, I felt chronically tired, sick (literally- flu, kidney stone, passing out), and burned out.
I care about my students. A lot. I want them to do well and I want to "consume myself to light the way for others." All that said, family matters. Friends matter. Church matters. My health and well-being matter. Next year, I will make more time for those things earlier in the year.
Other than that, really no regrets. I have made a lot of mistakes (understatement of the year). But, sometimes those mistakes provide the best opportunities for learning and growth.
2 days. Then summer is here. What will I do with myself, you ask? I'll miss my students, sure. I'll probably even visit them at summer school. I have joked about "sitting on the couch and watching TV all summer," but that probably will not happen. Honestly, I'll probably find a way to make myself busy like I always do. But in the midst of the Peru trip, working at a camp, organizing my classroom for next year, teaching swim lessons, and going to teacher trainings, I think I will get a pedicure. I think I'll sit out by the pool, get a massage, work out, and finish reading all of the Harry Potter books that I once started. I never understood before why teachers get an entire summer off while the rest of the world continues working. And then I became a teacher. I get it.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Tim
This is my brother, Tim.
He is hilarious, athletic, and probably hungry right now. He loves George Washington, almond butter, coaching football, cheese enchiladas, his black Honda Civic, and the West Wing.
More importantly, Tim is caring, studious, selfless, and thoughtful. He loves Christ, people, and flying airplanes. If you haven't met my brother, I am sad for you.
Tim and I hated each other's guts when we were growing up. As the older sister, I would get mad at Tim for being annoying and then sit or stand on top of him until he turned bright red. Tim, in return, would shoot cap guns in my eyes or push me into pieces of furniture and then laugh hysterically. Unfortunately for Tim, most of the friends and cousins we grew up with were girls, so we would purposefully leave him out of activities. He would get so mad and then go cry to my mom, who often made us include him.
Then we grew up. High school did amazing things for our relationship, and college was even better. Now, Tim is not just my brother but one of my best friends. Tim was skeptical of Andrew when we first started dating. Even though Tim is younger than me, he treated me like the protective older brother watching out for his sis. Eventually, Andrew proved that he was worth keeping around, and now the two of them are great friends, too.
There are many reasons why I admire my brother. He will probably never tell you this because he thinks it is nerdy, but Tim is a National Merit Scholar. That means he is really smart. Not too many people in the U.S. are National Merit Scholars, but Tim is, and he got a full ride to OU because of it. He managed to graduate a year early because of all of the credits he had from high school.
Also, Tim lived in the dorms during his entire three years in college. Most people are anxious to get out of the dorms after their first year, but Tim stayed with the purpose of reaching out to freshmen. This is just one of the many examples of Tim being willing to drop everything in order to be a good friend.
Tim cares about kids. He coaches middle school football basically for free every year, just because he loves it and wants to invest in the kids.
Finally, Tim's love for God is so obvious in everything he does. Tim loves the gospel, and it has changed the way he loves people and looks at the world. He rarely thinks about himself, which is humbling and convicting to me.
Tim graduates next week. He'll go on to be a commercial pilot and make the world a small and more connected place for many, many people. A lot of uncertainty lies in Tim's future as he does not know where he will be based (hopefully Houston!) after he completes his basic airline training in Memphis. But one thing is certain: Tim will continue to trust Christ with whatever lies ahead, and he will continue to love and care about those around him as he puts himself last.
So Tim, here's to you- my brother and my friend. You did it, and I've never been more proud.
He is hilarious, athletic, and probably hungry right now. He loves George Washington, almond butter, coaching football, cheese enchiladas, his black Honda Civic, and the West Wing.
More importantly, Tim is caring, studious, selfless, and thoughtful. He loves Christ, people, and flying airplanes. If you haven't met my brother, I am sad for you.
Tim and I hated each other's guts when we were growing up. As the older sister, I would get mad at Tim for being annoying and then sit or stand on top of him until he turned bright red. Tim, in return, would shoot cap guns in my eyes or push me into pieces of furniture and then laugh hysterically. Unfortunately for Tim, most of the friends and cousins we grew up with were girls, so we would purposefully leave him out of activities. He would get so mad and then go cry to my mom, who often made us include him.
Then we grew up. High school did amazing things for our relationship, and college was even better. Now, Tim is not just my brother but one of my best friends. Tim was skeptical of Andrew when we first started dating. Even though Tim is younger than me, he treated me like the protective older brother watching out for his sis. Eventually, Andrew proved that he was worth keeping around, and now the two of them are great friends, too.
There are many reasons why I admire my brother. He will probably never tell you this because he thinks it is nerdy, but Tim is a National Merit Scholar. That means he is really smart. Not too many people in the U.S. are National Merit Scholars, but Tim is, and he got a full ride to OU because of it. He managed to graduate a year early because of all of the credits he had from high school.
Also, Tim lived in the dorms during his entire three years in college. Most people are anxious to get out of the dorms after their first year, but Tim stayed with the purpose of reaching out to freshmen. This is just one of the many examples of Tim being willing to drop everything in order to be a good friend.
Tim cares about kids. He coaches middle school football basically for free every year, just because he loves it and wants to invest in the kids.
Finally, Tim's love for God is so obvious in everything he does. Tim loves the gospel, and it has changed the way he loves people and looks at the world. He rarely thinks about himself, which is humbling and convicting to me.
Tim graduates next week. He'll go on to be a commercial pilot and make the world a small and more connected place for many, many people. A lot of uncertainty lies in Tim's future as he does not know where he will be based (hopefully Houston!) after he completes his basic airline training in Memphis. But one thing is certain: Tim will continue to trust Christ with whatever lies ahead, and he will continue to love and care about those around him as he puts himself last.
So Tim, here's to you- my brother and my friend. You did it, and I've never been more proud.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Patience is a Virtue
On days like today, I am ready to just throw in the towel with special ed. (*Please don't stop reading here.*) The two things I heard the most from people before entering this profession were, "What a rewarding career!" and "Oh, you must be a very patient person." I know the latter statement is not true, and days like today also make me think the former is not, either. Because when you spend a good chunk of your day just trying to keep kids from running out of your classroom and from shouting profanities down the hallway (those were coming from a six-year-old, mind you), you can't help but think that what you do isn't important, and that these are not the kind of rewards you anticipated when you signed your contract.
I do not think that this year of teaching autism has been a mistake. Oh, it's been hard. In fact, I've been downright miserable for much of it. But I don't think God makes mistakes when He brings you to certain places in life. If I have learned anything from this year, about teaching or life in general, it is this: None of it is about me.
Knowing that changes everything. Although I find myself often frustrated at work, I can remember that life is not supposed to be easy. God is always in the business of making us more like Himself, and His means of doing that is often through challenging times. I went into teaching with the thought that I could change children's lives and by so doing, I would feel happy and satisfied. I should have never tried to make this job about how I would feel. The point is that this is the work God has laid out for me for now, and it's all for Him.
I also have to remind myself that although I am not always teaching concepts as I had hoped and am instead doing a lot of "zookeeping" (because my classroom often feels this wild), my work is important. Some kids never receive "tough love" at home and really do need someone to teach them that there are consequences for yelling profanities down the hallway. They need someone to teach them that they cannot always get what they want. They need someone to love them like Jesus loves me- He disciplines because He cares and has my best interest in mind. I rarely do a good job of reflecting this love, but it is nonetheless the huge task that God has set before me daily, and for that reason alone, teaching special ed this year has not been a waste.
I often think that I have learned patience well enough. I find myself in situations in which I am forced to wait on something, I wait (not very patiently), and by the end of that situation, I am convinced that I am a more patient person and no longer in need of lessons on patience. Ha. Boy, do I have so much more to learn!
My patience ran out today. I hate those days. I hate to end the school day just crying at my desk because I feel like I cannot do it anymore. The good thing about days like today, though, is that they bring me to the end of myself and I once again realize that none of this is about me. Thankfully, God says, "I am not finished with you yet."
I do not think that this year of teaching autism has been a mistake. Oh, it's been hard. In fact, I've been downright miserable for much of it. But I don't think God makes mistakes when He brings you to certain places in life. If I have learned anything from this year, about teaching or life in general, it is this: None of it is about me.
Knowing that changes everything. Although I find myself often frustrated at work, I can remember that life is not supposed to be easy. God is always in the business of making us more like Himself, and His means of doing that is often through challenging times. I went into teaching with the thought that I could change children's lives and by so doing, I would feel happy and satisfied. I should have never tried to make this job about how I would feel. The point is that this is the work God has laid out for me for now, and it's all for Him.
I also have to remind myself that although I am not always teaching concepts as I had hoped and am instead doing a lot of "zookeeping" (because my classroom often feels this wild), my work is important. Some kids never receive "tough love" at home and really do need someone to teach them that there are consequences for yelling profanities down the hallway. They need someone to teach them that they cannot always get what they want. They need someone to love them like Jesus loves me- He disciplines because He cares and has my best interest in mind. I rarely do a good job of reflecting this love, but it is nonetheless the huge task that God has set before me daily, and for that reason alone, teaching special ed this year has not been a waste.
I often think that I have learned patience well enough. I find myself in situations in which I am forced to wait on something, I wait (not very patiently), and by the end of that situation, I am convinced that I am a more patient person and no longer in need of lessons on patience. Ha. Boy, do I have so much more to learn!
My patience ran out today. I hate those days. I hate to end the school day just crying at my desk because I feel like I cannot do it anymore. The good thing about days like today, though, is that they bring me to the end of myself and I once again realize that none of this is about me. Thankfully, God says, "I am not finished with you yet."
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year
New Year's is one of my favorite holidays. Unlike birthdays, during which everyone jokingly asks you if you feel any different or older and you never do, New Year's legitimately does feel different (at least to me). The start of a new year promises new hope and new beginnings- a chance to leave behind the bad habits and misfortunes of the previous year and to start over. The tunnel that you were in on December 31st somehow seems a little less dark on January 1. Perhaps we are all a little blissfully ignorant when beginning a new year, but I prefer that manner of living. In the words of a Puritan prayer, "I bless thee that Thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead " ("Year's End", Valley of Vision).
A few Fenrick big events from 2010 (in no particular order):
-Bought our first house in Norman, OK (June)
-Celebrated our first year of marriage (July 11)
-Ran my first- and possibly only!- full marathon (February)
-Andrew started seminary classes at Southwestern Baptist (August)
-I started my first "real" job as an autism teacher (August)
-Andrew started a new job at Quibids (September)
-Dear friends got engaged, married, and had babies
-Andrew had a major seizure and trip to the hospital (April)
-Went together on a mission trip to Trujillo, Peru (March)
Andrew made one ambitious New Year's resolution this year: Run a full marathon. Since he is the one who originally inspired my love for running and hung with me through all the brutal training of the first half marathon that we ran together, I'd say he is perfectly capable.
I decided to make only 3 resolutions for this year as opposed to my usual lengthy list:
1. Drink more water. As one who is prone to kidney stones, I think this is necessary. I do not enjoy feeling sick to my stomach and having constant back pain simply because I do not make more of an effort to slow down and take a drink.
2. Eat real food away from my desk every day at lunch. Oh, and school cafeteria food is not real food. (As a side note, some of the "healthy choices" we serve to our children at lunch in the public schools are more than mildly concerning.) I plan to pack my own sack lunch every day with delicious, healthy food and then leave my classroom to take a walk or to eat in a quiet, refreshing place. I also am not going to feel guilty for taking 30 minute lunches- at least I hope not.
3. Work to live, don't live to work. I want to do my job well. I want to be a great teacher and make a real difference in my students' lives. However, my health, relationships, and sanity ultimately need to have a higher priority. I lost myself in work this past semester, and I think that God had to teach me the hard way through health issues and hurt relationships that He does not intend for my life to work that way. I will continue to work diligently and to have my students' best interest in mind, but not to the detriment of my personal life. Work is ultimately a means to an end, not an end itself.
As I was throwing away my 2010 calendar just before the Christmas holidays and replacing it with 2011's calendar, I realized that, for the first time in my life, I was not in the least bit sad. Normally, the start of a new year leaves me at least slightly wistful in remembering the joys of the previous one. This year, I was not melancholy at all. That is not to say that God hasn't been immensely gracious to us in the past year, because He has. I should also clarify that we have been the recipients of so many undeserved blessings and joys this past year. I guess the best way to describe my thoughts this time around is that there is real hurt and sorrow in this broken world of ours; we experience much more of that during some years than during others and yet we are never left completely hopeless. This year was hard. And yet, God is still good.
A few Fenrick big events from 2010 (in no particular order):
-Bought our first house in Norman, OK (June)
-Celebrated our first year of marriage (July 11)
-Ran my first- and possibly only!- full marathon (February)
-Andrew started seminary classes at Southwestern Baptist (August)
-I started my first "real" job as an autism teacher (August)
-Andrew started a new job at Quibids (September)
-Dear friends got engaged, married, and had babies
-Andrew had a major seizure and trip to the hospital (April)
-Went together on a mission trip to Trujillo, Peru (March)
Andrew made one ambitious New Year's resolution this year: Run a full marathon. Since he is the one who originally inspired my love for running and hung with me through all the brutal training of the first half marathon that we ran together, I'd say he is perfectly capable.
I decided to make only 3 resolutions for this year as opposed to my usual lengthy list:
1. Drink more water. As one who is prone to kidney stones, I think this is necessary. I do not enjoy feeling sick to my stomach and having constant back pain simply because I do not make more of an effort to slow down and take a drink.
2. Eat real food away from my desk every day at lunch. Oh, and school cafeteria food is not real food. (As a side note, some of the "healthy choices" we serve to our children at lunch in the public schools are more than mildly concerning.) I plan to pack my own sack lunch every day with delicious, healthy food and then leave my classroom to take a walk or to eat in a quiet, refreshing place. I also am not going to feel guilty for taking 30 minute lunches- at least I hope not.
3. Work to live, don't live to work. I want to do my job well. I want to be a great teacher and make a real difference in my students' lives. However, my health, relationships, and sanity ultimately need to have a higher priority. I lost myself in work this past semester, and I think that God had to teach me the hard way through health issues and hurt relationships that He does not intend for my life to work that way. I will continue to work diligently and to have my students' best interest in mind, but not to the detriment of my personal life. Work is ultimately a means to an end, not an end itself.
As I was throwing away my 2010 calendar just before the Christmas holidays and replacing it with 2011's calendar, I realized that, for the first time in my life, I was not in the least bit sad. Normally, the start of a new year leaves me at least slightly wistful in remembering the joys of the previous one. This year, I was not melancholy at all. That is not to say that God hasn't been immensely gracious to us in the past year, because He has. I should also clarify that we have been the recipients of so many undeserved blessings and joys this past year. I guess the best way to describe my thoughts this time around is that there is real hurt and sorrow in this broken world of ours; we experience much more of that during some years than during others and yet we are never left completely hopeless. This year was hard. And yet, God is still good.
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