A Lesson in Humility

Do you ever think that you're invincible?  You know, that you can do anything without getting hurt, worn down, or burned out?  Yeah, me neither. *Ahem.*

After running a marathon, the state of my foot has been a simple reminder that I can't do it all.  A couple of mornings ago, I nearly threw up when I stepped out of bed because the top of my foot hurt so badly.  (Thankfully, I think it is just swollen and not a stress fracture.  It still feels miserable.)  But a sore foot wasn't enough to stop me from going out for a run. I thought to myself, "Hey, I ran a marathon 2 days ago.  I think I'll go run 9 miles this morning.  Ain't no thang!" Wrong.  Not only did my foot hurt worse than ever, but my toenail fell off as soon as I got home because there was a huge blister underneath and my socks were bloody from another blister on my pinky toe.  Oh, and I didn't even end up running 9 miles.  Surprise, Mary Rachel!  You can't do it all.

I left the Band-aids on for everyone's sake.

I'm not just this way about running.

"Hey Mary Rachel, can you blah blah blah at such and such time?"
"Oh sure, I already have another commitment at that time, but I'll just be in two places at once of course!"

When I needed to score well on a test in college, I'd just study my little heart out at the expense of everything else and I'd make an A.

If my kids at work ever need anything, I pour my soul into my job, often neglecting my husband, my friends, and even my personal well-being.  But by golly, I make sure my job is done well.

There is value in living this way, to a certain extent only.  It's good to work hard.  It's good to not be lazy.  But it's not good to always be trusting in your own strength to get things done, because you WILL get worn out and you WILL fail sometimes.

As the school year is coming to a close (just 3 more short weeks!), I can't help but thinking how, like my foot, the whole year has been a huge lesson in humility.  I feel like I have found a reasonable balance in my life for the first time in ages.  I still err on the side of busyness just for the sake of being busy, but I am doing better.  The humility lesson comes in the fact that I often feel guilty for leaving work when the half day is over because, surprise!, I can't solve the world's problems in the short amount of time I am there.  (Newsflash, MR, you couldn't solve the world's problems even if you were there all day.)  I think back to last year when I was literally falling apart and how I just kept going because I thought I was invincible.  This year hasn't been quite like that, but I often find myself trying to justify the reasons why I am not constantly busy, when it really needs no justification.  I've been humbled in learning that my job, and most other things in my life, really aren't dependent on how how well I perform.  I'm not "super wife," super runner," or "super teacher." For awhile that wasn't okay with me, but it's more okay now than it ever has been.

All of this said, I'm actually going back to working full time next year.  I hope that I can somehow maintain the balance and remember the lessons that I've learned this year.  Until then, you'll probably find me erring on the side of laziness with a book in hand by the pool.  Being a teacher certainly has its perks in the summertime.  :-)

"I'll never run another marathon again."

True story, I said those words and totally meant them a little over two years ago when I ran my first marathon.  Everything about that race was terrible.  (Okay, actually the weather was great.)  I didn't run enough miles beforehand, definitely didn't run enough hills, trained by myself, and practiced in 12 degree weather.  Yes, you read that correctly.  TWELVE degrees outside. 

Then race day came.  Not only did I burst into tears because I had to go to the bathroom so bad and we were stuck in traffic even trying to get to the stupid race (remember that, Dad?), but I couldn't find Andrew during the race to give me my much-needed energy gel.  I don't know why I was thinking that would even work in the first place; you know, only about 20,000 people run these things and the chances of you spotting your spectators along the way are slim.  I've never experienced anything quite as miserable as the last six miles of that race.  Somehow it finally ended.  And then I promised myself and everyone else that I would never run 26.2 miles again.

Funny thing is, though, I obviously ran a marathon again.  So what changed my mind?
1.  I didn't have to train in the middle of winter.
2.  I waited two years before reconsidering my options.  Strange how time makes you forget painful things.  
3.  I decided to hold onto my energy gel (Gu, for you runners out there) at all times.
4.  I trained with a friend.
Mostly #4 changed my mind.  Gosh, I don't know how I used to run for four hours at a time by myself.  Talking with Jessie along the way not only helped me to forget about the cramps shooting through my legs on our 22-mile run, but she motivated me to even get out the door in the first place.  Also, after training for 18 weeks and having to find things to talk about for hours at a time, you either end up really loving someone or really thinking that they're annoying.  I think I made a lifelong friend just by training for a race.  Love you, Jessie.

Marybeth and Molly, my sweet Texas friends. 

April 29, 2012, was not even comparable to February 27, 2010.  So many people came to cheer me on.  It's crazy how just one person cheering for you on the sidelines can build an adrenaline rush that will carry you for miles.  Thanks so much to Molly, Marybeth, and Andrew especially for waking up far before the crack of dawn to go with me.

Andrew's family, Jessie's parents, and several of our other friends were also there.  I was so happy.  Friends (Mal, Ryan, Steve, Bethany, Julie), you probably think it's a little thing to be cheerleaders on the side of the road, but I promise you that it isn't.

Hubs is my biggest fan.

Andrew's sweet family.  Our niece and nephews were obviously thrilled to be there, haha.

 It did start raining... but I'd take rain over heat anyday. 

Ew, look at those hot messes.

I trained much better this time around.  When Gorilla Hill kicked our tails at the race, Jessie and I both looked at each other and said, "We should have trained more hills."  But overall, we did what we should have done beforehand, didn't get upset stomachs, and had a great experience.  When you're running with 3,000 other people, you probably aren't planning on winning.  At least I'm not.  So I was thrilled to have beat my personal goal by just crossing the finish line in one piece, 4 hours and 24 minutes later. 

See, I was smiling because I saw someone I knew!

The home stretch...

I know it's cliche, but running a marathon really is a good metaphor for life.  After running about 23 miles, I began to experience pain in my legs and feet like I've never felt before.  All I wanted to do was to give up and stop running.  The mile marker flags seemed to get farther and farther apart as the course seemed to be endless.  Eventually, though, I finished.  And the feeling at the end of the race was so much more glorious because of having gone through the pain.  No one ever wants to hurt.  We all want the easy way out.  But the easy way is not always the best way, and the lessons learned are always worth the pain.

Enjoy the rest of the pictures.  :-)

So happy to be finished, and to have done it together.  :-)

26.2 miles later!

My awesome friends stayed through the rain to cheer for us.

The man who got me into running in the first place.  :-)

   

Why I still believe in public education

Disclaimer: It is not my intention in this post to convince you to send your kids to public school.  Or private school or homeschool, for that matter.  I cannot do that, nor is it my place to do so.  Only you know your kids, so you get to decide what you think is best for them.  The thoughts below are merely my opinions and some observations I have had lately. In a word, I still believe in public education because of teachers.

 As I was sitting at a teacher award banquet earlier this week, I was struck by the number of outstanding individuals that were all sitting in the same room.  These people are intelligent, creative, passionate, and driven.  I have learned a lot in my two years of teaching, and most of it is attributed to the fact that I have stolen ideas from my coworkers.  Most of all, though, the people in the room that night are caring.  Many of them pour their lives into their jobs, and it is certainly not because they get paid to do so.  They do it because they love kids, and because once they get into the classroom and see those faces, caring is really the only option.

I am not discounting the fact that there are bad teachers.  Of course there are, just as there are lazy, apathetic people in every profession.  In my lifetime, I have only had a very small handful of these teachers, but it only takes one teacher like this to know that they do exist.  But at least in Norman, the number of good teachers far surpasses the number of bad ones.  I wouldn't send my kids to school just anywhere.

 One of the speakers at the banquet that night is a SWAT Team member.  He told a story of entering a house one morning where two children, ages five and ten, lived.  The kids' parents were passed out on the couch from a drug overdose.  Meanwhile, the children had gotten themselves up, gotten dressed, and were in the kitchen packing their lunches.  When the SWAT Team member walked over to talk to the children, the oldest one looked up at the officer with tears of desperation in his eyes and asked, "Sir, will we still get to go to school today?"

 You see, for many kids whose home lives are wrecked, public education is their best hope.  It is at school where they can find consistency,  get a balanced meal, learn the skills they need to break the cycle of poverty and abuse in their families, feel safe, and hear from at least one person that they are worth something.  I always try to remind my students that, in the words of Aibileen from The Help, "You is kind.  You is smart.  You is important." Because once my students walk out the front doors from school every day, I'm not sure when they will hear those words again.  I can't even wrap my head around what some of these six-year-olds have to deal with on a daily basis.

I am not always great at my job.  In fact, there are days when I feel like a complete and utter failure.  On those days, I am especially thankful that I am not in this profession alone.  They say that "it takes a village to raise a child.". As part of "the village," I am glad that there are other teachers who are willing to put more work into a child than only what is necessary.  I'm inspired when I see other "village people" making shy kids speak up, teaching a child to read despite the fact that his parents never finished high school, or donating a coat to a boy who doesn't have one.  Ultimately, I believe that it is a parent's responsibility to raise his or her children.  But for those children whose parents cannot or will not do that, someone must stand in the gap.  And that is where "the village" comes in.  Because teaching isn't primarily about academics; it is about love.

 No, I don't think public education is the answer for every child.  But I do wonder where some kids would be if they didn't have a place to escape the harsh reality of their broken homes for eight hours a day, or a teacher who believed that they had inherent value because they are made in the image of God.  I think that public schools may offer the first glimmer of hope that some kids have ever had.  And that is why I haven't given up on it yet.

"You Find Out Who Your Friends Are"

Andrew likes to laugh at me for loving country music. So lately he's been laughing a lot because country is practically all that's been on my radio or coming out of my iPad on Pandora. I like country because of the twang in the artists' voices, but I also like it because they sing with a certain degree of truth that other genres of music don't always capture. The songs tell stories, instead of repeating the same meaningless lines ad nauseum. Okay, maybe not all of them. "Red Solo Cup" is certainly an exception. You really gotta check that winner out. But, I'd choose a good Zac Brown tune almost any day over Lady Gaga singing about her "p-p-p-poker face (mum mum mum mah)" or Justin Bieber pouring out his 18-year-old heart to his "like baby, baby, baby, oh". Seriously, people? I could write better lyrics than that (and so could my four-year-old nephew).

Sorry; the original point of this post actually wasn't to try to convince you to change your radio station. This song by Tracy Lawrence came on the radio earlier in the week, and although the music isn't my absolute favorite, the words have been bouncing around in my head for the past few days.

"Everybody wants to slap your back,
wants to shake your hand
when you're up on top of that mountain
But let one of those rocks give way then you slide back down,
look up and see who's around then.

This ain't where the road comes to an end,
This ain't where the bandwagon stops-
This is just one of those times when
A lot of folks jump off.

You find out who your friends are
Somebody's gonna drop everything
Run out and crank up their car
Hit the gas, get there fast
Never stop to think 'What's in it for me?' or 'It's way too far'
They just show on up with their big old heart
You find out who your friends are".

We have had a crazy and difficult week. Andrew was in the hospital on Monday for surgery. Don't worry and please don't ask questions; he's really fine. But I don't think I realized what an emotionally exhausting week this would be for me, and Andrew didn't anticipate the amount of pain and nausea that follows basically any kind of surgery.

Then on Friday, a tornado touched down about half a mile from our house. I was freaking out, naturally, while Andrew was standing in the front yard gazing up at the sky. I guess native Oklahomans have heard enough boys crying wolf about tornadoes to not take any weather reports seriously. Last night, though, there was actually reason to be concerned as trees were uprooted and roofs were torn from buildings. News reports stated that eleven people went to the hospital in Norman. Thankfully, everyone we know is completely fine.

I tell you about these two incidents because I think it's easy to forget how wonderful people are until things like this happen. Not a lot of people knew about Andrew's surgery, but everyone who did went over the top to make sure we were alright. We had more offers for meals than we possibly could have eaten in a few days. His buddies came to visit him during the day while I had to be at work. When the tornado came, so many people sent us text messages or called to check on our safety. I've been overwhelmed by the kindness of our friends and family this week, despite the fact that we haven't done anything to deserve it. Thanks, friends. We are truly blessed.

Chicken Fried

Since my brother's birthday was this week, Andrew and I went down to Texas to celebrate with him and to see my parents. The weekend ended too quickly, as it always does. It's true what people say about there being "no place like home".

We have worked hard to make this little house in Norman our home, and we do love it. When we move away from here one day, I think I'll always look back fondly on the summer nights when we sat out on the back porch with friends, roasting s'mores in the fire pit and listening to someone playing the guitar. Or the winter evenings when we huddled in the living room with homemade hot chocolate, laughing until our sides hurt during a game of charades. We have a good life here.

But when we want to escape, really escape, we go to Mom and Dad's house in Flower Mound where, for one weekend, we get to shirk the responsibilities of the daily grind and truly relax.

Sometimes it feels like I have grown up ridiculously fast. Getting married shortly after my 21st birthday was young, even by Oklahoma standards. I graduated early and jumped straight into teaching. We started choosing our own insurance, paying our bills, and making all kinds of "grown up" decisions. I wouldn't go back and do any of this differently, but there are definitely times when I feel overwhelmed by how quickly and drastically life changes.

So when those days come, we go to spend time with family, and for once the world stops spinning so fast. I hope we provide this kind of place for our kids one day- a place full of happy memories where time seems to stand still and suddenly the "urgent" (petty) things in life are not so important anymore. I hope that one day our grown boys will sit in the living room and watch golf with their daddy while our girls stay up late talking on barstools in the kitchen. The love of a family is one of life's greatest gifts, and I'm infinitely thankful for mine.

It's good to be reminded that, in the midst of so many changes, some things will always be there and be as good as ever...like Mom's fried chicken and the simple joy of being with those who you love the most.

Thoughts on Peru (after the fact)

Wow. What a week. I'm not really sure where to start, so I think I'll just list some of the things that stood out, in no particular order.

I am a terrible traveler.
I supposed have always known this about myself, but it never has been more evident to me than it was on this trip. Nineteen hours of layovers and plane rides can be very frustrating and exhausting, but that is still no excuse for my snappiness and impatience. God bless Andrew for not giving up on me after constantly being the target of my bad attitude.

One of the many layovers in the airport

Digging, digging, and more digging. Digging all the time.
Our main job this week was to build the foundations for a new church in a very poor neighborhood on the outskirts of Trujillo. Little did we know that the meter-deep trenches we were to dig would be full of trash and rocks. And 600+ pound boulders. Our work felt so futile and frustrating at times. The sun was hot and relentless. But in the end, the Peruvian pastor in the neighborhood allowed us to lay the cornerstone for the new church, and somehow that made all of our labor worth the while.
Some of the missionaries later commented about what great attitudes we had throughout the whole process. All of us just laughed and said that they must not have heard our side conversations as we dug up diapers, plates, and...wait for it...an entire concrete slab. Good times? Maybe not. Helpful? I sure hope so.

One of the four trenches we dug

Pastor Percy handing us the "cornerstone" at the end of our week

Hanging out with Peruvian friends
It's crazy to me that we have been able to stay in touch with these people, who we literally met for about 15 minutes in a conversation class, two years ago when we visited the National University of Trujillo. We have kept in touch via Facebook and were thrilled to have a free evening to meet up again. Sometimes the language barrier can be so irritating when trying to communicate, but we had such a fun night with Magda and Jorge. It's exciting to have familiar faces now in such a big city.

At the Picasso Art Cafe in Trujillo with Magda and her boyfriend, Jorge

Visiting the local orphanage.
I expected this part of the trip to be completely heartbreaking, but it was actually just the opposite. Hogar de Esperanza (Home of Hope) was filled with so much joy. The kids were well-cared-for and happy. The facilities were great, and the staff was kind. There are government-run orphanages in Trujillo, which are apparently devastating, but I was so encouraged that this one wasn't. Adoption has been heavy on our minds lately, and as we played with and held some of those sweet kiddos this week, my heart was so uplifted to think that maybe, one day, one of those precious faces could be part of our family.

So much laughing. (That boy had just fallen in the sand.)

♥

This girl LOVED Andrew. (She is wearing a mask because they think she has tuberculosis.)

We got to help the kids with their homework... right down my alley.

Wearing Andrew's sunglasses

Jose Luis :-)

This sweet boy didn't know a stranger.

Humility.
Peruvians definitely have some unusual social norms, but in general, they are much more humble people than Americans. Humility is such an attractive quality to me.
Pastor Percy is probably the kindest man I have ever met. He is completely unassuming, and the people in the neighborhood have the utmost respect for him because of his meek and gentle leadership. Though he is poor on earth, I think he has a wealth of treasures stored up for himself in heaven.
Another example of humility that comes to mind is Norvil. We visited Peru Mission's wood shop one day, where men are discipled and taught a trade so that they can provide for their families and be good husbands and fathers. I remember seeing Norvil at the wood shop when we came to Trujillo a couple of years ago. I'm not sure if this stood out to me before, but I definitely noticed the softness in his face this time as he expressed his gratitude for being able to work for Peru Mission. He teared up as he talked about his spiritual and professional growth over the past couple of years. I'm not sure why this particular conversation touched me so much. Perhaps it's because people here (myself included) are typically so ungrateful and arrogant.

Pastor Percy and his son, Jonathan

Norvil displaying some of his handiwork

People living in Trujillo have lots of things working against them.
People in America do, too, I suppose, but our problems are different. The one thing that I thought about all week long was Santos, one of our taxi drivers. Bless his heart. Santos's car was the pits. He got robbed awhile ago, so he has to hotwire his car to start it every single time and then untie the wires when he wants to turn it off. His door handle is broken off, so he has to open the door from the inside. His trunk is broken. He keeps his radio in his pocket and has to stick it back in its docking station because someone will steal it again. Some of this was pretty comical to us, because despite the fact that his car was seriously falling apart, he had a dash cover "to protect it from the sun". I digress. The fact remains that his life and his family depend on his job, and his job depends on his one-foot-in-the-grave car. And that is Santos's daily life. He doesn't complain about it; that's just the way things are. Sure makes me feel silly for complaining about the "obstacles" I have to overcome with my wonderful job.

Tim with our three taxi drivers: Lenin, Noe, and Santos. They thought he was so cool.

Laughter with the best team possible
We have traveled with great people before, but this particular group of people worked together so well, and I feel like I got to know everyone so much better in just a week. We laughed so much (probably partially due to the fact that we were deliriously tired). But there was also a sense of honesty and openness that I haven't experienced before on a short-term trip. Thank you, friends.

After breakfast in Lima on our first day in Peru

After church on Sunday. Left to right: Tim, Anthony, Keeley, Brandee, Emily, Mary Rachel, Andrew, Jess

Coming home from Peru gets a little easier every time. I cried the first time because I didn't want to go back to "the real world" and didn't feel liked could serve much purpose in America. I'm figuring out, a little more every time, that that is just not true. I still want to move to Peru at some point (possibly in the near future), but there is so much work to be done here in Oklahoma, too. People may not suffer as extensively from physical poverty (although working in the public schools does sometimes makes me question even that), but the emotional emptiness seems to be far worse. In Peru, people know they have nothing. In America, they think they have everything and it still is never enough.

I don't think a week can change everything, but I am sure glad that I went. For one of the first times in months, I have some hope that God is working for my good, even in desolate circumstances. And I am so thankful that he says to people like me, "Come ye sinners, poor and needy," as opposed to "Come, those of you who have it together, for only you are useful."

I'll leave you with a few more pictures from our trip. The rest are on my Facebook page.

Sightseeing in downtown Trujillo. Love my man.

At the original gate to the city with Emily. So thankful my friend was able to come!

Pastor Percy's wife and their newest daughter, Cristal

Pastor Percy's son, Jonathan. He was so friendly.

I have the best family. (at Huanchaco Beach)

Surfing is not as easy as it looks!

Thoughts on Peru

In a little over a week, we will be in Peru. This will be my fourth time to go and normally, I would be jump-out-of-my-skin excited at this point in time. Normally.

I wouldn't say I am dreading the trip, but I can think of about 20 other things I would rather be doing on my Spring Break this year. I'll explain.

The logistics of planning a trip for eight people to another country have been somewhat crazy at times. I have always sort of taken pride in my organizational skills, but the tediousness of planning this thing has worn me out (and humbled me!). Thankfully, the logistics part of this adventure is almost over, and we will(hopefully!) all be where we need to be in a few days. Also, through many events over the past couple of months, I have been able to see how God has made provisions for us despite my forgetfulness and imperfections. We got a great deal on plane tickets, and fundraising efforts have been generally successful. These are things that I never could have pulled off on my own.

During this process, I have been highly concerned about two things in regards to the other people going: I want everyone to enjoy the trip, and I don't want people to be stressed out about raising their money. Ironically, these are two things that I cannot control really at all. Just within the past couple of days, I have been able to let go of those worries (more or less), which has made me feel better about the trip than I have in weeks.

The main reason I am hesitant about going to Peru this time around is that I am supposed to be going to tell people about Christ, and I am honestly unsure what I believe to be true about him at the moment. This was not the case six months ago. I did not know it was possible for someone (me in particular) to have as much anger and doubt as I have experienced lately. Sometimes it scares me.

I don't have the option of not going on the trip, so I'll leave soon, whether I am ready or not. I don't think that a week in another country will completely turn things around for me, but I am hoping it will give me some perspective, and that maybe some of the anger will subside as I am reminded of how blessed I am in comparison to others. Every other time I have been to Peru I have seemingly "had it all together". (I don't, by the way.). I'm hoping that honesty will be a good thing, because I think everyone struggles and doubts from time to time. Most people just don't talk about it. And when I think about the people who I want to be around, it is almost never the ones who seem perfect.

So, here's to honesty and to being real. And to hoping that somehow, I can still be useful in my weakness.