Valued

I am well aware that Mother's Day has come and gone, but after a conversation with a friend yesterday and with Father's Day just around the corner, it seemed timely for me to post this now. 

Mother's Day and Father's Day are obviously important.  My mom and dad did so much for me growing up, and they still continue to influence my life in powerful ways.  I don't take the time nearly often enough to show them my appreciation, so I'm glad that there is a day set aside to remind me to show them a little extra love.  Mother's Day and Father's Day have typically been happy times in celebrating two wonderful people who certainly don't have it all together but have worked very hard to pour into their children.  Generally, these days still are happy.  But for the first time this year, Mother's Day came with a pang of sadness for me.

Most you of probably don't know what I'm about to say.  (Yikes.  Here we go.)  Andrew and I have been trying to have a baby for about a year and a half now.  (Here I have to apologize because I know that that amount of time is probably the blink of an eye for some of you reading this blog.  I don't mean to be insensitive.)  Some days are easier than others.  There are times when I feel at peace about the whole thing, times when I just shove it under the rug and try to forget, times when I am heartbroken, and times when I am raging mad.  Well-meaning people often say things like, "God's timing is always perfect" or "When you just trust God and are at peace with your situation, that is when He will give you a baby."  While the former statement is accurate, it often comes across as flippant or trite to someone who is really struggling with understanding the "why's" of life.  The latter statement, I believe, is just not even true.  I think there are plenty of people who may be completely at peace and still aren't able to have children.  God doesn't operate on a rewards system in which only the best, most put-together people have babies and everyone else does not.  Also, it hurts to be told that you can only learn certain things by having children.  Example: "I now know what it means to be selfless because I have kids (and you will have no idea what it means to be selfless until you have kids, too)."  Everyone seems to be learning the same basic lessons in life: patience, trust, forgiveness, selflessness, etc.  The means of learning those lessons are different for everyone because everyone's story is unique. 

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for us.  What I do desire is sensitivity.  Let's be honest.  Most days, I struggle to be thankful for the cards that have been dealt to us.  But if there is anything that makes me the tiniest bit content with our circumstances, it is that I now am more aware of the hurts that some people face.  I am the last person to be casting stones at anyone here because I know that if I would have gotten pregnant as soon as we started trying, I would have been one of the well-meaning people who spat out cliche statements but didn't truly understand.  (The key in that sentence is well-meaning, because I don't think anyone we have talked to has ever intended to be hurtful in their comments.)  Now, like never before, I am attuned to people who have had miscarriages, whose parents have passed away, and who have tried to conceive for years longer than we have.  I don't listen perfectly, and I don't care nearly as much as I should, but I am thankful at least that my awareness of people who hurt has been heightened.

Here I must stop and say a huge "thank-you" to Doug and Bobby at City Presbyterian Church for doing something that I have never seen or heard of being done before.  Of course, no church does everything perfectly, but I was particularly impressed by this.  When Doug stood up to greet everyone on the Sunday evening of Mother's Day, he started off with the typical "Happy Mother's Day, we're so thankful for the wonderful mothers here..." speech and I almost immediately thought, "Great, here we go," and shut down.  But then he kept going and said something like, "As thankful as we are for the moms here, we know that Mother's Day is painful for a lot of women who want to be mothers and cannot.  It is painful for those who have lost their mothers.  It is painful for women who have miscarried.  So let's keep that in mind and be gracious."  Then he asked all of the women in the church to stand up, and he looked out at all of us and said, "You are valuable.  The church needs you.  We're thankful for your unique gifts and talents.  We're glad you're a woman."

I teared up.  Our society has placed such a heirarchy on people and The Church has, too, hasn't it?  (I'm capitalizing "The Church" because I don't think it's one particular church that does this; Christ's church around the world is at fault.)  Married people with children are the most valuable, married people without children are somewhat valuable, and single people are the least valuable.  Of course, no one would ever put it in those words, but isn't that how we operate?  Marriage is seen as the highest "badge of honor," and people earn more gold stars on their badges by having more children.  We act like there is something wrong with people who are not married by a certain age, or couples who have been married for a certain length of time and don't have children.  "When are you going to get married/start having kids," we ask, assuming that that is the next and only logical step for a twenty-something to take.  Not everyone was intended to get married, and not everyone was intended to have children.  What about those people?  Are their gifts not equally as important and useful as the gifts of those who do have children?  Being a mom or a dad is absolutely a significant role in The Church and outside of it.  The world needs loving moms and dads.  But doesn't the world also need enthusiastic single people?  Doesn't it need sweet married couples?  I think so.

Whether you're single or married, whether you have fifteen children or you have none, whether you're black, white, brown, or purple, you are inherently valuable because you are a man or a woman.  Those words don't come from me.  They come from the One who created us.  Even before there were children on the earth, "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good."

Good Ol' Oklahoma

I feel like I can make this comment since I am from Texas myself, but I don't know of any group of people that is prouder to be from a certain place than Texans.  If you ask a Texan what he loves about his state, he will probably not only rattle off a list of reasons about why Texas is so great, but he will probably also give you a list of reasons why whatever non-Texas state that you are from is obviously inferior.  I Googled "Why do people love Texas so much?" and here are some of the responses from Texans.  I'm not even going to comment on them because they really need no commentary.

"Because it's the only place worth visiting for Las Vegas besides New York." (What?)

"Food in Texas makes your taste buds sing."
"Blue Bell Ice Cream!!!!" (with that many exclamation points)

"Because Texas is the best state. Texas is the only state that is self-sufficient. They can grow all their own food, own fuel, etc. No other state can do this. Hooray for Texas!"
"We are a little above the rest and we know you wish you were from here. Have a nice day y'all."

...and my personal favorite...

 "Texas is the wave of the future, if you do not change your ways you will get left behind."

They say that everything is bigger in Texas, and apparently the egos are, too.  (Don't worry, I'm a proud and pretty egotistical Texan at times, as well.)

For the past six years, I have lived in Norman, Oklahoma.  I didn't like hated it when I first moved here.  I complained about everything from the constant windiness (okay, a little annoying), to the uneven sidewalks (at least we have sidewalks just about everywhere!), to the ugly (unique) houses, to the lack of attractions (um, hello, we live about a mile from the OU stadium?!), to anything else that is the least bit unlike the wealthy suburban area where I spent my high school years.  Norman isn't perfect, but I have grown to love its quirkiness and college town charm.

Downtown Norman (Main Street)

What I didn't realize until the past three weeks or so is that parts of Oklahoma are actually beautiful.  It's wedding season, so we have been traveling all across the Sooner State to watch our friends tie the knot.  My friend from Tahlequah confidently claimed before her wedding that "Tahlequah is the prettiest part of Oklahoma."  I didn't believe her.  My only connection to Tahlequah in the past had been watching Where the Red Fern Grows as a child (I think I asked my mom if I could watch that movie about every other day).  As it turns out, Mallory was right about Tahlequah.  Maybe I'll have to start making other connections with that lovely little town.   

Illinois River in Tahlequah

Andrew and I also went hiking in the Wichita Mountains near Lawton, Oklahoma.  Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll let these speak for themselves.

Our final weekend adventure was to Beavers Bend, Oklahoma, for my cousin's wedding.  The drive there was small town after small generic town, but I am somewhat of a country girl at heart and think that back roads and farmlands are delightful.  The scenery at Beavers Bend State Park was absolutely worth the four hour drive.

This was my favorite thing that we saw on the way to Beavers Bend.  I have no idea who those guys are, but we passed the sign too quickly for me to grab a picture. 

Beavers Bend

Maybe Oklahoma isn't THE most amazing state in the Union, but our recent travels have convinced me that it certainly has some redeeming qualities and is much more stunning than most people realize.  Just within the last year or so, I have even caught myself telling people that I am from Norman and not Flower Mound or Houston.  I guess this place is becoming home.

So with all of that, "Boomer Sooner", "Thunder Up", and "God Bless America."  Hey, I'm sorta proud to be an Okie.

The Hills We Die On

I'm hesitant to even publish this post.  I've been going through a "crisis of faith" over the past year or so, and I don't like for people to see my weakness.  But, everyone needs a space to just say what they think.  You might not understand or agree with everything I say, but this is my space to be honest.  I don't necessarily want advice.  In fact, perhaps some of the most hurtful things I have experienced over the past year have been receiving people's unwanted advice or flippant responses to some very difficult questions.  I know that I need to trust God, that "everything happens for a reason" and that "it will all be okay in the end."  I know.  Sometimes all I need is someone to listen without interjecting, "Oh, I know what that's like" or "I have experienced something similar when..."  Just listening and not immediately trying to "fix" me or my issues can be so powerful.

I'm writing for the above reasons, but mostly I am writing for this one.  Over the course of this recent struggle, I have felt either completely crazy or totally alone.  So I'm chronicling my journey primarily in the hopes that maybe someone reading this, someone who has felt completely crazy or totally alone, will take comfort in the fact that probably neither of those things are true.  For sure not the "alone" part.  So reader, if this is you, take heart.  

All of that said, here are just a few of my thoughts lately.    

Go on up to the mountain of mercy
To the crimson perpetual tide
        Kneel down on the shore
Be thirsty no more

Go under and be purified

Follow Christ to the holy mountain
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall
Cleanse your heart and your soul
In the fountain that flowed
For you and for me and for all...

The mountain of mercy.  The holy mountain.  Golgatha.  Calvary.  The hill where Jesus died.

Call it whatever you want, but I don't think that the hill Jesus died on and the hill(s) most Christians die on are the same one.  This issue has been one of the main things that has confused me and made me question who God is lately.  For my whole life, I have never really questioned what exactly I believe and why.  [No wonder people think Christians are idiots.  Exhibit A: Mary Rachel Fenrick.]  I have always had my lists of "Christian Do's and Don'ts" and have been ever so careful to stick to those.  Don't drink alcohol until you're 21.  Do volunteer for Such and Such Christian Activity.  Don't have sex oustide of marriage.  Do tithe 10% of your income.  Don't steal.  Do read your Bible every day.  There are some other, perhaps less obvious, but equally divisive issues.  Don't vote Democrat.  Do homeschool your children.  Moms, don't work outside the home.  Kids, listen to only Christian music.  Do go to a Baptist church because of ABC.  Don't go to a non-demoninational church because of XYZ.

For so long, I have tied myself to these issues, thinking that they are what saves me.  The conclusion I have come to recently is this:  Perhaps those issues are important (some of them definitely are).  Maybe you should have an opinion about them.  The problem becomes when you, like I have done, stake your life on those things or, "choose those hills to die on".  Because then, the Christian life becomes about the Christian and his viewpoint instead of the Christ. 

To be honest, I'm still confused about what a Christian should look like.  But I don't really think it looks like someone who wraps her life around anything except the Ultimate thing, tries to be her own savior, or convinces others that their only hope is to believe the exact same way she does about some above-mentioned, non-essential things (aka, "old Mary Rachel").  I do know that a Christian is supposed to look like Christ, who actually only died on one hill, the one mentioned in the song.  He died on the hill to save all types of people from all types of sins.  That's it.  He didn't die on the Republican hill or the anti-abortion hill, however important those hills may be.  Just the one.       

Christian, would you, with me, try to get the most important thing right first?  I'm not good at this.  I'm often a Pharisee.  But I think that the only way to true freedom for you, for me, and for everyone is to stop carrying our crosses up the hills that we have created and start following Christ to the one hill.

Non-Christian, would you be willing to forgive us?  You're absolutely right about the Christians not being much like the Christ.  I think that one of the reasons I have been so confused about Christianity lately is because I have been looking to Christians to define it for me instead of to Christ.  I want my questions answered and my doubts assuaged.  But I don't think people can do that for me.  So would you, with me, attempt to look at who Jesus really is instead of at Christians, who (myself included) are such inaccurate representations?                        

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.