Today I made a big mistake while teaching. I work in a computer lab, and the teacher's computer can be projected onto a large screen at the front of the class--ideal for watching films, discussing papers together, etc. I had powered it up to walk students through how to format their portfolios that are due in two days and everything was going fine. The instructions over, I gave them class time to work on their projects while I pulled up old essays to finish grading.
What I didn't realize was that while I was commenting on drafts, saving new copies, and entering their grades into my Excel workbook, I had left the projector on. Anyone who cared could have looked up from their screen and saw not only their grades but the grades of all their classmates.
Oops.
Luckily, only one student noticed and he was so upset about his own grade that he didn't really pay attention to anyone else's. He brought my snafu to my attention and I quickly switched off the feed before, hopefully, anyone else had noticed.
While I'm thoroughly embarrassed and not too thrilled with myself for doing this, it did teach me a valuable lesson. I really need to pay more attention to what I'm doing, and not just in the classroom.
What am I spending my time on, really? What am I saying during those "unimportant" moments? How am I reacting to small details as well as big ones? What "unconscious" mannerisms do I have that don't necessarily reflect Christ? This time of reflection reveals a lot about myself--and a lot of areas that I need to work on.
Today I learned more than just double-checking the projector. What will you learn about yourself by looking a little closer at the things we do without realizing?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Untitled Poem II
It has been cast away
So it says
He will never remember
So it says
The sea has swallowed the shame, the pain, never to resurface
So it says
So why can't I forgive myself?
So it says
He will never remember
So it says
The sea has swallowed the shame, the pain, never to resurface
So it says
So why can't I forgive myself?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
True Relaxation: God Can Use You Anywhere!
Too many times in my life I feel like a toddler following my mother around the house, asking a single question in response to her every word. “Why?” Lately I’ve been doing that to God. Why haven’t you given me a sign as to my future? Why have you given me the struggles that I have? Why have you healed others but not me? As of this morning, I have an answer.
Living with a disease like fibromyalgia is a study in patience and perseverance. Everything could cause pain, but not everything will all of the time. It’s so full of variables and unexplained phenomena that I’m constantly on my toes. Will I be able to climb the stairs today? Will sitting in my office chair suddenly cause stabs of pain in my hips? Will I get a migraine or not? There are no definite answers, no good “preventative” treatments, at least not for me. There is just my willpower that will breathe through the pain and the prescription narcotics for when it’s too much for me to bear. One thing does help: massage therapy. Going once a week to have these talented women work out my knotted muscles and address the misfiring nerves actually makes each week more livable.
Still, I wondered why God hadn’t healed me. I accepted long ago that there was a reason for this, but we all know how that goes. Without knowing what that “reason” might be, it doesn’t mean as much. Yes, I have developed a great friendship with the two therapists I work with, but is that all?
No.
Today my session ran a little late (my shoulders were tighter than expected). I dressed in a hurry, worrying about the delay causing a problem for the next client waiting for her treatment. The waiting room was a little more crowded than usual, two women waiting on the couch. I usually would have not taken as much time getting out of there, and even offered to call back later to reschedule for next week. God wanted me to stay, though, and the therapist held me off for a few moments, comparing schedules and getting me my requisite post-massage glass of water. I was about to leave when one of the women burst into tears. Turns out that her quiet phone call in the waiting room was to a sibling concerning their sister—who had been told that depending on the surgery today, she would either survive her cancer for three weeks or three months. Ordinarily, sympathetic looks would be all that I could offer—the sobbing redhead was a stranger to me. A fellow client, but no real connection. God didn’t agree.
Before I knew it I was ministering to the woman, telling her my aunt’s story of a miraculous healing from cancer just about ten years ago. “God healed her. She had faith that she would survive, and in six months there was no trace of the cancers whatsoever—and the doctors still can’t figure it out.” Just this past March we had another scare with my aunt. There was a possibility that her brain tumor, surgically removed back in the 1970s, had grown back as her eyesight was once again diminishing. A specialist in Chicago stood dumbfounded as for no “medical” reason, the disruption in sight had disappeared and there was no trace of that looming tumor.
The crying woman gave me a big hug as she left, and later asked me in the parking lot for my name and phone number so I could try to get her family in contact with my aunt. “Thank you so much for sharing that,” she said while wiping her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’ve been needing.”
If I hadn’t been diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago, I never would have started getting massages. If I hadn’t build up such a great relationship with the therapists, I never would have seen them this often. If I hadn’t been slammed this week with responsibilities, I never would have made my appointment for this morning. That I met this woman in such great need, my story the exact balm necessary, can only be explained by the hand of God.
When it comes to accepting “there must be a reason” philosophies, leaving our faith in God for Him to show us in His time, be prepared for a wonderful and amazing experience. It may take months, years, or even decades, but everything will come together for His glory. Praise God, our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and grace.
Living with a disease like fibromyalgia is a study in patience and perseverance. Everything could cause pain, but not everything will all of the time. It’s so full of variables and unexplained phenomena that I’m constantly on my toes. Will I be able to climb the stairs today? Will sitting in my office chair suddenly cause stabs of pain in my hips? Will I get a migraine or not? There are no definite answers, no good “preventative” treatments, at least not for me. There is just my willpower that will breathe through the pain and the prescription narcotics for when it’s too much for me to bear. One thing does help: massage therapy. Going once a week to have these talented women work out my knotted muscles and address the misfiring nerves actually makes each week more livable.
Still, I wondered why God hadn’t healed me. I accepted long ago that there was a reason for this, but we all know how that goes. Without knowing what that “reason” might be, it doesn’t mean as much. Yes, I have developed a great friendship with the two therapists I work with, but is that all?
No.
Today my session ran a little late (my shoulders were tighter than expected). I dressed in a hurry, worrying about the delay causing a problem for the next client waiting for her treatment. The waiting room was a little more crowded than usual, two women waiting on the couch. I usually would have not taken as much time getting out of there, and even offered to call back later to reschedule for next week. God wanted me to stay, though, and the therapist held me off for a few moments, comparing schedules and getting me my requisite post-massage glass of water. I was about to leave when one of the women burst into tears. Turns out that her quiet phone call in the waiting room was to a sibling concerning their sister—who had been told that depending on the surgery today, she would either survive her cancer for three weeks or three months. Ordinarily, sympathetic looks would be all that I could offer—the sobbing redhead was a stranger to me. A fellow client, but no real connection. God didn’t agree.
Before I knew it I was ministering to the woman, telling her my aunt’s story of a miraculous healing from cancer just about ten years ago. “God healed her. She had faith that she would survive, and in six months there was no trace of the cancers whatsoever—and the doctors still can’t figure it out.” Just this past March we had another scare with my aunt. There was a possibility that her brain tumor, surgically removed back in the 1970s, had grown back as her eyesight was once again diminishing. A specialist in Chicago stood dumbfounded as for no “medical” reason, the disruption in sight had disappeared and there was no trace of that looming tumor.
The crying woman gave me a big hug as she left, and later asked me in the parking lot for my name and phone number so I could try to get her family in contact with my aunt. “Thank you so much for sharing that,” she said while wiping her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’ve been needing.”
If I hadn’t been diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago, I never would have started getting massages. If I hadn’t build up such a great relationship with the therapists, I never would have seen them this often. If I hadn’t been slammed this week with responsibilities, I never would have made my appointment for this morning. That I met this woman in such great need, my story the exact balm necessary, can only be explained by the hand of God.
When it comes to accepting “there must be a reason” philosophies, leaving our faith in God for Him to show us in His time, be prepared for a wonderful and amazing experience. It may take months, years, or even decades, but everything will come together for His glory. Praise God, our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and grace.
Collapsed Children
You commanded us to forgive
Seventy times Seven
You commanded us to love them
As we love ourselves
And yet our neighbors stand out in the cold
Waiting
For an open door
We've heard the sermons preached from
Pulpits
Desks
Doors
Remember we are sinful creatures!
Repent ye unworthy!
Remember Who must save you!
And we wonder why He would want to.
We have closed our hearts full of pains
We have closed our eyes full of tears
We have closed our minds full of fears
We have closed our hands full of chains
We fall.
Seventy times Seven
You commanded us to love them
As we love ourselves
And yet our neighbors stand out in the cold
Waiting
For an open door
We've heard the sermons preached from
Pulpits
Desks
Doors
Remember we are sinful creatures!
Repent ye unworthy!
Remember Who must save you!
And we wonder why He would want to.
We have closed our hearts full of pains
We have closed our eyes full of tears
We have closed our minds full of fears
We have closed our hands full of chains
We fall.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Blank Directional Signs
I have been praying for signs. This is different than when I'm usually praying for signs--when I'm lost in a new (or old) town and can't seem to figure out if my directions meant Main Street or Main Drive (don't even get me started on GPS--driving in Chicago was not fun). I've been praying for God to give me a sign of my future employment, what will determine the next few months of my life. I didn't ask for wet wool on dry ground, or even a baby deer sighting (leftover from a sign I asked for in 5th grade--and got). I simply let the sign be of God's design.
I haven't had a clear directional shout, but I have had confirmation that God has a sense of humor when it comes to teaching me patience.
Hardly any of the schools I have applied to work at have contacted me to let me know of either my rejection or approval, and phone calls have yielded only lukewarm results: we're starting the process now, and should be picking people shortly. My other option was to work part-time (but full-time work) at a local community college which pays insultingly low salaries to adjunct professors. This is my back-up plan, my safety net in case God's choice is to keep me here in my hometown. I'd also work my full-time job on the weekends to keep benefits (meager as they are). If God intends for me to stay in this small town, then I am "prepared." I am also jumpy as a skittish housecat during an electrical storm as I work my way through these last remaining weeks of the school semester.
My boss at my full-time job announces that I might have a brand new client to care for soon, one who will require a lot of lifting and a lot of routine changes. I'm not that fond of change--God, is this a sign that my time at this job is over and I'm going to be moving on? My mother gives away some of the furniture that she was saving for me when I move out. God, is this a sign that I'm going to continue living here for at least another year? A good friend of mine is probably moving back to the Midwest and could use a roommate when she gets here. God, am I heading off to live with her, working in some college while she does her travel agency work? A friendly undergraduate remarks on how much he is going to miss me if I leave and really wants me to stay. God, am I still needed here to help some of these undergrads and former students? Every circumstance, every happening, from finding out I could get used to living at home without going to school (staying here) to packing up kitchen supplies for my own home someday (leaving) is being obsessively examined for clues. I look over my life with a magnifying glass, breathing a prayer for wisdom to spot the nefarious anomaly that will solve my future-seeking dilemma once and for all.
God has got to be chuckling over this. At least shaking His head and wondering what He's going to do with me.
I'm finding that fear is creeping in as the semester eeks away. I will soon be graduated. A non-student adult. My identity, for better or for worse, will be changed. Uncertainty is leading to a discomfort that I push down, deep inside, pretending that it isn't there and that I have faith enough to move mountains of doubt. Truth is, I'm getting nervous. Perhaps my back-up plan is God's sign, and I've just dismissed it. Perhaps all these mixed signals are just designed to test my faith. So far, I'm not sure I'm passing.
My prayer for today is this: God, teach me how to listen to You. Let me know what it is that You want for me, and help me to be patient and wait for that answer.
If nothing else, just keep me sane for finals. :)
I haven't had a clear directional shout, but I have had confirmation that God has a sense of humor when it comes to teaching me patience.
Hardly any of the schools I have applied to work at have contacted me to let me know of either my rejection or approval, and phone calls have yielded only lukewarm results: we're starting the process now, and should be picking people shortly. My other option was to work part-time (but full-time work) at a local community college which pays insultingly low salaries to adjunct professors. This is my back-up plan, my safety net in case God's choice is to keep me here in my hometown. I'd also work my full-time job on the weekends to keep benefits (meager as they are). If God intends for me to stay in this small town, then I am "prepared." I am also jumpy as a skittish housecat during an electrical storm as I work my way through these last remaining weeks of the school semester.
My boss at my full-time job announces that I might have a brand new client to care for soon, one who will require a lot of lifting and a lot of routine changes. I'm not that fond of change--God, is this a sign that my time at this job is over and I'm going to be moving on? My mother gives away some of the furniture that she was saving for me when I move out. God, is this a sign that I'm going to continue living here for at least another year? A good friend of mine is probably moving back to the Midwest and could use a roommate when she gets here. God, am I heading off to live with her, working in some college while she does her travel agency work? A friendly undergraduate remarks on how much he is going to miss me if I leave and really wants me to stay. God, am I still needed here to help some of these undergrads and former students? Every circumstance, every happening, from finding out I could get used to living at home without going to school (staying here) to packing up kitchen supplies for my own home someday (leaving) is being obsessively examined for clues. I look over my life with a magnifying glass, breathing a prayer for wisdom to spot the nefarious anomaly that will solve my future-seeking dilemma once and for all.
God has got to be chuckling over this. At least shaking His head and wondering what He's going to do with me.
I'm finding that fear is creeping in as the semester eeks away. I will soon be graduated. A non-student adult. My identity, for better or for worse, will be changed. Uncertainty is leading to a discomfort that I push down, deep inside, pretending that it isn't there and that I have faith enough to move mountains of doubt. Truth is, I'm getting nervous. Perhaps my back-up plan is God's sign, and I've just dismissed it. Perhaps all these mixed signals are just designed to test my faith. So far, I'm not sure I'm passing.
My prayer for today is this: God, teach me how to listen to You. Let me know what it is that You want for me, and help me to be patient and wait for that answer.
If nothing else, just keep me sane for finals. :)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
490 and counting...
We all know this woman. The one who keeps us up at night. The one who keeps us ripping out our hair in frustration (and Rogaine ain't cheap, babe). The one who makes, quite honestly, the dumbest mistakes and can't seem to see the obvious warning signs ahead of her that this is NOT A GOOD IDEA. She's the one who even drags us into her problems without our knowledge until one day the phone rings... She's a good friend, or at least used to be.
She was my best friend.
I don't quite understand what happened to this girl I knew. She was my rock when I hit sub-bottom in life. She listened and cared and prayed and got me back on track. Once I was healthy, I noticed her sliding and desperately tried to pull her up. I bailed her out. I kept her secrets. I gave her gentle scoldings while still nodding, yeah, I know. I watched as she completely blew up her life, time and time again, for no real reason while denying that she was ever in trouble. At that point, all I could do was watch. She wouldn't let me guide her and I can't save her, just like she couldn't save me. She had to make that decision to save herself.
Time went on, she moved out of town to just over an hour away, and it seemed that after a few rocky starts that things were finally on the rise for her. Yeah, it wasn't her ideal picture of the world, but she was making progress (at least as much as she would admit to on the phone). She made new friends, got involved with a community, and left me behind. In a way, I understood. Long-distance relationships were never my strong point, either. We still chatted occasionally on the phone and kept in touch via Facebook (thank you to that mysterious college student creator--you have no idea what you have done for my social life). I kept up with her as best I could, which isn't easy when I'm working two jobs and returning phone calls was never her strong suit (especially with creditors bugging her for money--but that's a story for another day).
My current struggle with her is one that I'm not sue how to negotiate. The short version goes like this: one of my favorite living authors was visiting her town for a special speaking engagement, the kind of thing that happens once in a blue moon. She promised to get us tickets as part of her "repay me" fund. It would be a bonding event for the both of us, the first time we would have spent significant time together in person in months. It meant the world to me--what could be greater than a public reading and my best friend?
I knew money was an issue so I offered to buy the tickets. No, it's my treat for you, she said. You can pay me back--I just want to make sure we get them before they sell out. Nope, I got it under control. Four months before the reading, it seemed that way--and before I knew it she told me she bought two tickets, balcony seating. Wahoo!
I found out a few weeks ago that the reading was sold-out, and upon touching base with my friend she seemed confused. Apparently she had lied (deliberately or not, I'm not entirely sure) and hadn't bought the tickets. No worries, though--she'd take care of everything.
You know where this is going, right? I spent the night of the reading alone, at home, grading papers while many of my other friends and classmates got to hear my favorite author in person. Everyone was chattering excitedly about it today, thanking me for bringing the event to their attention. I felt betrayed.
If my friend had just been honest, or responsible, I would have had a great time with her last night. She knew what going to that reading meant to me. It wasn't so much missing the event that bugged me. It was that she hadn't taken the time to make room for me in her life. If it was money, she could have asked and I would have had absolutely no qualms or judgments about paying. Instead, I have no clue what she did that night, but I know it wasn't with me. I wasn't important enough for her to take the time or energy to spend less than two minutes on a website and buy tickets. Our friendship wasn't worth the $70 I would have happily spent on seats. Our years of supporting each other as best we could added up to no communication and half-truths. In the end, all I get is a confused reply to my text this morning, wondering how I didn't know that we weren't going.
Making friends, especially close Christian female friends, in this world is pretty tough. We should hold on to the ones we have, forgiving 70 x 7 as Jesus said (although the implication was more unconditional than numerical). Forgiveness means working past the hurt feelings. Forgiveness means being honest that there were hurt feelings. Forgiveness means challenging yourself and the friend to work on the hiccups in the road.
I have a German-Austrian heritage and temper, which means we have a long fuse, blow hard, but blow over quickly. Within a day or two I'll have calmed down and forgiven her. What won't happen overnight is trust. Her behavior as of last year had decimated a lot of the trust between us, and this latest issue crushed most of the remaining bits. I keep asking myself why this happened, what went wrong, what I should have done, just how far I feel like I can trust her now--and I'm telling you that it's not very far. I wanted to believe in her again. I wanted to use this great event to springboard reclaiming lost ground between us. I feel as though I got her answer--silence, and then the usual plea for infinite forgiveness. And she wonders why I don't trust her. Sometimes "sorry" just isn't enough.
Trust is vital to healthy relationships. We trust God to care for us, and therfore don't worry as much (theoretically). We need to trust each other, and care well for that trust, in order to thrive as sisters-in-Christ. After forgiveness comes prayer again--this time to build up trust and start over...seventy times seven. This week, let's pray for the wisdom to rebuild broken walls and set solid foundations. In an increasingly secular world, can we really afford to lose much more ground?
She was my best friend.
I don't quite understand what happened to this girl I knew. She was my rock when I hit sub-bottom in life. She listened and cared and prayed and got me back on track. Once I was healthy, I noticed her sliding and desperately tried to pull her up. I bailed her out. I kept her secrets. I gave her gentle scoldings while still nodding, yeah, I know. I watched as she completely blew up her life, time and time again, for no real reason while denying that she was ever in trouble. At that point, all I could do was watch. She wouldn't let me guide her and I can't save her, just like she couldn't save me. She had to make that decision to save herself.
Time went on, she moved out of town to just over an hour away, and it seemed that after a few rocky starts that things were finally on the rise for her. Yeah, it wasn't her ideal picture of the world, but she was making progress (at least as much as she would admit to on the phone). She made new friends, got involved with a community, and left me behind. In a way, I understood. Long-distance relationships were never my strong point, either. We still chatted occasionally on the phone and kept in touch via Facebook (thank you to that mysterious college student creator--you have no idea what you have done for my social life). I kept up with her as best I could, which isn't easy when I'm working two jobs and returning phone calls was never her strong suit (especially with creditors bugging her for money--but that's a story for another day).
My current struggle with her is one that I'm not sue how to negotiate. The short version goes like this: one of my favorite living authors was visiting her town for a special speaking engagement, the kind of thing that happens once in a blue moon. She promised to get us tickets as part of her "repay me" fund. It would be a bonding event for the both of us, the first time we would have spent significant time together in person in months. It meant the world to me--what could be greater than a public reading and my best friend?
I knew money was an issue so I offered to buy the tickets. No, it's my treat for you, she said. You can pay me back--I just want to make sure we get them before they sell out. Nope, I got it under control. Four months before the reading, it seemed that way--and before I knew it she told me she bought two tickets, balcony seating. Wahoo!
I found out a few weeks ago that the reading was sold-out, and upon touching base with my friend she seemed confused. Apparently she had lied (deliberately or not, I'm not entirely sure) and hadn't bought the tickets. No worries, though--she'd take care of everything.
You know where this is going, right? I spent the night of the reading alone, at home, grading papers while many of my other friends and classmates got to hear my favorite author in person. Everyone was chattering excitedly about it today, thanking me for bringing the event to their attention. I felt betrayed.
If my friend had just been honest, or responsible, I would have had a great time with her last night. She knew what going to that reading meant to me. It wasn't so much missing the event that bugged me. It was that she hadn't taken the time to make room for me in her life. If it was money, she could have asked and I would have had absolutely no qualms or judgments about paying. Instead, I have no clue what she did that night, but I know it wasn't with me. I wasn't important enough for her to take the time or energy to spend less than two minutes on a website and buy tickets. Our friendship wasn't worth the $70 I would have happily spent on seats. Our years of supporting each other as best we could added up to no communication and half-truths. In the end, all I get is a confused reply to my text this morning, wondering how I didn't know that we weren't going.
Making friends, especially close Christian female friends, in this world is pretty tough. We should hold on to the ones we have, forgiving 70 x 7 as Jesus said (although the implication was more unconditional than numerical). Forgiveness means working past the hurt feelings. Forgiveness means being honest that there were hurt feelings. Forgiveness means challenging yourself and the friend to work on the hiccups in the road.
I have a German-Austrian heritage and temper, which means we have a long fuse, blow hard, but blow over quickly. Within a day or two I'll have calmed down and forgiven her. What won't happen overnight is trust. Her behavior as of last year had decimated a lot of the trust between us, and this latest issue crushed most of the remaining bits. I keep asking myself why this happened, what went wrong, what I should have done, just how far I feel like I can trust her now--and I'm telling you that it's not very far. I wanted to believe in her again. I wanted to use this great event to springboard reclaiming lost ground between us. I feel as though I got her answer--silence, and then the usual plea for infinite forgiveness. And she wonders why I don't trust her. Sometimes "sorry" just isn't enough.
Trust is vital to healthy relationships. We trust God to care for us, and therfore don't worry as much (theoretically). We need to trust each other, and care well for that trust, in order to thrive as sisters-in-Christ. After forgiveness comes prayer again--this time to build up trust and start over...seventy times seven. This week, let's pray for the wisdom to rebuild broken walls and set solid foundations. In an increasingly secular world, can we really afford to lose much more ground?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Being Useful
After several days of silence, it's fitting that this entry should be about doing something--especially as I haven't done much of anything lately. Oh, I have excuses. After hosting a conference all weekend, working extra shifts at work Monday and Tuesday, and my thesis defense last week, it's perfectly "acceptable" that I haven't been that productive lately.
Um, sorry, but it's not.
I have a bit of a lazy streak which interacts with my perfectionist tendencies in an odd way--I'll go through a flurry of activity, then spend days (or even weeks) being downright vegetative. Maybe I'll spend a few hours playing a computer game or watching classic TV shows on my computer. Maybe I'll read or stare at my pile of laundry, wishing it to magically do itself. The past few days, not much has been accomplished. I could have, should have done a lot of things. But, again, I have excuses. I'm tired. I'm needing "a break." I'm stressed out. I'm recuperating.
God's not happy with this, however. He gave me so many abilities, so many gifts, and even one day without doing something is a waste of time. Granted, He doesn't expect me to be a 24/7 whirling dervish; He doesn't expect me to be a couch potato, either.
This entry is a reminder to all of us: stop making excuses. We're lazy, we know it, and we need help to change. Today is not over yet. Make it worth something. Check something off the list besides "take a break." Challenge yourself to make today a day that you won't regret.
Um, sorry, but it's not.
I have a bit of a lazy streak which interacts with my perfectionist tendencies in an odd way--I'll go through a flurry of activity, then spend days (or even weeks) being downright vegetative. Maybe I'll spend a few hours playing a computer game or watching classic TV shows on my computer. Maybe I'll read or stare at my pile of laundry, wishing it to magically do itself. The past few days, not much has been accomplished. I could have, should have done a lot of things. But, again, I have excuses. I'm tired. I'm needing "a break." I'm stressed out. I'm recuperating.
God's not happy with this, however. He gave me so many abilities, so many gifts, and even one day without doing something is a waste of time. Granted, He doesn't expect me to be a 24/7 whirling dervish; He doesn't expect me to be a couch potato, either.
This entry is a reminder to all of us: stop making excuses. We're lazy, we know it, and we need help to change. Today is not over yet. Make it worth something. Check something off the list besides "take a break." Challenge yourself to make today a day that you won't regret.
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