Rachelle D. Alspaugh's Blog, page 22

All things new

I thought starting out a new school year in the midst of an adoption process was hard. But I made it.

I thought starting out a new year in the midst of an adoption appeal, amidst all the anxiety and always keeping plans on hand for the possibility of being out for the next six to eight weeks while I traveled to Colombia was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while in the process of writing and publishing a book was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while in the middle of a new adoption process without the guarantee that it would be successful was hard, but I made it. 

I thought starting out a new year as a new adoptive parent of a teenage boy while also teaching a brand new class of four year olds (of which I had NO experience or preparation for) was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while the building was still under construction was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year online was hard, but we did it. 

But starting out a new year teaching both online and in-person while still in the midst of a pandemic--that's a whole new level of hard. A mental and emotional hard that is very difficult to explain. 

Add to that the new grief/learning curve of having my baby gone to college, having to emerge from the last six months of blissful silence of teaching and working from the comfort of my front porch, saying goodbye to the dog we added to our family to take the place of a brother and sister that didn't come home eleven years ago, and watching the church you attended faithfully for twelve years close its doors to the Saturday night service your family always attended. It's a lot of loss and change to try to swallow and process and grieve and keep moving forward all at once. 

The first week back to school (after teaching online for a month) definitely kept everyone on our toes, as we had to make minute by minute decisions as to what worked and didn't work, what kept our kids safe and what didn't, what teaching techniques felt successful and which ones didn't. Everyone supported everyone, the kids listened and tried hard to please you on both sides of the screen, and you could tell everyone was just happy to feel a new sense of structure taking shape. 

The second week back held a lot of trial and error as to how to keep kids engaged both at school and at home, figuring out how to balance this new normal, and getting both sides into a solid routine, knowing every day holds the risk of exposure to COVID that might send you home to quarantine for two weeks or to nurse yourself back to health. Living with that anxiety alone is probably the hardest part of it all. 

The third week back felt long, as the expectations of what you're supposed to be teaching and the reality of what's really happening in the classroom started to collide. The COVID slide/cliff is real and can't be ignored. The gaps are bigger, the kids are far more out of practice, and they are restless, desperate for this virus to go away so they can get back to playing and socializing like they're supposed to. For me, my kids got comfortable this week and seemed to need constant reminders to social distance, to stay in their seat where there is a plastic barricade for their own protection, to sanitize their hands after touching something that someone else touched. 

And that rigor we're supposed to be teaching with? Ha. Academics have taken a big step back in my classroom as I shifted my focus to teaching self-sufficiency and independence. "This is our daily routine, boys and girls, and these are the activities we do every single day in the same order." Before we can focus on any kind of response to reading, we have to focus on actually reading. Back to repeating and reading high frequency word lists, simple syllable flashcards, etc. And number sense? We can't even begin to work with four digit numbers when we still don't understand two digit numbers. It's gonna be one of those years where we have to back up quite a bit here at the beginning to set a solid foundation before we can build on it. And it's more than obvious that these kids haven't had to sit in a classroom for half a year. We ALL got used to the comforts of home without strict restroom and eating schedules/limits and are having a hard time having to work from a hard desk and chair all day. It's hard for the kids in class to see the online kids "come to class" with a snack or sit comfortably on a couch or bed, while it's hard for the online kids to see the kids in class be able to see and socialize with each other.

I must admit, this week was hard, and I started out a rather weepy mess, driving to school in tears the first few days. I missed my boy, the reality of the losses at church hit me hard, my house felt different and empty without our dog, and I felt this guilt about letting him go, even though I knew it was the most compassionate choice due to his multiple health issues. I got to school on Monday and had minor interruptions seem to break my concentration and focus all day long. No matter what I did, I couldn't keep everyone happy, I couldn't keep every student engaged, and I couldn't meet every expectation put over me- at school, at home, and especially outside of school and home. I felt like I just might scream or fall apart if one more person reminded me that I let them down or disappointed them in some way (not just in school) or just didn't do something correctly. I needed encouragement, so I specifically prayed for it every day. 

And then the librarian let me know that my class behaved better than any class all year so far.

The SPED inclusion teacher told me how much she loved my class.

My assistant principal had a dance party with my kids during indoor recess and told me what a great group they are.

My little girls complemented me on my hair, my pretty bows, my earrings that I rarely wear, my shirt that I pulled out for the first time since the temps started lowering, and my purple mask that matched the purple in my shirt.

My kids told me they love our 30 minute independent writing time most out of everything we do, those 30 minutes after lunch when I put on calming music and we just all sit and write. For this writer who loves teaching writing more than anything, having a class that loves it as much as I do is a HUGE blessing, compliment, and encouragement.

My husband had a delicious dinner waiting for me every single night, along with a clean kitchen. 

I reached 500 miles on my bike since COVID started, 500 miles of exercise and mental retreat I didn't used to give myself. 

God even prompted me one evening to get out my binder full of Scripture verses that I've colored and just sit and read them aloud. Each one encouraged me, uplifted me, soothed my heart, and affirmed me.

Though I started out a weepy mess this week, God reminded me that He sees me and hears me and walks beside me. He reminded me that I'm exactly where He wants me doing exactly what He called me and equipped me to do. There are many parts to teaching virtually that I actually really enjoy, such as prerecording lessons and letting kids watch them and learn at their own pace, in their own way. I've enjoyed watching my kids become more self-sufficient and self-directed, helping them realize all the resources they can choose to tap into, giving them options of how they present their work--on a digitized worksheet they did on the computer, using tools on the computer to draw or type in various colors, working on a dry erase board as their scratch paper, working in their journals and then taking pictures to upload to their online journal. I enjoy a near paperless classroom and the ability to pull out my phone or ipad to check up on their progress or make comments on their work at any time. I enjoy the daily check in from an online student who leaves me daily audio comments on how his day is going and how much he enjoys his schoolwork. I love hearing my kids on both sides of the screen tell me how happy they are every day to be "in school". 

I remember a quote from Mary DeMuth from my online Bible study this summer that fits well right now. Grief and joy hold hands. I'm in the midst of a lot of loss and change right now, but I'm also finding a lot of joy in all the newness around me. Change is hard, but it's also good and sometimes quite needed. As I look at the pictures my kids upload of their work and I see those masks on their faces in the picture, I can't help but tear up. I should see a smile on their face instead of a mask. I should be hugging them instead of constantly stepping back a little bit further. But then I see them hard at work, each in their own little way, and I smile behind my own mask, knowing that God is definitely making all things new. Beauty will emerge when we can one day take these masks off, smile, and huddle together again, and we will be thankful for all that we learned through it. 

I stopped praying for protection from COVID every day and started praying for protection THROUGH it. Through this season, He's still in control and still by my side. 

I Love My Church

It's true. I really do love my church. My people. My safe place. My place to be filled and to fill others, to serve and to actively be part of the body of Christ.  A place to both learn from others and to teach what God is teaching me. To be prayed for and to lift up and carry others in prayer. And it's been so good to be back in the service in person the last two weeks, to be back home. I teared up on the drive there last week, and I teared up during worship this week. Life has held so many ups and downs, but my church has always been there to meet me through every one of them. There are pros and cons to being part of a big church versus a small church. Many people can walk in and only see the cons. After serving at my church for seventeen years now, I walk in and only see the pros. So. many. pros. I love everything about being part of a big church. 

Only being back home looks quite a bit different than I could have envisioned just six months ago when the Church unexpectedly left the building. Back home meant God took us back to the main campus where we started out seventeen years ago. 

The campus we had no intention of ever leaving when our local Firewheel campus opened in the spring of 2008, but God made it pretty clear He had plans for us to raise our son there, closer to home. So we did. We left a Life Group and small group that we dearly loved to move to a smaller campus closer to home. And I must say that we all thrived at the Firewheel campus. It had a small church feel with all the big church benefits. We attended the Saturday night service, which gave us a closer relationship with all of the leadership in the church in a more casual setting. David grew close to every leader over him from fourth grade and up, diving in to every youth activity, as well as every mission trip opportunity offered him. Mike served as an usher at Firewheel and attended Man Church pretty consistently at the main campus as long as his schedule allowed, maintaining connections with friends there while encouraging friends from Firewheel to join him. I found my niche teaching women's Bible studies and working closely with the women's ministry. A connection in a women's Bible study led us to a new Saturday night Life Group that literally just wrapped its arms around us and carried us through our entire adoption saga. Being part of such a big church gave us the opportunity to introduce Juan David to his new church and start attending on Saturday evenings online all the way from Bogota', Colombia. So by the time he came home, our church was already familiar to him. He fell in love with Lakepointe Church immediately, grew close to the youth leaders rather quickly, and found his own relationship with Christ through the youth ministry of our church. Eventually he found himself serving as a leader in some capacity, as well. 

We loved being part of the smaller campus and know that the location allowed us to be more involved in weekly activities. But the main campus still held ministries that kept us with our feet in both locations. Man Church, Women's Bible study leader events, Women's Ministry gatherings, Rockwall Christian Writer's Group, Lakepointe Adoption and Foster Care Ministry, ReEngage, mission trips, and youth events. 

Still, we loved our little campus and had no intentions of leaving. We loved attending every Saturday night as a family, where we occupied one of the rows all the way up in the front. We loved our Life Group, and we loved serving there. When I think back to that last week we attended together as a family back in February, I tear up at the fact that we had no idea it would be the last time. Our whole world was about to change. 

COVID arrived in the U.S. a week later and spread like wildfire. Our weekly family church attendance on Saturday nights took place from the comfort of our living room and through a Zoom link for Life Group over the following six months. Then out of the blue this summer, our Life Group called a midweek meeting to break the news that whenever we did rejoin physically as a church, our Saturday night service no longer remained an option. Either we switch to Sundays, or we go back to the main campus. Though we had no intention of ever leaving Firewheel, I will say that the Sunday morning option did not even feel like an option to me. I felt in my heart at the first announcement that God was pulling us back to where we started. David was about to graduate and go to college, Juan had already gotten heavily involved in another church in McKinney on Sundays with his friends he met at DBU, and I had already taken a step back from women's ministry in order to attend a midweek marriage ministry with Mike at the Rockwall campus. No better time in life to make a change than this, I guess. 

Sundays are sacred to me. They are my day of rest and rejuvenation. A day to wake up and not feel rushed to be somewhere first thing in the morning, to catch up on physical rest, to spend quality time with God, to reconnect with my spouse, my family, or friends. To find time to write if there's something on my heart. When I first found Saturday night church sixteen years ago, church took on a whole new meaning to me, and I finally understood God's mandate to take an entire day each week to rest. Sunday is like my seventh day, and to me, it's sacred.  I just physically and mentally cannot seem to rest on a Saturday, as I feel like I have so much to catch up on after a full week of work. As long as I have the option to attend church on a Saturday night, to me, there is no other option. 

So, though we had no intentions of leaving, it seems that God has closed our chapter at Firewheel and is pulling us back to where we first started. In a sense, like coming back home. Since I always kept one foot planted in both locations, anyway, it doesn't feel a bit foreign to me. I feel like God is telling us, "I'm doing a new thing. Don't you see it?" We've been part of three different Life Groups over the last 17 years, and each one was exactly what we needed with the teaching we needed and the relationships we needed at the time. Perhaps now that we're entering a brand new "childless" season as a couple, there is a new group, new teacher, and new set of relationships He is preparing for us. 

All I know is, no matter what campus (or even country) I find myself in, Lakepointe Church always feels like home to me. And it is so, so good to be back home in church in the physical presence of other believers.

I really do love my church and am so grateful to be part of it for the last 17 years that I've lived in Texas.  

Walking back into the fire

It's been six months since I've had kids in my classroom. Kids who wrote the date under the calendar for me two days before we left for spring break. They got busy and forgot to change the date the next day, and not a single child has been in my classroom since then to change it . In fact, it still reads the same today. I haven't had the need to change it since everything went digital, and there's also something almost sacred about leaving it there just the way those kids left it. 
Now here we are six months later, and tomorrow a whole new set of students will walk into my classroom. Well, at least half of them will, while I continue to teach the other half virtually. And the half that do come in to the classroom will come in fully masked and will wear face shields all day and sit at desks barricaded by plastic. Thankfully we've already had four weeks of bonding over a screen and time to build some sense of community--without all the masks and barricades. And it's actually been an advantage to meet my kids right in their homes, giving me a truer sense of the environment they're coming from. 
I must admit I have a lot of mixed emotions about the big day tomorrow. Excitement to see those smiling faces in person after teaching them over a screen for the last four weeks. Sadness to know I can't hug them. Nervous about having to teach behind a mask. Scared about all the extra exposure to people who may be carrying the virus after having carefully isolated myself for so long. Heartache over seeing my kids from last year that never got the closure to second grade they deserved. Dread over having to say goodbye to the bliss of silence and the excuse to keep to myself more (which has been a huge gift to me, honestly.) A bit of anxiety over what might be next, or how long our in-person class will last.
 Bringing kids back into the classroom complicates the whole scenario of any possibilities of getting sick, making it so much more important to get the kids into a strict routine as quickly as possible because once you're out, you're out for awhile. But so far, as we've watched other schools around the country reopen before we did, I haven't heard of any huge spikes in cases. So perhaps we'll all be just fine. That's what I'm praying for, anyway. But God knows, and He will be right there no matter what, either protecting me from sickness or giving me strength through it. 
I don't know what this coming week, month, or year will look like, but when I look at that haunting picture from six months ago, I'm reminded to seize the day at hand. To make it matter. To make it my top priority to love my kids and make them feel as safe and secure as possible. To take the time to rest and care for myself so I can stay as healthy as possible for them. To keep track of my own batteries and know when I need to recharge. To encourage and uplift my teammates and my leaders as we walk back into the fire together. 
If I've learned anything through these last six months, I've learned to protect my need to spend time alone. Having so much time alone made me see how much I need it and failed to protect it. Just like I plan time to spend time with others, I have to plan time to spend with me (and God). I process things at a different pace, and if I don't give myself that time to work out my thoughts and emotions--by reading, writing, journaling, blogging, sitting in silence on my porch while it's still dark out, or just out riding my bike, I struggle to move forward.  I get stuck and can't even begin to articulate why. Life has changed and continues to change in rather significant ways that I'm daily trying to process emotionally. Plus I'm completely out of practice of being around people 24/7, so I've noticed that my social battery dies quite a bit more quickly these days. 
So, today being a holiday, I planned for a morning of silence for just me. And boy did I need it, as I cleaned like crazy as a way to work out my nerves regarding all that change that tomorrow will bring. Then Mike and I sat and binged on our favorite show on Netflix all day long after he got off work early in the afternoon. Lol. Not the most exciting Labor Day, but I knew what I needed before tomorrow. 
Now as I head to bed, I'm hoping for a calm night without any of those crazy first day of school nightmares! If I do have any, I'm sure they'll be like no other first day nightmare I've ever had before because there's never been a first day back like this one. 

The big RELEASE

When God gave me the word RELEASE this year, I saw two big things on the calendar for the 2020 year that would require openly releasing my only biological child into God's hands. A trip to South Africa without me, and a physical removal from my home to a college dorm at Dallas Baptist University. Both tore at my heart, while both gave me great excitement for my son. Both would happen very close in time to each other. One in mid-July, the other in mid-August.

For reasons God only knows, South Africa remains on hold. The team David so eagerly awaited serving together with one last time may or may not come back together, as they all drifted apart throughout the whole COVID pandemic. Seems God has more to do in their hearts before they go, and He is obviously working on the South African side, as well, preparing a harvest that only He can do. 

The second date on my calendar did come, though, and we successfully moved David into a dorm room at DBU this week. I thought I'd be a bit more emotional by now, so perhaps it hasn't really sunk in yet. But I'm so excited for him to be there, and it was definitely time. David is a fiercely independent child, and as he grew into a very mature young man, I saw the need for him to be able to sit under solid Christian teaching in a Christian school environment to wrestle through his deep thoughts and convictions on his own, to begin to develop his own worldview apart from his parents. The college years are critical, and I'm thankful for his choice in a Christian college to help shape him through these next years.

College looks a bit different now than it did just a year ago, with strict COVID protocol in place limiting the number of people in any location at a given time, including classes, chapel, the cafeteria, and even in the dorm. Everything will take on a more hybrid style, which makes me even more thankful for the laptop we invested in for him at Christmas last year. They have to wear masks inside any building with the exception of their own dorm room with their roommate. We are hoping and praying that there will not be any spread of the virus on campus so that neither he nor his roommate will have to come home to self-isolate. Thankfully, though, with everything being hybrid-nature and digital, it looks like even having to self-quarantine should not set them back for classes. 

About a year and 3 months ago, the transmission on David's truck went out, and he and his dad decided to take it as an opportunity to completely rebuild the truck, including completely switching out and upgrading the engine, the transmission, in addition to giving it a whole new look on the outside. They hoped to finish it all last summer, but the project ended up so big that it took until the very last minute of THIS summer to finish their project. They worked tirelessly on it, bonded a lot, and David learned so much about mechanics that will follow him for life. I don't know that there's ever been a boy more proud to take his truck to college with him. What a huge accomplishment for an 18 year old kid. So I start my pictures with the truck in progress because that's a big part of the story of his move-in-day.

They were still painting and putting on a few final touches that morning of August 19th, but they finally finished up and got the truck loaded to take to DBU. We decided to trailer it over there rather than take any chance of it not being highway ready yet. He'll just be driving it around town for now until it has a few miles on the new engine. 





My view as I drove behind the trucks with all of David's stuff in the back of my car. 
At DBU, getting ready to drive it off the trailer and up the hill toward his dorm.


I cannot tell you the emotion in seeing David drive this truck, after it's been sitting in a million pieces in the driveway for the last year and three months. It really runs!!! They really did accomplish their mission.


David and Kaden, getting ready to unpack and get settled into this new chapter in life. They're actually high school friends. They didn't spend much time together in high school and have rather different personalities, but they connected due to their very similar convictions in life. 


Ready with the essentials, at least:Coffee, a comfy couch, TV, stocked fridges, snacks, and plenty of Mountain Dew

Their decorations match their convictions well. Back the Blue (David is incredibly patriotic), the Christian flag (Kaden is a worship leader), and the Cowboys (enough said). 




The same dorm where Juan David started out his first year, though David is on the bottom floor.




Possible job opportunity on campus? We'll see. At least there's no drive-thru.



And so it is. I left my boy at a city on a hill, one of the most beautiful places to visit in the DFW area. I miss him already, but I know it's time. And I'm so thankful for his opportunity to study at DBU. If I go missing one of these days, you'll know where to find me. Lol. Date nights with Mike eating Chick Fil-A on Sunset Terrace at DBU, perhaps with a quick visit to see David? Sounds like a good plan to me. Haha.

The view looked a little different on the way home, following an empty trailer. 

So many mixed emotions.

Little did I realize just how much God was going to have me release this year even before the big release of my son to college. In addition to learning how to live without David here so much, I've had to release everything I knew about teaching and am learning/creating a whole new system to teach my second graders both virtually and in-person as socially distanced as possible. I'm not afraid of the risk of bringing some of the kids back, and we'll make it a positive year no matter what. But the work upfront to get it all set into motion is quite overwhelming and time consuming pretty much recreating everything onto a digital format to meet the needs of all students, no matter where they are joining me from.

Then there's church. We're finally reopening after six months of meeting online. However, my precious Firewheel campus where I've served for the last 12 years has decided to cancel it's Saturday night service. Moving back to Sunday mornings is just not feasible for me, so we're headed back to the Rockwall campus where we started out, now 17 years ago. I'm both sad and excited, knowing that God led us to Firewheel to raise David. We're in a new chapter now, and God knows our needs as a couple. I have faith that He's got just the right Life Group and relationships waiting for us, though it is another release that I could never have seen coming. 

Changing lives forever

Some people come into our lives and touch us in a unique way. Some people have a profound impact on us, and then there are a few that cross our paths and change us for the better.
When I think of my friend Marsha, I am eternally grateful for how she truly changed my life. I would not be where I am or the person I became without her impact on my life. When I walked into a new Life Group one Saturday night after church now many years ago, she stood up front behind a podium and shared an update on her involvement with the prison ministry and asked for specific prayers. Her humble sincerity really struck me, as tears streamed down her face while she talked about her gratitude to God for choosing to work through her, despite all her mistakes in life. She was real. I knew that first night that I wanted to get to know her more.
Soon after, we signed up to be part of a small growth group/accountability group that would meet in homes about twice a month. I was so excited to find out that she and her husband were part of my group, along with three other couples that would become like family to me.
One night in the early stages of establishing that growth group, we met at another couple's home for dinner. As we ate, we went around the table answering a spiritual question about ourselves. "Tell us about your spiritual walk right now."
Well, that shouldn't be too hard, right? Do I keep things simple here, tell the "church girl" answer, or unload the truth about the realities of my broken marriage and all the anger and bitterness that still ate away at me every day. The past that I still couldn't get past, even after we moved and left it 2,000 miles behind. 
By the time they got around to me, I knew I had to open up. This was a safe place. "Well, I spend time in Bible study and prayer journaling every morning, but honestly, I feel dead inside spiritually. I'm stuck. We came to Texas not too long ago with a broken marriage, and I'm still struggling to put it in the past and move forward."
She looked across the table at me and locked eyes with mine. She knew my struggle from experience, and somehow we just connected. She pulled me aside later and told me she'd been in my shoes and felt the way I felt. She told me how her life changed after reading The Power of a Praying Wife and learning to pray effectively over her husband every day. It was more than a book. It gave her a new lifestyle that healed her heart in ways she didn't even know she needed to heal. As she healed, so did her marriage. 
A few months later, I decided to give it a try. We'd just bought our first house with a big front porch, so when summer came along, I sat outside on my front porch every morning and read through that book--and prayed. And then when I finished the book, I put paperclips on the specific prayer pages and continued to pray them. Stuff I'd never thought of praying over my husband before. And little by little, day by day, the anger and bitterness I'd held onto for so long literally started to melt away. I saw my husband with new eyes as God helped me see him the way He does.
Then I bought more Scripture prayer books and started to pray Scripture prayers over my son, my family, my friends, my workplace, and myself every day. 
Before I knew it, I'd cultivated a life of prayer that I'd only dreamed of having, and I saw God answer me so very tenderly, faithfully, and specifically in so many areas of life that summer. My front porch became my sanctuary where God met with me each and every day. Learning how to cultivate a life of prayer changed me forever. 
And it all started with my friend, Marsha, who changed me forever--and the lives of every person I pray for.  She inspired me, she challenged me, and she loved me. 
That growth group became like a second family to me, as we continued to eat many meals together in each other's homes, got together for dessert and coffee, shared each other's burdens, read Scripture together, and prayed together. Marsha, especially, was my biggest support and encouragement throughout our first adoption process. Little by little, though, we all went our separate ways, as each couple moved away and then we, also, moved to a different campus for our church much closer to home. We all kinda lost touch with each other except through a Facebook post here and there. We met up for lunch with another friend a few years ago, and Marsha shared about some neurological problems that she was experiencing that had really affected many areas of her life. I kept her in my prayers, but we sadly fell out of touch again shortly after.
On May 30th of this year, I got an unexpected call from a friend from that group. 
"Did you hear the news? Marsha passed away yesterday." 
My heart sank, and my thoughts immediately went back to that dinner around the table when she connected with me. I couldn't help but thank God for the years that God brought our paths together and for the way she changed my life. Though we fell out of touch over the last five years or so, she still continued to affect me. That's the kind of friend that I hope I can be to others, the life I hope to live out just as she did, humbly and transparently seeking Jesus and pouring out His love everywhere she went. 
Due to COVID, they weren't able to have a funeral or memorial service earlier, but they finally celebrated her life today, two months later. What a beautiful tribute to someone who loved Jesus with her whole heart and lived every day passing on that love to everyone around her--even as her disease took more from her every day, even while living out the rest of her life in a nursing home. She never hid the mistakes of her past--they were her testimony to how God can redeem anyone and anything. They just made her love Jesus even more. That's what made her so special and what made her stand out above the rest. In touching and changing my life, she continues to touch and change every person that I get the privilege to touch and change in my own circle of influence. 
Thank you, Marsha, for opening your heart to me and teaching me the healing power we find in prayer. I am so happy to know you are fully healed and get to be in the presence of Jesus every day now.

Coming out of the quiet place

I started July with a prompting from the Holy Spirit to make it a month of R.E.S.T.

A month to:
Refuel/Refill my cupExpect to see GodSoak up God's presenceTrust God's sovereignty and controlUpon asking God to refill my cup, several virtual opportunities popped up that let me know He heard my request and had just the "fuel" that I needed at this particular time.
Let's just say that I soaked every one of them up, and I've got journals filled with pages and pages of notes to review (I learn and process information best by writing it down).

A two-day cross-cultural ministry course led by a missionary that mentored me as an intern in Mexico over 20 years ago. Though I only spent two short months in Mexico that year, the experience living with, working under, and learning from him and his wife still impact me today. As I listened to those in attendance (mostly missionaries and church leaders), I was once again reminded of all the cross-cultural aspects of my life that God prepared me for and continues to equip me for today. In my workplace, in my classroom, in online relationships, in ministry, and in my own home.
A full-day conference for teachers of faith called Teacher, Be Still, where each speaker reminded me that God will be with me every step of the way throughout this school year, reminding me that He is IN me. He commands me to be salt, to stay salty in my workplace. But I have a responsibility to stay plugged in, to start each day with Jesus, in order to not lose my ability to add flavor. My school is my mission field, but if I don't have a constant source to draw from to refuel, I will become useless in that mission field, as well as in all other areas of my life. Cutting off access to salt has a detrimental effect on all of society. I have two choices this year: Believe the worry and the fear OR accept the call to the front line and trust that God is on the front line with me. I can see all that's broken around me, or I can choose to see the beauty in that brokenness. It's there. I just have to look for it. 
I transferred all my notes directly to my Teacher Planner so I have them with me whenever I need them. 
A weekend conference with Priscilla Shirer and her sister called Desperate for Jesus.  Several speakers presented, but the one that stood out to me the most was Katherine Wolf, speaking about how to still praise God in suffering, reminding us that even when all seems lost, we have to find gratitude for what IS left, pick up those pieces, and build a new life that may not look anything like the old, but it can still be beautiful. (Sure sounds a lot like the school year ahead!) We can change our attitude and shift our perspective when we realize that God chose us for hard things because HE IS ABLE. We can ask God questions without questioning God or His character. Perhaps the treasure He allows us to find in the darkness is a treasure that someone else needs, and He chose US to carry that treasure to them. 

In addition to those three virtual conferences, I also got to spend the entire month of July digging deep into Scripture through a study called Into the Light and then meet virtually with a small group of women to discuss what God has been teaching us through it. I finished up a four week study on Facebook Live with my pastor's wife about how God wants us to FLOURISH in all areas of our life. I read several marriage books that had been recommended to me earlier in the year, I spent time coloring and meditating on the Psalms, and I prayed tons of Scripture over my husband and my sons every morning. I got to spend nearly every single morning outside on my front porch just soaking up God's presence, the part of summer that's always the hardest to let go when school resumes.

That's me and my mom sitting in the back row for the taping!





I love all the ways God continues to refuel me and the ways I can physically recharge in the summers. Even Jesus modeled that need to me, for both physical and spiritual renewal/connection with God.

Luke 5:16 CEVBut Jesus would often go to some place where he could be alone and pray.
Mark 6:31-32 CEV But so many people were coming and going that Jesus and the apostles did not even have a chance to eat. Then Jesus said, "Let's go to a place where we can be alone and get some rest." They left in a boat for a place where they could be alone.
Mark 1:35--Very early the next morning, Jesus got up and went to a place where he could be alone and pray.
Luke 6:12--About that time Jesus went off to a mountain to pray, and he spent the whole night there.
Matthew 14:13a--After Jesus heard about John, he crossed Lake Galilee to go to some place where he could be alone.
Matthew 14:23--Then he went up on a mountain where he could be alone and pray. Later that evening, he was still there.
Mark 6:46-47a--Then he told them goodbye and went up on the side of a mountain to pray. Later that evening, he was still there by himself....
Jesus loved people. Dearly. He became one of them, lived life with them, and ultimately laid down his life for them. But he knew there were times that he needed to retreat to the quiet place.
As my pastor put it in a short devotional one morning this week, sometimes God instructs us to stay put so that we can receive the power we need to move forward. To go back out into the world. Personally, I'm pretty good at retreating to the quiet places. I thrive in silence. My thoughts gain clarity and my creativity comes to life when I spend time alone. I would much rather prefer attending a virtual conference from my front porch or living room than attend a large gathering, surrounded by people on all sides with no chance to really connect with my thoughts, constantly having to make small talk and mingle during short breaks. But God didn't create us for a virtual world, whether there's an invisible contagion out there or not. He created us for community, and he commands us to be salt and light in the world. As much as I would love to, I can't stay in my quiet bubble forever. There's purpose outside of me for this time of renewal inside of me.

These conferences were just what I needed, reminding me of God's purpose for me, equipping me spiritually and empowering me to go back out into the workplace with a supernatural courage and energy. This school year looks to be the most challenging one yet. I'm so thankful for the much needed break so that I can head to the front line with all the power I need to stay salty, no matter what comes my way.

Here we are again

Or are we? I don't know that there's any again to where we are today.

This week marks the last full week of summer break. My last week of summer before I embark upon my 18th year of teaching bilingual students at Bullock Elementary. If this coming year held any bit of resemblance to my last seventeen years, I would have already been in to my classroom, quietly and slowly getting things organized and set up. I can think best when no one is around and the building is silent, so I always find a way to get in to the building at least a week early, if not two weeks, to get my classroom ready. Then when everyone gets there the following week, I can feel free to socialize with anyone who comes by or I can get started on plans, activities, and copies for the first week of classes.

I would have a notebook already filled with notes about how I wanted my classroom to look, creative ideas about how to manage things a little differently, something new I want to try out, etc. I also would have made a few small purchases for my classroom, likely at garage sales, the Dollar Tree, and Big Lots. And perhaps I would have a few digital documents saved and ready to go for the year.

On the home front, now is about the time I might start to panic over losing my last bit of free time and control over my schedule. Is there anything around the house that still needs attention that I haven't gotten around to? Any last minute appointments I need to make? Any friends or family members that I want to try to get together with for a quick lunch break?  Any last fun outting I want to attempt to squeeze in with my boys?

But this year looks a bit different than most years. Okay, different than any year ever.

No one is allowed in the building, so there's no early classroom preparation. In fact, though staff development starts a week from tomorrow, we haven't even gotten confirmation regarding how and where that week of staff development will actually take place. When classes start the following Monday, they will be 100% virtual for at least the first four weeks. Teaching rules and procedures won't look anything like it has in the past. Rather than practicing how we line up and enter/exit the classroom, beginning procedures will be about how to properly access digital assignments and lessons, how and when to mute the microphone during virtual meetings, and finding ways to become a community over a screen. Once the kids do actually come back to the classroom, there will be a whole new set of procedures and routines to teach, mostly regarding safety and teaching what this new way of COVID learning looks like. We'll be wearing masks and face shields, we'll sit far apart rather than in groups and clusters, we'll each have our own materials stored at our desk rather than the community way we've done for years. Who knows how long we'll have to go without using any playground equipment, share manipulatives, sit on the rug together, or have buddy-reading time on the beanbags. Everything about school will be foreign to all of us. Everything that my students tell me they love about my classroom and the way I teach and manage things won't even exist, well, except for the way I tenderly love each of them. Community won't look anything like we've seen before. Yes, we'll build it. It's just going to look and seem pretty foreign for awhile. Kinda feels like I'll be dropped off in another country again to learn a whole new culture all over again--except this time they're aren't any natives to learn from because we're having to build this new culture one day at a time. Though I don't know how many students will actually be back in the classroom (since they had the option of choosing remote learning for the whole year), I do look forward to the ones that do come back because this group of students was my very last group to teach in Pre-K, so it will be my second opportunity to teach many of them.

So, my bank account is a little fuller, as I  haven't purchased a single thing for my classroom other than a few new colored pens (an attempt to at least get into the school spirit). My "school" notebook isn't filled with new ideas or classroom set up plans this year. Instead it's filled with notes from trainings about teaching in the digital world and working with kids from trauma (as I'm sure we're going to find out just how traumatic this experience can be on a seven-year-old). I haven't created a whole lot of digital files, though, until I get trained on the new digital platform our district will be using this school year.

I did fill my teacher planner with a ton of positive notes, survival strategies, and Scripture verses that I scrambled to write while attending a virtual teacher conference geared toward Christian teachers called Teacher, Be Still. God knew how much I'd need that conference to empower me for the year ahead. Since my planner goes everywhere with me during school, I'll have those notes of encouragement whenever I need them. Reminders that my school is the mission field God sent me to and equipped me for seventeen years ago. Reminders that the safest place to be is in the center of God's will.




On the home front, that looks quite different, as well. Instead of family outtings and adventures, we've turned to bike rides, outdoor coffee dates, and Netflix. All. summer. long. We haven't gone on trips, I still refuse to visit with people indoors, and darn it, those dentist appointments just didn't happen (I hate going to the dentist!). I can't say I've gotten anything accomplished in the house because we're just all there all the time, so it's stayed a constant mess most weeks. Juan and I thought about painting the cabinets in the kitchen, but we just never got around to it. Home has rather been our safe haven, and without the "luxury" of being able to freely invite people in, no one on the outside had to see the mess, anyway. Lol.

I've soaked up every minute of time I could/can with David before he leaves for college in just a few weeks (so far, that hasn't changed). Life really won't ever look the same again, and I am sure his absence will hit me hard. I didn't even get any preparation/practice time to let him go (like sending him to camp in Colorado or to Africa for two weeks on a mission trip). I wonder how many bike rides and outdoor coffee/lunch dates I can convince him to go on with me over the next week. :)

It's going to be a whole new way of life ahead in so many ways. No matter how I try to imagine it, it's all still just too surreal to take it all in.

Psalms of lament

When I sat in the live audience at Lake Pointe Church for the taping of Mary DeMuth's Lifeway Bible study, Into the Light, God used the fifth session to speak to my heart.

I considered it a privilege to be part of the audience as my friend and writing mentor spoke through each session, and I looked forward to digging in to the actual study once it came out. But as I sat through Session 5, Mary taught us how to recognize the Psalms of lament and encouraged us to write our own. She explained how David wrote many psalms of lament in the same manner, starting with a lament (or a complaint) toward God, but then remembering God's character and ending each one with hope and a renewed trust in God to redeem.

In that moment, I saw my own collection of nearly 30 years of poems flash across my mind, poems that God helped me write as a therapeutic way of getting through hard times. It hit me that I'd been writing psalms of lament for the last three decades. My poems all start with some kind of deep grief or sadness over something that I struggle to put into words. When I am able to quiet my mind enough to pour out that grief into a poem, I never have any idea where the words will take me. But it almost never fails that once I let the emotion out in the first few lines of the poem, God reminds me that He's still there, He's still working, and it ends with a renewed hope and faith in Him.



"You're going to lead a group of women through this study." I can't say I heard God say that, but I felt it deeply that night.



I couldn't get the thought out of my head, and even when the church building had to close and the Church went virtual, I couldn't let the idea rest. I e-mailed the church and asked if they had ordered the study because I was certain that it was the study I was supposed to lead. (Mind you, I had to make a decision about the study in April--to teach in mid-June--but it wouldn't even release until June 1st. Kind-of a risky decision, giving me very little time to prepare, but I followed through with the prompting anyway.)

So here we are, four solid weeks in, studying together via Zoom, meeting together on our computers every Thursday morning. It's been a tough study, to be honest, forcing you to dig deep and work through some hard stuff with God. It's been eye opening to see some painfully graphic scenarios tucked into Scripture that maybe our Sunday School teachers couldn't present to us with flannelgraph pictures. The Bible stories you didn't hear about as a child, or if you did, you didn't hear all the details about what really happened behind the scenes. But even in the midst of the R-rated material, God still reigned and met the characters in an intimate way. And no matter what unimaginable circumstances are happening in our own lives, God is still God, and He's still making Himself known through them.

Today we got to Session 5, and Mary encouraged us to write our own psalms of lament. I am amazed at how following such a simple exercise can have a profound effect on our grieving process, allowing us to state and feel our grief before releasing it back to God, trusting Him for redemption. I highly encourage you to try it, and then to sit down beside a hurting friend and write one with her, too.

Here is my psalm of lament in this current season that I wrote as an example for our group, followed by the psalm of lament we wrote collaboratively in our study today. May both of them encourage you.

My 2020 psalm of lament
The way we ended the school year deeply saddened me, and the thought of how education has to change because of COVID grieves my heart.God, strengthen me to reach my students powerfully through this awful pandemic.I trust that You are not surprised by what is happening, that this is all part of Your plan to draw more people to You in a deeper, more powerful way.I praise you for the joy that is coming, for the glory that will be revealed after we have suffered and persevered through this trial.You are El Elyon, God Most High. Nothing is beyond Your control.

Our 2020 psalm of lament
As a society and a family of believers, we are deeply grieving connection.Please, Lord, redefine connection for us by bringing divine appointments into our life.We trust that You’re not surprised that our personalities have this need for connection and that You are creating more opportunity to connect with You. We  praise You for the joy that is coming, for the glory that will be revealed after we have suffered and persevered through this trial, and for the deeper way we are going to know You through this season.You are a jealous God and will fight for connection with us because You love us that much. 

7/11

Today's date, 7/11, carries a lot of weight in my home. It's so much more than a day to get a free slushie (actually, I think they aren't doing that this year for COVID reasons). It's a day to remember that God is faithful, that He does indeed finish what He has started. A day to remember that we may make our plans, but God orders our steps--perhaps in a direction we never intended or wanted to go. 

And it represents a long journey from the mountain, to the valley, and back--including so many life lessons along the way. On that trek through the dark, lonely valley, here are a few of the things I learned:


How to grieve and why allowing ourselves to grieve is so importantGod's plan and timing is perfect, even when it hurts like hellPatienceTrustFlexibilitySelf-sacrificeSurrenderTedious time management skillsCompassionOur need to pray, often and without ceasingOur need to develop spiritual enduranceWe are not in controlGod sees a bigger picture than we doGod loves me intimatelyGod sees meGod hears meGod provides for me, in measures more abundant than I can even imagineGod goes to battle for meGod is my strength when I have noneGod loves and cares for the orphan, often through usThe global body of Christ is an international family, meaning as a Christian, I can find family almost anywhere I goGod's economy works far beyond our imaginationTo love the orphan is never in vainThere is purpose in painWhen God speaks, we have no choice but to listen and obeyNothing can thwart God's planKeep your shoes on, ready to go when God says goAn untold story won't heal--our story has a purposeGod comforts us in our trials so that we can pass that comfort on to someone elseI could go on, and on, and on. If you haven't read my books, I encourage you to do so to see just how much God can bring from what we can only see as a tragedy. There's actually even a third book still needing to be written, filled with more intimate love from God than I ever experienced in my life. Perhaps someday I will write the rest of that story down. 
So basically, the gist of today's post is this:
I met a 10 year old boy (and his 6 year old sister) on July 20th, 2008.After a grueling adoption process that left us feeling completely misinterpreted, misunderstood, and helpless, I said goodbye to the boy who already assumed me to be his forever mom on November 6th, 2009--on his 12th birthday. They said once denied, always denied--there'd never be another chance. They cut off all communication between us, for his sake, so he'd be open to attaching to another family in the future.But God.Through three summer trips to Colombia, God expanded our territory, grew our "family" through Christian connections, and redeemed our story.On July 11th, 2013, we finally signed the adoption decree for the son they told us we could no longer try to adopt. With God's divine intervention, we cleared our name and proved our love for our son, less than 4 months from his 16th birthday.
This verse, though a bit out of context, stood out to me today, especially because of it's reference (7:11).

2 Corinthians 7:11
Good News TranslationSee what God did with this sadness of yours: how earnest it has made you, how eager to prove your innocence! Such indignation, such alarm, such feelings, such devotion, such readiness to punish wrongdoing! You have shown yourselves to be without fault in the whole matter.
So here we are today, 7 years later. 
Truthfully, I thought I'd have about four or five years with him before sending him off to college or launching him out into the world. We tried the college thing--and are still working our way back to some form of higher education with him, and we're currently working on life skills he just didn't have the maturity to take on yet when they presented themselves earlier. He's taking baby steps toward independence, and I'm proud of him for how far he's come in seven years. There are days I get frustrated and think he should be so much further along, and then days like today remind me that he's much further than many others who walked his shoes would be. 
Days like today remind me that God has a much bigger plan for my son than I can even imagine. 

Birds and turtles

For the last three years, I've had a deep appreciation for and love of turtles. God used two ponds of turtles two continents apart to show me His tender faithfulness to keep His promise, that He will finish what He has started, slowly and steadily working until all the pieces have fallen into the right places. 
So my heart warmed all over again when my son and I spotted this turtle on one of our bike rides, though we found it hiding in its shell, waiting for a safe chance to cross a busy parking lot. We picked it up and set it back down in the grass, where it took off quickly toward a small stream nearby. 
God has always used nature to speak to my heart.
This spring I've developed a newfound fascination with and appreciation for birds.While sitting on my porch for long periods of time each morning this last spring, I absolutely loved listening to the variety of the songs they sang to me all morning long. Each type of bird carried a different tune, a different chirp, and a different volume. With so many people stuck at home during the shelter-in-place, I saw a greater variety of birds flying around, as well. A particular blue and white bird that I haven't figured out what bird it actually is has been spotted all over my neighborhood, and I'm amazed at the creativity, artistry, and careful attention God gave to every last detail in just one type of bird. I've caught at least one or two visiting me on my porch for a few seconds, and each time I wish it would stay put so I could just observe it more carefully. I've noticed a lot more beautiful red cardinals flying around, as well.
The first few birds that caught my attention in early March made me think of the verse, Matthew 6:26, that states: 
Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?








Such a timely reminder that even in the midst of all the COVID fear crippling the whole earth at once, God used his birds to remind me that He still took care of and protected me.







Then I did a Bible study with a friend during that time called Draw Near, a study that led me to various Scriptures about how God so clearly and boldly speaks to us through the nature all around us, how the skies declare His glory, how the sun continues to rise and set right on schedule, over and over again, how science reveals His incredible attention to every tiny detail and pattern so everything works just right. That study opened my eyes in a new way to everything He created all around me, every tree, every plant, every flower, every insect, every animal, every sunrise and sunset, every full moon, every star and constellation, and yes, every bird. I started taking notice and thanking Him for His creativity, for the way He uses so much color and beauty as an expression of love to me.

We're living in a crazy time right now, thus why it's so important to seek Christ more and more, to seek and be grounded in Truth, and to grab hold of hope. My normal social channels are either filled with hate and shame tactics (mostly over politics) or ways to spread anxiety (thinking we are just spreading awareness re: COVID, masks, scary stories, and now the ever-so-complicated reopening of schools). I read some, I ignore some, I bite my tongue/fingers on some, I like and comment on some, I agree with some, I disagree with some, and I'm angered by a lot. I'm personally on a mission to hold onto hope and to spread hope, because no matter what, hope isn't cancelled.


A simple turtle and hundreds of birds reminded me of that. Look around you. What parts of nature is God using to speak to you? If you focus on looking for treasures, you'll find them. If you focus on looking for trash, you'll find that, too. It's all a matter of what we choose to see.