Antsy

I am starting to get antsy.  Why haven't we heard anything from RUF yet?

This summer, Andrew and I got approved to do RUF, the university campus ministry of the PCA.  During our final assessment meeting, we were given the stamp of approval, but we were also told not to put all our eggs in one basket.  They told us that they would be evaluating what campuses would need ministers, but that we would need to wait patiently during the process.

Well...we have been waiting...since July....

We are excited about the future.  Moving to a new place feels like an adventure.  Andrew and I both are looking forward to being "the Shanks" somewhere new.  Not just Andrew and Trish, still with our separate sets of social circles and obligations, like we are here.  We can't wait to have a new home with space in the backyard for a garden and maybe some chickens.  We are excited about having college kids in our home for Bible study and Wednesday night dinners.

But we haven't heard anything.  Not a peep.

I am getting antsy.  Not anxious antsy.  Excited antsy.  Can't wait to know where are going antsy.

Just the other week I was looking out my classroom window, thinking about the future, and admiring the bright red tree that sits close by. There was a little bluebird sitting on the end of a branch, looking out to the sky.  It hopped around on the branches.  It played with another bird.  It was beautiful.  It made my heart happy.  As it flew away my mind was filled with a gentle reminder:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? - Matthew 6: 25-27

Uh oh!  Maybe I am not just antsy, maybe I am worried.  Busted!

My worry was uncovered a few days later as Andrew and I were on a walk.  As we talked RUF and the future, he mentioned how we would have to move in June to wherever we might be called.  What?  That soon?   I panicked.  My heart and my mind began to race.  My true feelings about the future bubbled to the surface.  We don't have very much money saved.  We will have not had time to raise all the money we will need.  What if there is a little Shank on the way?  What if we don't like where we are going?  What if they don't like us? What if, what if, what if?

Matthew 6...don't worry, your Father knows...

Maybe I am antsy because if I knew where we were going I could start looking for that house that has room for chickens and college kids.  And we could start looking for our new church where we could be "the Shanks."  If I knew where we were going I could at least start dreaming about it and planning for it.

Look at the birds...

Maybe it is a grace that we do not know yet.  If I knew, perhaps my mind and my heart would begin to move on from Charlotte, from my friends, from our church, from my job.  Maybe not knowing is a gift that allows me to continue being present here, to keep teaching, to keep investing, to keep living.

I don't want to check out mentally and fail to live fully in every moment of my last year of teaching at SouthLake- my students deserve better, my colleagues deserve better, the Lord deserves better.  I don't want to spoil sweet times with friends because my gaze has moved from them to the future- These moments with them cannot be regained.  I don't want my heart to move on, forgetting what is in front of me- There is so much now to be had.

I don't want to miss the now.  I will keep looking at the birds.

Small Victories

Today, I said "No."

But I didn't say "no" at first.  Some students asked me to sponsor the Spanish Club.  I know that it would be great to have a Spanish Club, and I have some ideas for it, and they need a sponsor and, and, and.............and I said "yes."

I didn't want to say "yes."  But I couldn't help myself.  What if I let them down?  What if they were disappointed?  What if no one else would do it?  What if I was missing an opportunity? 

Andrew and I talked about my dilemma and my addiction to saying "yes."   We talked about how I already have good things to give my time and energy to- teaching new classes and coaching cross country.  How God is big enough to provide someone else.  How I am not infinite or limitless.  He reminded me that sometimes you have to say "no" to good things.  He coached me through it, he gave me words to say, he encouraged me that it was okay.

Today was a little victory.

Today I said, "No."

Remedy for my grumbling heart

Year number 11 of teaching has begun, and I find my will kicking and screaming, not wanting to submit again to the disciplines of being a good teacher: wrestling with content and ideas, studying, carefully crafting lesson plans, communicating with parents, getting to know students, collaborating with fellow teachers.  I feel discouraged at my lack of enthusiasm and vision for the year.  I feel sluggish and weary.  Inside I am complaining and grumbling and telling myself that I am ready to be finished teaching.

But then, in the midst of my unsettled, grumbling heart comes the reminder that this is what I am called to.  This is what God has gifted me to do.  It is what he has put in front of me to do right now.  No one said it wouldn't cost anything to be a teacher.  No one said it wouldn't cost anything to follow Christ.

This year, the call of Christ rings loudly in my heart and mind, calling me to lay down my life and my will to follow him and feed his sheep.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

The call feels impossible, and in indeed it is, but our Savior has already gone before us.  He has laid down his life, doing what was necessary to redeem a people to himself.  He gave freely, without grumbling.  I don't have to save my own life. I can give freely to my students knowing that Christ himself holds my life in his hand.  

 As I read through the "Getting to know you" sheets each of my students filled out on the first day of school, I discover that many have written that they rarely or never go to church.  And now the battle inside me to do the work of a teacher seems to take on new meaning and seriousness.  The battle is not just to teach them a foreign language, but to teach them about the Creator of Language, the Living Word of God.  This is a spiritual battle, one that can not be won by human wisdom or power, but only with God's help.  

Please pray for me.  Pray for all believers who teach in both public and Christian schools.  Pray for our students.

First and last

Today was the first day of my (maybe) last year of teaching (at least for a while).  Of course my plans may be different than God's plans, but I am hopeful!

It was hard to go back after summer vacation.  I felt a little like a retired basketball player trying to make a comeback- rusty, creaky, and out of practice!  My brain felt scattered and distracted. Routines perfected last year were forgotten.   Plans felt elusive.

Meh.

Well, ready or not, here we go!

A time for roots

Not all times are growing up and out times or fruiting times.  Sometimes are rooting times.  Times to dig deep and drink in the nutrients.  Time in secret where no one else can see.  Times in the interior.

Today I lopped off the tops of my irises.  It was hard to do, but necessary.  The blades were wilting, laying on the ground.  Why?  Because I moved them, tearing up their root systems.  Then, the roots weren't strong enough to support the tops, so they wilted, flopped over, pitiful.  I went online and searched for answers: cut off the tops, it said, so the roots can grow without having to waste energy on the leaf fans and flowers.

Two more weeks until school starts.  I need to lop of my branches, stop producing, and just dig deep and drink deeply.

A better rest

Summer is winding down and I am getting a sinky feeling in my stomach.  Where did the time go?  How did the summer get away from me so quickly?  Why is the list of summer to-dos still basically untouched?  I envision little Trish, with hands pressed forward trying stop the speeding train that is time. 

In just two weeks the kids will fill up the halls again.  Homework will be assigned.  Quizzes will be given.  Audible groans will be heard.  Students will look longingly out of classroom windows thinking about anything and everything but math and Spanish and literature.

I'm not ready!

Maybe summer is different when you are an adult.  Maybe I don't feel like I've had a summer break because I didn't experience a child-like summer.  A summer where days are long and clocks tick slowly.  There is no sense of time slipping by, no reason to wear a watch.  Just endless days and books to read, pools to swim in, friends to see.

As I mourn my lost summer and continue to long for rest, I am reminded of a better rest, a summer rest that will not end.  "So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God..."

 The term is over:  the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended:  this is the morning.” And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them.  And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after.  But for them it was only the beginning of the real story.  All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page:  now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read:  which goes on forever:  in which every chapter is better than the one before.” The Last Battle, CS Lewis

Good wine

Jesus performed his first miracle at a wedding at Cana in Galilee.  Two years ago, I was beginning to wonder if Jesus could perform a wedding miracle for me.

The parade of gentleman that had come in and out of my life had brought a lot of longing and hope and disappointment. But none of them was "the one."  They didn't like me.  Or I didn't like them, but couldn't let go, fearing that there would never be anyone else.  The dating rollercoaster was not much fun and it felt endless.  Hope, sad, hope, sad, Hoooooope, disappointment, sad.....hope? 

In the fall of 2011, I read about Jesus and the wedding at Cana.  In the middle of the wedding festivities the wine ran out.  When Jesus learned this, he told the servants to get six stone water jars and to fill them with water.

Just water.

That's what my best efforts felt like: water.

Just water.

I couldn't make marriage happen.  That's all I could offer: water.

I had tried everything to find the right man to marry- praying, meeting new people, dressing nice, going on lots of dates, being open and friendly.  Nada.

Just water.

I tried to talk myself into marrying a man that I only liked as a friend- "No one promised fireworks.  There are arranged marriages every day. Why not just settle?  You can grow to love him.  You can make this work."

Just water.

Trying to make a guy like me or make myself like him, was like trying to turn water in to wine...impossible.

Just water.

Back to Cana.  Once the stone jars had been filled to the brim with water, some was drawn out and taken to the master of the banquet-

When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now. John 2: 9-10

Jesus turned the water into wine.  Not just any wine, the BEST wine.

That's what I felt He wanted for me- the best wine. He wanted to bring wine to my wedding!  Wine, a symbol of joy and gladness and blessing.  Wine, a sign of abundance and fruitfulness.  I could wait and trust in Him to bring the right husband for me.  A good husband.  A godly husband.  A husband that I didn't have to talk myself into marrying.  The right husband.  Good wine.

And though I knew that it might be God's plan for me to remain single, I found my heart confessing: God, even if you never bring me a husband here on this earth, I know there is a much better wedding that awaits me, that awaits all who trust in Christ. One day there will be a wedding and a feast and  our true husband will celebrate the homecoming of his beautiful, spotless Bride.

I am thankful that Jesus performed the miracle of a wedding in Charlotte, North Carolina on September 29, 2012, bringing good wine and joy and gladness and blessing into my life.

And I look forward to the day when He will perform another miracle, a forever miracle, finally bringing His Bride home to the place that He has prepared for us.

You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound.  Psalm 4:7

For your love is better than wine.  Song of Solomon 1:2

I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”  Matthew 26:29

 Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,

“Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
    the Almighty reigns.
Let us rejoice and exult
    and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
    and his Bride has made herself ready;
it was granted her to clothe herself
    with fine linen, bright and pure”—

for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.”  Revelation 19:6-9


Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Finally!

I am so thankful that this man has come into my life.  I waited a long time :)

Someone asked recently if the thought of being a pastor's wife was something that made me feel scared.  It made me a recall a conversation that Andrew and I had very early on while we were dating, in which he told me three things: 1) He feels called to ministry, 2) he will most likely leave Charlotte after seminary, and 3) he will have to fund raise.  Instead of feeling nervous about these three things, my heart cried out, "Finally!"

Finally, a man who knows his own calling and purpose.  Finally, a man who to whom I can be a helper.  Finally. 

And, finally, a man who is as dorky as I am :)

Enough

This spring our Sunday school class was studying the Gospel of John. As we read through John 17, which is the record of Jesus' prayer for his disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane, I felt a prick of hope followed by conviction followed by hope again. 

"Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth." - John 17:17

First, Hope:   Jesus is praying that God would sanctify all believers-That he would make them whole and holy.  If Jesus is praying, of course His Father will answer!  This is a prayer that will happen.  We can count on it.  My Father will free me from all the sin and brokenness that entangles: selfishness, insecurity, lack of trust, pride, anger, anxiety, worry. And He will make me more like His Son: patient, kind, loving, gentle, faithful, wise.

Then came conviction:  When I see sin or brokenness in my life, I tend to give myself a diagnosis: "selfish," and then, forgetting about the words of life and instruction given in God's word, I hunt for some other book that will cure me.  I run to man's words and thoughts and solutions.  I especially run to counseling books for things I am afraid of or think I will fail at: How to have a great marriage, How to raise children, How to overcome anxiety, how to be a good wife, how to _________.

And then came hope again: The answer to all my how-to questions is within Jesus' prayer: "Sanctify them by the truth, YOUR WORD is TRUTH."  God's word is the answer and His word is enough!

All Scripture is God breathed.  It is useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking and training in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16).

God's word is living and active, sharper than any double-edge sword.  It lays bear the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4:12).

The Word of God will accomplish what the Lord purposes and desires (Isaiah 55:11).

It is able to make us wise unto salvation through faith in Christ (2 Timothy 3:15).  

When we do the word, we find liberty (James 1:22-25).

Meditating on God's word makes us like a tree planted by streams of water, whose leaf does not whither, who bears fruit in season (Psalm 1).

The Word of God is enough! 
 
God's word can....

Call me to repentance when I am selfish and point me to the forgiveness and grace available to those who confess their sin (1 John 1:9)

Show me how to grow in Christ by staying connected to the vine (John 15:5)

Teach me to know how to love as Christ loved (John 13:34, John 15:13)

Give me wisdom to raise children by training them up in the ways of the Lord (Prov. 22:6)

Give me faith to believe that my past is not my future and that God's plans are for my good (Romans 8:28-30)

Give peace when anxiety threatens to undo me by teaching me to cast all my anxieties on HIM because HE cares for me (Phil. 4:4-9, 1 Peter 1:7)

Point me to Christ, the author and perfecter of my faith, the one who gives everything I need for life and godliness (Heb. 12:1-2, 2 Peter 1:3) 

The Word of God is enough!    

Many have found Jesus' words difficult.  After one particularly hard teaching many who had once followed Christ began to desert Him.  Jesus turned to his disciples and asked, "You do not want to go away also, do you?" My heart answers with Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life.<sup>"

We do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from God's mouth (Matthew 4:4)</sup> 

Lessons of the garden

I am a novice gardener.  My very first garden was made up of tomatoes, cucumbers, and green beans planted in a little 3x6 raised bed in the backyard.

Actual gardening seemed easy enough: insert seed, add water, watch grow...right?  Not being a fan of reading directions, or following them, even if I do happen to read them,  I took no notice of the label on the seed package that explained how far apart to space each seed.  Obviously, if you want more vegetables then you should plant more seeds.  Who cares if you have a small garden plot?!  Pack 'em in closer!

My mind was filled visions of the little 3x6 garden producing pounds of tomatoes, beans and cucumbers, perhaps even enough to build a little roadside stand to sell them to neighbors.  Instead of pounds of tomatoes,  there were just some scraggly plants that produced only a fistful of green beans and 2 pitiful tomatoes.

And I learned a lesson.  Plants need space to grow.  They need room to spread out their stems.  They need plenty of soil to not have to compete with other plants for nutrients.  More plants does necessarily not mean more vegetables. 

I think I've been trying this same approach in life: More activity equals more fruitfulness.  Cram in activity after "important" activity.  Every need feels like a call to action and participation.  Every invitation is returned with a "yes."  Every spare moment or empty space of time must be filled in.

But in the end, I am exhausted and wondering where the fruit is. Yeah, there's a couple of green beans and a little tomato or two, but not much worth eating.  If my life is a 3x6 garden, everything is packed in a little too close.

As school winds up this year, I am exhausted and overwhelmed and trying to learn the lessons of the garden.  My life is small and I am only one person.  I want to live a fruitful life for Christ, but perhaps I have thought about it incorrectly.  In this fast-paced culture, where importance and success is measured in numbers and results, slowing down and focusing on just a few things can be guilt-inducing-"Why aren't you doing more?"

But what if real fruitfulness is found in less and not more? Or maybe less and more.  Less frantic activity and more letting the roots run deep and fully being in those few areas where I choose to sow my life.

So little by little, I am plucking up the extra plants crammed into my life.  It is difficult to decide which ones to keep and which to discard.  But even as I do, I begin to see the ones that are left begin to spread out their leaves and fill into the newly cleared space.  And out in the backyard our garden is also growing, with perfectly spaced plants reaching out and up and little tomatoes ripening on the vine.

Tomatoes!  Thanks to my husband who actually reads directions about spacing
and is helping me make space in my life :)

The hardest part of teaching

The hardest part of teaching is not...
the mountain of papers to grade
or
the time and stress of planning the perfect lessons
or
the pressure of administration, parents, and students all expecting you to perform perfectly
or
the doubt that clouds your mind while trying to discipline and train students to be responsible
or
the insecurity that floods as you think about what students might think about you
or 
trying to help your students understand complicated ideas
or
the frustration of knowing sometimes you just can't get through to them.

The hardest part of teaching is saying goodbye...
to students you love
students who make you laugh
students who have filled the halls with laughter and loud voices and all kinds of shenanigans
students who have popped in to say hello or ask for help or tell you a story
students who have shared life with you, shared tears, shared meals, shared dreams
students who have changed you as you have hoped to change them
students who have written sweet notes of thanks
students who have brought you a piece of chocolate because they know you like it
students who are quirky and smart and unique and fun and nerdy and artsy
students who check in when you seem sad
students whose parents love you
students you share memories with
students you have prayed for and hoped with
students you have seen happy and sad
students whose faces light up when they see you

Yes, saying goodbye is the hardest part. 

Busy

Busy, busy, busy
spin, spin, spin
put another coin in
watch her turn again, then
all this frantic racing
never thinking, pacing
how to get there fastest
never finish last, best

Rushing, sprinting, flying
run, run, run
cannot take a break, yet
no thing left undone, none
heart inside is shrinking
no room for feeling, thinking
A robot's all that's left here
There's no time for tears, dear.

Bring 'em back!

I have a confession: I get a little nostalgic thinking about the Charlotte Hornets.  The Hornets were MY team.  They were my parent's team.  They were every Charlottean's team. 

We remember Hugo the Hornet and holding our breath as Super Hugo attempted his flying flip dunks.  We remember Grandmama and the incredibly quick Mugsy Bogues.  We proudly displayed our teal and purple.  We loved the Charlotte Coliseum, electric with energy as all of the BEE-lievers cheered on the Bugs.

Rumor is that the Hornets are coming back to the QC.  We've been waiting!  So, come home Hugo!

** Another confession: I used to collect basketball cards. ; )  A little strange for a 10 year-old girl....

Intimidated

I find that I am a little intimidated at the thought of blogging right now.  I happen to be married to a really intelligent, logically-minded, theologian of a man whose dearest mum is a great grammarian and writer.  I am intimidated, very intimidated!

What if my blog is not logical or well thought-out or correctly punctuated?  What if I write something that could possibly be heretical?  What if I am not heretical or ungrammatical, but just a bad writer in general?  They would definitely know!

But I have to write.  There are too many thoughts flying around in my head.  They need somewhere to go.   So here we go!  Back to blogging and back to potential grammatical and theological heresy.

Food For Thought

I thought about changing the name of my blog to "Food for Thought,"  which would have absolutely nothing to do with real food and everything to do with the thoughts my mind is chewing on.

Hopefully my mind is chewing on truth. I once heard a guy say that truth is the mind's food.  I think he is right.  As my mind chews on the truth and deposits it into my heart, I find that I am changed, I am different, I am growing.

I need truth.

I want to be a truth eater.  Man does not live on bread alone, after all.

Longing and old furniture

I don't understand it.  What is the ache, the longing I feel when I see old furniture?

This past week I found myself winding through the furniture department of the Salvation Army.  My finger trailed along the arms of various chairs.  Old dresser drawers were pulled open and inspected.  Tables and chairs were transported into the dining room in my imagination.

Then, unexpectedly, my heart began to ache.  I found myself longing for family and for home: husband and children around a big old farm table, house cozy and welcoming, a garden colorful with fresh fruits and vegetables.  I ached for history and connectedness to the past: family traditions passed down, the smell of grandmother's old furniture, stories of ancestors from distant lands.  Then I longed for old things to be made new: old dressers painted in fresh colors, discarded picture frames rescued and re-purposed, Victorian silver platters polished and proudly displayed.

Perhaps this ache is for something yet to come.

In Christ-  We have a family and a home, and one day we will all feast with our King.  We have a glorious history connected to all the faithful saints who have gone before us.  And we have the promise of everything old being remade and renewed.

⁷ Let us rejoice and exult
    and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
    and his Bride has made herself ready;
⁸ it was granted her to clothe herself
    with fine linen, bright and pure”—

for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

⁹ And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.”  Rev. 19:7-10

The bucket (again)

I am needing to re-remind myself that there is an end to me:  I can only handle so much, do so much, be in so many places at once, and that is okay.  And after I am done with that "so much," rest is good and necessary.

Today after school I plopped down, exhausted, for my daily nap.  As soon as the covers were pulled up, the guilt began to pile on.  Slanderous, unkind accusations of laziness and sloth filled my head: "Shouldn't you be grading?  Shouldn't you be more productive?  Why are you such a bum?"

As I talked to my mom later in the evening and began to describe these thoughts, tears filled my eyes.  I believe the accusations in my mind.  In fact, I let them bully and coerce me into to taking on more responsibilities and activities.  Then my mom kindly reminded me about the bucket...the little bucket that can only handle as much water as a little bucket is made for.  Thanks, mom, for reminding me (again) that you can't fit 10 gallons of water in a 5 gallon bucket.

The Bucket
A five gallon bucket
is all that I am
though I shove and I push
trying always to cram
more and more in my life
than can actually fit
til the bucket's too full
and starting to split

A small trickle begins
just droplets at first
til the bucket is bulging
and ready to burst
at the seams though it seems
it can hold it all in
but this bucket is made
for five gallons not ten.

2012 Books

Well, this is sad!  My 2012 book list was very short. Here's hoping that 2013 will be better!!
12. The Lost Hero- Rick Riordan
11. A Praying Life- Paul Miller
10. Ink Heart- Cornelia Funke
9. Holes-Louis Sachar
8. To Kill a Mockingbird- Harper Lee
7. Monster in the Hollows- Andrew Peterson
6. The Mother Tongue- Bill Bryson
5. North! Or Be Eaten- Andrew Peterson
4. On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness- Andrew Peterson
3. Your Money Counts- Howard Dayton
2. The Meaning of Marriage- Tim Keller
1. The Gifts of the Child Christ and Other Stories and Fairy Tales- George MacDonald (read some, but not all of his short stories)

I think I need to include that I read A LOT of Spanish poetry this summer as well: Neruda, Bécquer, Martí, Darío, Storni and others :)