Heading down the only road our summers know
Like a Body [of Christ] we were meant to walk along [side kiddos]
And we've made up our minds
This ain't no waste of time
I'm feeling so clever right now because I made that up. I know, it's hard to believe that it's made up especially with that stellar second line. It's harder to believe that I had to google the lyrics to know what they really say. (I'm lyrically and musically challenged. Remind me to tell you about this later.) Don't judge/falsify the subject line in thinking that technically, if your guess of our going to camp is right, we won't be on our own but will be with all the lovely teens. The thing is that we didn't leave with the other kiddos this morning but are leaving tomorrow instead. So if we're speaking technically, then we (hubs and me) will be on our own. Really, who am I kidding? WHO CARES?
With the oh-so-clever parody and justification paragraph that followed, I just wanted to share that we're off to camp but with middle schoolers this time. The scenery will be different (lake instead of beach) and the kids younger, but the God part is still the same. So this week, any time you think of your middle school years and your too-large bangs, say a prayer for us. We'll need them; it's hot out there. If you don't believe me, go read everyone's status on Facebook. They're determined to remind you in case the sweat running down your back as soon as you walk out of the door wasn't enough.
P.S. The tracker of traffic that is located to your left and down the page has totally amazed me. Someone in Michigan read my blog yesterday. I'm not even sure of the capital of MI (or the correct abbreviation because I just looked this up), and I definitely don't know anyone there. Wait, maybe one of my five readers is vacationing there. This thought just came to me and made me a tad less excited. So if it was you visiting there, don't tell me and let me think that I'm becoming famous like Pioneer Woman. Probably not.
See you in the bloggy world next week!
Reasons why it happens so fast:
- There's somebody asleep in my bed everyday past 7 am (sometimes 8, 9, or 10 am), and it's almost always yours truly.
- My bed actually gets made. For about nine months, my duvet is more like carpet as it rests on its home--the floor.
- Going to the gym at 9:30 pm or am is not even a question. Just put on the sneakers and go!
- Reading by the pool is an option with no guilt as to what I should be doing.
- A constantly clean home.
- Doing laundry at whatever pace that I would like. Why? Because I can do it all day!
- Spendin' time with Jesus for any length of time with no rush to go get ready.
- Staying in pajamas all day long.
- Being able to have dinner AND lunch with friends and the hubs on a week day. And if lunch ends up lasting 2 hours and 40 minutes, no biggie.
- Using the restroom whenever I feel like it and not having to hold it. (I know, TMI.)
- Having room in my brain for anything else other than middle schoolers and English.
- And the common theme amongst all of these: TIME. I have it. Lots of it. It's glorious.
Dear Summer,
You are now my very best friend. Ever. You have given my brain all kinds of new freedom that it had forgotten that it had. You allow me the time to do whatever needs to be done. Overall, you just make me happy. And the icing on the cake (drum roll, please) is that the cash (though little it may be) is still flowing to my bank account while I bask in your rays. We're BFF, and I just want you to know this.
Hannah
To fold or not to fold? And other questions brought on by marriage.
2 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 11:56 AM
These are our bathroom hand towels. They are housed on this classy, silver towel rack as given by The Lodge. In the first version, you will see how I prefer for them to hang. In the second picture, you will see how the hubs prefers for them to hang. Who cares, right? Well, this is one intriguing things about marriage that I have found. Who's preference wins? There are some things from one's own raisin' that are just assumed that everyone does, like be able to dry one's hands while keeping the towels folded. As they should be folded. However, once one enters into marriage, one realizes that said things from old are not always spouses ways of old. The question then arises: Who wins?
No one (or maybe everyone) because daily the towels could be found in either manner at any point in the day. If this could be secretly video recorded, you would see hubs drying his hands and unfolding, and then you would see me shortly after coming to put them back in their rightful folded position.
Rightful, of course, is a relative term in this case.
Those two words describe these girls in a nutshell, if you couldn't tell from the pictures! They are the cutest little girls that I've ever seen, and they filled our teeny apartment with so much fun and girliness for six days. When I came home after returning them to their mom (my sister), my heart hurt a little at how quiet it was. They wore me out and caused me to exercise all my girly entertaining measures. I also exercised my ability to please a little girl in picking out an outfit and fixing hair. Girls are A LOT of work, and it begins at a very early age. There's just so much to think about when it comes to their appearance alone. Matching bows, matching barrettes, matching rubber bands, matching swimsuit coverups, ponytails, side ponytails, half ponytails, shoes, flip flops, dresses, leggings, and the list could just go on because their suitcase was filled with all of these items plus! They're sassy like that.
One of my favorite events of the week happened while I was getting ready on Wednesday, and they were in the living room watching "Hotel for Dogs" for probably the third time since in our home that is cable-less, it's all they had. Ella, who will be four on June 27, is playing, and while she plays, she constantly talks to herself. It's pretty hilarious because it generally involves her pretending that she is a momma or someone famous. This particular time, she chose Hannah Montana. Klaudia chimes in and says that she will be Hannah Montana, too. Ella obviously doesn't like this idea because that's not how this game is played. If she's Hannah Montana, there will be no other. So from the bathroom, this is what I hear: "No, I Hannah Montana. You not Hannah Montana cause I Hannah Montana." "Ella, then I will be Miley Cyrus." "No, I Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus. You not be Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana." "Ok, then I will be big Hannah Montana and you be little Hannah Montana." Apparently that worked better than all the other options given.
This is ultimately my favorite part of the week. Sunday morning we were in the car and some how started talking about the Bible and why it's important. Then Klaudia went on to tell me what she knows from the Bible. I started asking her several questions about Jesus, sin, and heaven. We basically went through the basics of the gospel: we sin, as in lie and do things against God, so He sent Jesus to die for us and save us from these sins. If we accept this and ask for forgiveness, then we get to go to heaven. She then asked me what happens if we don't go to heaven. I told her that we would go to hell, and then we talked about why that would be so bad. On Monday night, I was reading to them from a little toddler-type Bible. When we finished, I asked Klaudia if she remembered all that we had talked about on Sunday about Jesus, and she kind of quoted back to me what we had discussed. I reminded her that Jesus loved her, but He wants her to ask Him to be her savior so that she can spend forever with Him. She asked me when she would do that, like when she was old or something. I told her she would do that when she felt like she was ready. It was just the sweetest conversation and just such a reminder of how simple the gospel is that even a child can understand it. What a sweet day it will be when she asks Jesus to be her Savior and many prayers will be answered!
Sweet Uncle Cameron was quite the apple of their eye during the time that he was home! Actually, he has been the apple of Ella's eye for a while now. So much so that every time I talk to her, her first words are "Where's Camrin?" Love it!
Uncle Cameron started the silly faces that follow but would not perform for the camera.
They were more than willing to show their stuff.
We filled several hours of our time in the swimming pool. Three different swimming pools to be exact. Sweet Bennett and Hayes joined us for swimming one of these days. Both the boys had two extra mothers during their stint with the girls. They didn't seem too bothered!
I love these girls, a lot! They took a lot of our energy and time, but we'll take them for a visit any time. We'll just need a few days to rest afterwards!
Anyway, this lady with white-ish/grey-ish hair comes up to the hostess and asks to see the manager. She didn't seem perturbed, so I just assumed she had something good to say or a question to ask him. Don't be fooled by that white-ish/grey-ish hair. When the manager (poor guy) arrived, she proceeded with this conversation:
Manager: How can I help you?
Lady: (Holding receipt and in a snooty kind of voice) Well, I ordered corn on the cob with my meal, and when the first one came out, it was obvious that it had been leftover from the lunch service. I asked my waiter to get me another one. The second one that he brought back was just about the same. So I knew better than to ask again but told him that I just wanted to be compensated for it. My whole meal was not good because of this. (Holding up receipt to show him) He only gave me $2.44 off my check. And if this is how you treat your Chili's customers, I would be ashamed. Shame on you if all you can compensate is $2.44 for a ruined meal. My meal was ruined because of this.
Manager: I'm sorry, Ma'am. Since you've already paid, if you'll wait we will compensate you in another way. (I was hoping it was going to be a swift kick in the behind out the door.)
What does he do, you ask? He brings her a Chili's gift card in an amount that I'm not sure of, but I'm certain that it was more than $2.44. While she was waiting, Cameron and I, being the only other people in this area, had the most disgusted looks. She looked right at us and kind of shrugged her shoulders and smirked like she had just done this poor manager a service.
Here are my thoughts on this issue: If you're expecting the highest quality of corn on the cob, don't come to Chili's. Make it yourself from home with the Intensely Sweet kind from H-E-B. If someone compensates you $2.44 for corn on the cob, be grateful that you got anything and then go buy said kind from H-E-B that is located directly behind Chili's. If you're going to complain to the manager just to get a gift card, find something worth complaining about besides corn on the cob.
The greatest part of this story and saddest part of this story is that we're almost certain that this lady goes to our church. We gasped with horror as she said her name to him while he shook her hand and realized that this was the mother of the kid from our student ministry that had walked by and greeted/justified why he hadn't been to church in a while.
This was how this Chili's experience began, and it ended with our waitress being completely annoyed with the amount of people at our table and a random, large man in an eighties-type, fringe-laden, leather jacket handing out Pixy sticks to all the wait staff. Both of these are proof as to why you shouldn't complain about corn on the cob to the manager. Unless, of course, you want your next meal to be free.
WARNING: This could be dangerous to your [spiritual] health.
0 comments Posted by Lilies of the Field at 3:02 PM
I have worshipped with my lips and so many days that was where my worship ended. I began begging Him at camp (I often pridefully think that camp is just for the students) to pick me up and shake me around this summer because I was sick of the me-ness that had consumed my life for the past _____ months. There was no one but me that was more important to me. I use past tense verbs in that sentence only because I am determined that with His grace, we can make this a past tense action.
This is where He chose to start. Be very careful in listening because you are guaranteed to be convicted. The kind of conviction that causes your stomach to ache a little and your eyes to be water-filled and your brain to not be able to get it out of your mind for what's going on a week. At least that's what happened to me. It was also the kind of conviction that I like because with it comes something new, a new journey, a large section of pruning that will hopefully produce something so much more beautiful--not on the outside by any means, all on the inside.
"It's a good thing, till it becomes a God thing, and then it's a bad thing." Because I have replayed those words and many others in my mind since this recent pruning session, I've decided that I need to confess it on up and let you, World, know my idols.
Idol #1: My appearance. As I listened to this Word preached, I knew instantly that this ranked number one. What I wear and what I look like have, on more occasions than I really want to allow myself to admit, become God things and, therefore, bad things. I could give you so many more details on this and the all-consuming thoughts that go along with it, but I will spare you and let Him have that. As if I have an option not to let Him.
Idol#2: What others think. Though I know that this is a constant, annoying sin of mine, I don't suppose I thought of it as an idol until He whispered it to me. This too consumes more of my thoughts than are actually countable, but it also so often affects my actions. It's sickening, really, how often I allow what someone will think of me to change me. On the spot. With no second thought. Idol.
I don't need for Elijah to prove to me that they are false. I know it. I live it. I have seen the way my heart has chosen to be "fulfilled" by them only to be left completely empty. So I will just repent, take my thoughts captive, and make Him my idol. Of course, the summer will need to be replaced with my life time because I'm certain that this is how long it will take. Then after that, He truly will be my idol, only tangible.
I have bittersweet feelings towards camp.
Bitter part: I've always been a fairly shy person, and it takes me a while to warm up to certain situations. Once that time period is over, I usually do fine, but every year I get these little butterflies in my tummy around the end of May because I know that a summer full of personality-stretching is headed my way.
My personality does not explode with excitement at the outgoing-ness that is required for any camp-leading experience. It pretty much boils down to being able to scream your throat sore, make up creative cheers, make sure all students are involved, and pretend like you are more excited to do this than anything else in order to do your team well. It's just not me. I HATE being the center of attention.
[Insert side note: This is ironic for a few reasons. One, I'm a teacher. Two, my husband is at his best when he's got the crowd looking his way. Three, my husband is a student pastor which means in some regard or another, we are very likely to be the center of attention a lot. For the rest of our lives. Shudder.]
And besides all of this, I'm not competitive enough to care, but I am competitive enough to want to be the best. Make sense? It doesn't to me either, but it's a strange quark of mine from childhood. I only participated if I was sure that I was going to be one of the best at whatever I was doing. Needless to say, I missed out on a lot. A lot. Anyway, all of this, of course, is only for about two hours of every day, but it's just that stressful that I felt compelled to share this deepest, darkest secret with you. Now that I have that out, I can really tell you about camp and much of the sweetness that nullifies the bitterness.
First, we get on a bus, I mean six buses, with around fifty-plus, excited and ecstatic teens hoping and praying that the fact that it's the night will cause them to sleep. Please sleep.
They slept. We made it. Then we meet our teams. In this case, they are named so cleverly for a villain or a hero. As mentioned before, this is where my anxiety begins. Cheer, will you please come to me or them quickly and cleverly so that when we perform in front of the 400+ peeps, we don't look like fools? Please.
"B to the A to the T to the MAN. BATMAN." That was one part of it. Clever? Maybe. Possibly. Not likely. The most important part of this is for all to know that we may or may not have won one game (as shown in this picture after winning volleyball) out of twelve and placed twenty fourth out of twenty-four teams. The next most important part for you to know, World, is that we still had a complete blast with each other. Win, lose, or tie. Cheer, no cheer, or complete silence. It was the fun that matters most!
And now for the things that most people stop doing once they leave high school/college. For us, however, the fun continues. 25 going on 16, at least for a couple of weeks a year.
Dressing up with the bling and rockin' it with Grits.
Yes, it is what one would think, a fake tattoo on my back. Why? Everyone else was doing it.
Husband's tat. Sweet.
And in our week full of loss of age recognition, we'll possibly be caught enjoying this.
I just like this picture. Here they are, all 400 students, waiting to get into worship services.
The anxiety is lost and forgotten at the sight of this: students completely surrendered in worship to the One who is worthy of our worship. It has the ability to stop you in your tracks. And it did.
And then there's this moment. The moment where students desire at this very second in time to choose Him above everything that they have placed their name on in their life up until this point. It's this very moment when a year worth of distraction from my central focus for our life in ministry is redefined because not just one, though that would've been plenty, but eleven WCE students, and around forty more from other campuses, decide that being obedient to Him is a choice worth making. These kids deal with some crazy stuff, stuff that no kid should ever deal with, but this week, they decided that even in the midst of crazy stuff, Christ is the real deal. It was life change, and it makes everything else completely worth it.
I love these kids, but more than them, I love this man. He loves them and desires for them to know Christ no matter the cost to him--sleep, time, text messages at all hours. It's a calling, and the longer I live with him and love him, it becomes clearer just how much the Lord has equipped him for this job. I sat in the crowd one morning this week and listened to him teach these kids with a passion that has done nothing but increase from the day that I met him. I'm just so proud of him.
So the relaxing part is kind of an exaggeration. Ok, it IS an exaggeration. I'll actually be at camp with around 400 teenagers. There in lies the reason it's an exaggeration. Blast, yes. Relaxing, no. It's pretty much jam-packed days that include everything from searching for bobbers to making sand castles to worshipping my Jesus. All really great things, the last being my favorite. So if any of these items come to your mind and remind you of me (because I know you think of bobbers often), then say a quick prayer.
We will take all that we can get.
I don't want a pity party, and I'm not asking for any sympathy. It's just the truth of the matter that I want to share.
Unless you have spent time in a classroom and had the responsibilty of keeping up with the well-being of 20, 30, or 115 students, you are likely unaware of all that goes into the teaching profession. And substituting isn't even in the same ballpark. When I graduated from college with a mind full of fluff in regards to what really goes on, my dreams of completely changing the world "one student at a time" were quickly distorted.
My first full year of teaching can be summed up in one simple/awful word: NIGHTMARE! Yes, all throughout college, I had heard of such horror stories, but I mainly didn't believe them because, like I said, I had been brainwashed to believe that all I will really have to do is teach. It wasn't true. I had to figure out what to teach. I had to teach myself what I was teaching. I had to discipline and earn respect even though many of them had very little background experience with that word in that school. I had to grade what I had taught and access what they knew or didn't know. I had to sort through mounds of paperwork daily. And, certainly not a completed list, I had to love them.
I realize that thus far, this is negative and would lead one to believe that I loathe my job, and I certainly don't. At least I didn't this year. I spent two years begging the Lord to help me to love this job. On the days when I couldn't stand it any longer, I dreamed of so many other careers that, in my opinion, would've been so much easier and more suitable for me. I looked into going back to school to be a dietitian. I even considered opening a scrapbooking store, all in my head of course. I constantly played the "what would make me happy" game. And I just continued to pray.
God, I want a job that I love. I want to be satisfied with what I am doing.
I started this year with sense of unease. I had had one miserable year, had left in the middle of what would've been a better year. It would be my third year and my fourth school. I was constantly the "new girl."
Where's the library? What's the librarian's name? How does discipline work? Who should I go to if I have a question with __________? What books do I use to teach? How is this normally taught in this school? Where's the restroom?
It was exhausting. I had hung and taken down and hung and taken down the same decorations over and over. This year, though, it was different. I was working with a team, and there's something in that that gave me confidence in myself and profession that I had never had. As a teacher, you're a lone ranger. It's just you and the kids. You can seclude yourself and never talk to an adult the entire day, and no one would no the difference. You can be as insecure about what you're doing and how you're doing it and never let a sole know and never ask a question about how they're doing it and if that's better. Working with a team, I was able to steal and share ideas. There's safety in numbers, so when I knew that someone else is teaching exactly what I was, I came out of my "I can't do this" shell. I had time to love my kids and not just see them as my daily form of torture.
He heard my prayers because even on my very worst day, I could still say to myself that I loved this job. This is how I know it's all worth it:
"I had a lot of fun in your class with you this year, and I am so glad I got you as my RELA teacher!!! I love your personality, sense of style, creative handwriting and powerpoints, and just your free spirit. You are an awesome, fun person and teacher!!! You were my favorite. Shh...don't tell. Hope you had a good 1st year at KMS, and I'll miss you. God bless you and your family." [Yes, it was punctuated correctly. Woohoo!]
"Mrs. Whitley, I never loved english so much. I hope I see you again."
"Mrs. Whitley, I never loved english so much. I hope I see you again."
Third year of teaching, I will miss you. You changed everything that I thought of this job.
"The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer." Psalm 6:9
And you realize that you are that much more thankful for your husband's job which keeps you in touch with the young, hip, in-the-know generation. All those years when you wanted that hair that was in your mom's pictures and now you are wanting it even more that is back, you have found the key to its success. Ahhh...bliss.
Too bad you're just too darn cheap to buy it. You decide to stick to the rat's nest in your hair; after all, it makes you thankful for your conditioner.
And by you, you're, and your, I mean I, I'm, and my, of course.
While on the subject of fashion repeating itself, has anyone walked into a middle school lately and seen any of this:
It's made its way back, but only middle school kids can pull it off. Unless, as previously stated, you do it and you "own it." Then, we'll be none the wiser.
And while I'm on the topic of things middle schoolers like, this is pretty much the icing on the cake.
There's a strong possibility that I like this too. Don't judge a book by its cover or the crowd for whom it's written.
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