Courtesy? (Prov. 12:25)

I generally don't post when I'm "in a mood." However, this week I'm making an exception.

This post is regarding my broken leg. I won't be offended if you click off. I know it's a tedious subject. I'm bored of it myself. Deep into my 10th week of healing (75 days), and I'm still not putting weight on it or able to sleep without the boot. I haven't started PT yet. I still have no idea how much longer it will be before I can drive. In fact, I'm not sure in which of the end-of-year events on our  long-term calendar I'll actually be able to participate, come June. 

I was supposed to see the doctor today about my foot. Based on my past experience, I wasn't expecting answers to all of my questions. I was hoping for answers to some.

What I got was a rather powerful lesson in courtesy.

Sometime around noon today the doc's office called to let me know they were "rescheduling" my appointment. No reason given. So I begged someone to watch my class while I called to find out what was going on. Apparently the doc decided not to have evening hours any more. And by evening I mean anything after 4. Now, I don't mean to whine, but one of the reasons I chose this office was because they had later hours. 

Setting that aside, though, today's incident was bad business, plain and simple. He did not wake up sick this morning and have to call in. He made a plan to change his practice. Whether he put that plan in motion this morning or last month, surely someone could have noticed existing appointments and rescheduled them in a more timely fashion. After all, some of those appointments were made by people who cannot drive themselves. 

I called the clinic to express my frustration. I got the switchboard at the main office. They noted my frustration, but made no apology. I had to insist (and I hate insisting) on an appointment after 4 - with anyone at all. They "supposed" they could get me in at 4:10 tomorrow. I have rarely felt so ... ignored.

After begging no less than a dozen wonderful people who all had very legitimate previous engagements, I finally managed to find a ride. Then I re-arranged a parent-meeting I had set for tomorrow. And got permission from my boss to leave a few minutes early to make the early time. So... tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, I'll see a doctor who's going to be less-than-happy to see me after-hours to (hopefully) get at least some of my questions answered. I'll smile at an office staff who clearly can't manage their own calendars. I'll pay for service that I have to accept because I can't (realistically) transfer anywhere else at this point. I'll schedule my next appointment with my fingers crossed.

Obviously I left work in a less than lovely mood.

Thanks to the coworker who was driving today, I was able to stop at the grocery store on the way home. While she was parking the car, the courtesy clerk came, took my crutches, and hooked me up with one of those beepy-wheely-carts (my first time with one). The clerk was friendly - laughing and helping me get situated. He even offered to have someone go around with me to reach the high shelves. 

When my driver joined me, she did the reaching for me. She insisted on searching for the wine I liked. She didn't mind when we had to schooch back to the entrance side of the store because I forgot an ingredient I needed for the one dish I'm actually cooking this week. She didn't judge when I also grabbed a frozen pizza and a mini-cheesecake. It was no big deal to her to help me out. 

And I felt much better when I left, still laughing about the wine & cheesecake. The courtesy clerk and my wonderful co-worker treated me like a person. A human, with feelings and needs and desires that matter. They treated me like I mattered.

Which, is the point of this very rambling post. Whatever you are doing, please, treat people like they matter. They really do. And your courtesy could turn around their whole day.

Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up. Proverbs 12:25 (Of course 12:16 leaves me feeling a bit foolish. Sigh. Always learning).

Time-OUT! (Mk 2:27)

A few weeks ago I made myself an outline of topics I wanted to write about for the next few weeks. My goal was to become more consistent, and to find a rhythm in my posting. I deliberately decided to ignore trickier issues like voice, relevance, and whether or not the world really needs another blogger. I enjoy writing, and I decided that it was my privilege to inflict my opinions on anyone crazy enough to read them. After all, if the title of this blog doesn't say "enter at your own risk," I think you  may want to revisit the definition of "insignificant."

So I have this outline. A to-do list, if you will.

This week was supposed to be about loving what you do. Burning the midnight oil. Having a passion for your job. It seemed like a good fit for a week that included parent-teacher conferences. I even got Jennie to make me some art! (Go, check out her website. She does some cool stuff).

I was right in theory. This week was exhausting. The midnight oil was burnt, refilled, and burnt again. I even wrote two posts about conferences earlier this week, just to vent. (Scroll down, they should be showing).

But now that the week is done, and I've survived, I'm not feeling very passionate about work. In fact, I'm feeling rather drained.

Which could be a problem, since the schedule says to write about passion.
Then again, maybe not. After all, true passion does leave us exhausted. Spent.
Perhaps because we are not able to live very long at that level of intensity. We have to have time to recharge. Reset.

God made us that way. He warned us to make time to rest. He specifically set aside one day in every week for unwinding. He even modeled it for us. "On the seventh day He rested." - Genesis 2:2.

I'm sure there's something God could have been doing that first Sabbath day. Something on His eternal to-do list. Something He could have been tweaking, improving, making better than "good." He did get right back to work on the 8th day, without an alarm clock or snooze alarm (though I'd like to believe He at least had some coffee!), because there was still plenty to be done.

That's the point, really. There's always more to be done. There's a huge gulf between "good enough" and "excellent." As much as I'd like to be excellent, all the time, at everything (and my mom will be happy to tell you I've always been that way), I'm learning that sometimes I have to accept "good enough."

So today's the day I'll rest and reset. I've already gone for a walk. I've read a book. I'm giving myself time and permission to just do whatever I want. Which will probably include folding the laundry and cleaning the kitchen, not because they are on some to-do list, or because they have to be done, but because having things clean and organized makes me feel rested.

Then tomorrow afternoon, when I take out my school-bag, I'll be able to feel the excited anticipation of renewed enthusiasm.

Thank you, Jesus, for reminding me of the real reason for the fourth commandment.

Then He said to them "The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath."  -Mk2:27 (NIV)

Wild Weather (Is 6:20)

This picture was from a good article on CNBC.com (click to follow link).

The experts are calling it Frankenstorm. Hurricane Sandy meets Nor'easter (hot wind + cold wind) during a full moon. I think the nickname is quite funny, but I know that it's really nothing to laugh at.

I'm as ready as I can be. I have an emergency radio.The flashlights all have new batteries. All my water jugs are full, I have extra water in the cupboard, and there's plenty of peanut butter, granola bars, and apples. The first aid kits are stocked (all except the neosporin - somehow I forgot to replenish that). My phone and computer are living on their chargers.

I live in a basement, though. So half of my supplies are in the car, just in case. The gas tank is full. My sister lives safely south of the "affected area," so I have a plan. 

Having just moved, I'll admit, I didn't have my emergency stuff in order; I had to go buy water Friday night. Along with about half the city, it seems, because the stores were nearly sold out of water. And bread. And beer (not that I wanted beer - I prefer just about anything else! - but I couldn't help noticing the empty shelves). My sister assures me that if I'd checked the diapers aisle that would've been low, too.

Which got me to thinking about preparedness. In my entire adult life, I've never experienced a real disaster (thankfully). I spent most of my adult life in the western Puget Sound region; a region naturally protected from too much trauma - other than the occasional mild earthquake. This past January, we endured "snowpocalypse," a massive snow and ice storm that kept the city shut down for a week. I was without power for 3 days, some friends were out longer. My main concerns during that event were 1) keeping icy branches from crushing my car and 2) cabin-fever! While living in Denver, I also experienced a couple of genuine so-called "blizzards," but a blizzard in the city looks much different than the ones you might imagine from Little House on the Prarie. All that to say, I've had no reason to be prepared.

But I (sortof) was. Ever since my first perceptible earthquake (2001) - I've had an "emergency kit." Just in case. I generally rotate the goods in it with the seasons, just to keep things fresh. So I don't really understand the shoppers who clean the shelves at the last minute. They can't all be new to town. They can't ALL have just finished unpacking and setting up a new life. They live here. There was a big wind storm here this summer. It knocked out power to parts of VA for over a week. Maybe they used up their supplies then. Maybe they should've stocked up again after that?

By Courtney Carmody, via Flickr

Which reminded me: Jesus says "no man knows the day or the hour" (Matthew 24:36) of His return. He even told a story about women, waiting for their husbands to return from a deployment, during a storm, and not having batteries in their flashlights (ok, it wasn't exactly like that, but it could have been - Matthew 25). When the end of the world finally arrives, we won't have days to prepare. We won't have alarms and storm trackers and friends and neighbors calling to be sure we have everything we need. When the end of this world of pain and suffering finally comes, it will be in the blink of an eye. 

So we need to be ready, and we need to reach out to our friends and neighbors NOW to help them be ready, because we love them, and we want them to be safe. So call someone. Share the good news.
The end *is* coming. Let's get ready together.

"Your days of grief will come to an end. I, the Lord, will be your eternal light." -Isaiah 6:20

Be Brave! (Phil 4:8)

I admit it. I'm rather excited for Disney/Pixar's newest film, Brave.
Not because I love animated films (though when I'm in the right mood, I do). Not because I'm a fan of Scotland (I'm not) or folklore (I am, but this isn't a familiar tale). Not even because it's got a spunky female lead (what movie doesn't these days?).
Nope.
I'm excited because the leading lady has frizzy red hair.
Yup. You read that right. I'm excited because of a cartoon girl's tangled tresses.

I'm not sure how copyright works here in the blogosphere, so I won't post a picture from the movie. Here's a link to the official website, though. 

You might not recognize it consciously, but this is a 21st century first. Sure...there have been some frizzy-headed characters in modern movies. Quite often they are the "before." Remember 2001's The Princess Diaries, or even Harry Potter (Hermione became quite polished, rather quickly). But as a rule, today's heroines are always sleek, no matter how improbable (think Hunger Games). Add to that the ever-present Pantene commercials, and what's a frizzy-headed girl to do?

Spend a ton of time and money trying to smooth out her God-given curls? Wear a hat?
According to the previews for Brave, the Princess' mother tries both approaches. They don't work.
Merida, the princess, is who she is, and she's not ashamed of it.

We need a little more of that confidence in our every day lives.
We also need to recognize and represent the diversity that makes the world so glorious. Ethnic and cultural, certainly. I'm well aware that the media has  a huge problem with that. But, I realized this weekend, we also need to glorify the diversity of style and personality. We are not made to be cookie cutter copies of some master template.

What would happen if we didn't buy the stereotypes? If we didn't think every woman should WANT to look like Jennifer Aniston or Halle Berry? If we didn't think all men should WANT to look like Bradley Cooper or Donald Driver? What if we were more interested in the secrets of a person's character than Victoria's Secret?

We live in a media-saturated world. Books, movies, music, tv shows, and advertisements are everywhere, and they are training us, whether we want them to or not. It's how our brains work.

We have to fight back. Meet real people. Do real things. Soak up reality. Let reality shape our perceptions.


Recognize the truth:

Christians aren't always preaching.
Dads aren't all clueless.
Moms aren't all polished, organized, and patient.
Teenagers aren't all irresponsible. Or beasts. Or totally sex-crazed.
Suburban house-wives aren't all (fit and glamorous) joggers.
Singles aren't all hanging out at bars.
Criminals aren't glamorous.

... and not everyone has perfect hair.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. -Philippians 4:8 (NIV)

The Magic of Numbers

I teach humanities to middle-schoolers. That means I spend my days trying to make groups of about twenty-six 11 year-olds care about reading strategies, grammar, writing fluency, and history. If you've never done that, you should try it sometime. It's very ... entertaining.

I have to say though, that this weekend, it's math that is fascinating me. Specifically subtraction.You see, this week included one of my top-ten favorite days in the school year.The orchestra field trip.
Wait.
What?
Why does a reading teacher care about that? And what has a music field-trip to do with subtraction?

Well... let me explain.
At my school, all students take music. There are three choices - band, vocal, and orchestra. Since my students are the "babies" of the building (meaning it's their first year with us), they get to choose more freely, based on their interest and curiosity, not talent (or lack of). Which means they are pretty evenly split. Typically, about 1/3 of my class signs up for each musical discipline.

So, when the orchestra takes their annual field trip, I loose about 1/3 of my class for half the day.

Why is this a good thing?
Because of subtraction.
You see, in teaching, size really does matter.

With only 16 kids instead of 25 in my morning group, I was able to work with EVERY STUDENT IN THE ROOM for a few minutes that morning. Instead of trying to help a collective group of 11 year-olds extrapolate their personal struggles from a general lesson, I could get right to the issue and set each of them a task to help him/her move forward with what he/she needed. The kids who were "getting it," could work on enriching their understanding - and could check in with me if the going got too tough. The kids who weren't got more time with me to revisit and review the core concept. Even the kid who sometimes makes me want to crawl under a desk and hide learned something that morning.

He proved it, that afternoon, when the kids who were present in the morning got to "teach" the lesson to those orchestra kids who missed it (who caught up pretty easily because they were motivated). He was so proud of himself!

I think it was that student who prompted me to write this post. Because for him, even more than for me, size mattered. With a smaller class he got the attention he needed to actually learn something.

As citizens and voters, we need to remember that. One or two extra kids might not seem like a big deal, but they are. They add up quickly. That one kid who needed a little extra help? He might be yours.

New Year's Resolutions

It's cliched, I know, to make resolutions. It is much easier not to break resolutions you don't make, so that's been my thinking the last few years. Avoid failing myself by skipping the whole thing.

This year, though, I'm taking a braver stand. I'm declaring some goals for the year, and stepping forward in full confidence that I can and will do what I set out to do.

So, in 2012, I will give myself (at least) 1 hour each day.

15 minutes to write in a journal, memory book, story, or blog.

15 minutes to read something uplifting, inspiring, or otherwise edifying.

15 minutes to walk & breathe.

15 minutes to meditate on how much God loves me.

Now, obviously that's not much time for any of these. Ideally, I'll find myself so engrossed I'll spend a little more time in each worthy pursuit. Yet I sit here, thinking over the last month or so, and recognize that such a small commitment will be a HUGE improvement from my recent past.

To tell the truth, my last blog post (Nov. 10) was the last serious writing I did (unless you count the endless Christmas-card letters).  I *may* have logged a total of 60 minutes this month reading a couple inspirational works by CSLewis and Brennan Mannering. Maybe. Most of what I read over my Christmas break was cotton-candy for the brain. I read the YA series The Hunger Games. I read 5 of those short Christmas novellas that magically appear everywhere this time of year. I read 3 magazines: Oprah, People, and Saturday Evening Post. I read a mystery by James Patterson. I read some of my favorite children's Christmas books. As for walking and breathing... well... um, yea. I live just under two miles from one of the most gorgeous views around, but I can't tell you the date of the last time I walked down to see it.

I can't even tell you how far I've gotten from really feeling God's love. Gasp, if you will, but be honest.  I'm not saying I think God doesn't love me. I'm saying I've gotten so caught up in "my world" that I've forgotten how to see that love. I expect to write more on that as the year progresses. 

My resolutions are tiny. I will, most likely, miss a step every so often (in fact, I didn't walk today). But even little things make a big difference. Like a smile from a friend.  One extra "snooze" in the morning. A baby. A pair of comfy socks. A cup of coffee. 5mph on the freeway. So, a little bit at a time, I resolve to spend the next year getting closer to the me I want to be.