An Afterward...A Prelude

When I was writing the "My Journey South" series back in August I planned to wrap up everything up soon afterward, but life had other plans...

The title of my blog is purposefully ambiguous. Some people call it "My Story" others call it "Mystery." I rarely refer to it by name so I don't have to choose. To say that my life's journey is simply "my story" is to imply that I have ultimate control over what may or may not happen. 

One of the most influential books on my young adult life was When God Writes Your Life Story by Eric and Leslie Ludy, it's premise - "For life to be fully lived, the God of the impossible must be fully trusted with the writing of the script." That's where the mystery comes in...I may not know how things are going to turn out, but God always will. This is why the song "Already There" has completely blown me away, it puts into words what I have never been able to... "When I'm lost in the mystery to You my future is a memory..."

This is where I found myself five years ago. I was completely lost in the unknown, in trying to figure out what was going to happen next, in what my next move should be. 

To back up several months to the Spring of 2006, I was in my second long-term subbing assignment of the year in 6th grade ELA. I spent most of that school year in that particular middle school, getting to know the other teachers and the administration, learning more about how things worked in that school and the district. I remember thinking, several times, this is it...this is what God has arranged to get me a job here. 

In an effort to save money the district implemented an early retirement buyout that year, confirming again in my mind that this was what God had in store. Everyday, I would watch the latest job postings knowing that my dream job was going to appear. I think out of the forty openings that were eventually posted there was one Social Studies position and it never made it out of the internal listings. 

I was disappointed and frustrated, but not only by the opening that never appeared, and I wasn't the only one feeling that way. It was the first year for that middle school, a brand-new building consolidating two older middle schools in the city, and a brand-new principal. She imposed a lot of crazy policies that year and stepped on a lot of toes. As a sub I was shielded from much of what was going on, but I still remember the day I was mad enough to go back to the classroom, log-in to the site I was using to look for jobs, and send my resume to every posting I could find across the country because I never wanted to work for that lady again.  

Not much time went by before I received a reply thanking me for my interest and explaining what I needed to do to become certified to teach in South Carolina. That Human Resources department was very helpful, they answered any questions I had and I probably would have never completed the process for South Carolina certification without them. Unfortunately, their openings were filled before the process was complete...and before I could figure out if it was pronounced "Beau-as in beautiful-fort" or "Beau-as in the old word for boyfriend-fort."

It was this experience that caused me to recognize what an amazing thing the providential nature of God truly is. A recent Bible study described it this way... "Our word providence is made up of two Latin words, pro and video, and carries the meaning 'to see beforehand and provide what is needed.'" At the time, I was disappointed that I didn't get the job in Massillon or the one in Beaufort, looking back I realize that both experiences were necessary for me to be where I am today, but I'm grateful that God was looking ahead and providing what I didn't know I needed.

I remember the day I was thinking about all the time I spend in Beaufort and wondering why God didn't want that job for me because it just seemed like it would make things simpler. It was with a jolt I realized that moving straight to Beaufort would mean no time in Allendale....no time in Allendale would mean never meeting Michelle and Ray and the kids who have become like family....not meeting them would mean not being introduced to CBC because even though it is in Beaufort I would have never gone there on my own.

In the Spring of 2006, I had no way of knowing what all was in store. And now, in the Fall of 2011, my memories serve to remind me that whatever lies ahead, if God is the One with the pen, I have no need fear the mystery of my story.

Already There

After my last post, discovering this song this week certainly seems like Providence at work...

I love Casting Crowns.

From where I’m standing

Lord, it’s so hard for me to see

Where this is going

And where You’re leading me

I wish I knew how

All my fears and all my questions

Are going to play out

In a world I can’t control

When I’m lost in the mystery

To You my future is a memory

‘Cause You’re already there

You’re already there

Standing at the end of my life

Waiting on the other side

And You’re already there

You’re already there

From where You’re standing

Lord, You see a grand design

That You imagined

When You breathed me into life

And all the chaos

Comes together in Your hands

Like a masterpiece

Of Your picture-perfect plan

When I’m lost in the mystery

To You my future is a memory

One day I’ll stand before You

And look back on the life I've lived

I can’t wait to enjoy the view

And see how all the pieces fit

One day I’ll stand before You

And look back on the life I've lived

‘Cause You’re already there

You’re already there

When I’m lost in the mystery

To You my future is a memory

‘Cause You’re already there

You’re already there

Standing at the end of my life

Waiting on the other side

And You’re already there

A Shaky Sparrow

I could never get a tattoo, my aversion to needles has seen to that. But if I could I know what it should be... Matthew 6:34, in reverse on my forehead so I could see it clearly every time I looked in the mirror...

So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. 

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I love to plan things. Working out schedules and strategies truly makes me happy (pathetically sad, I know, but true nonetheless). I let myself get fooled into thinking that the more I plan something the better guaranteed I am that everything will go perfectly. 

Part of this I blame on my job. As an educator you are told the better planned your lessons are the better your chance of success, which is true...to a point. 

It is also my job as an educator that should remind me how futile plans can sometimes be. It doesn't matter how many hours you spend perfecting an incredible plan when one misplaced comment by you (or a student) can derail the entire thing. 

Now before some of you start worrying, I haven't had some major plan fall apart, I just find myself once again wondering how some things are going to work out and being so tempted to come up with my own plan. 

I really should know better. Most of the biggest mistakes in my life were things where I let myself get too caught up in my plan. Most of the best things in my life were things where I had no plan at all....

I never planned to go to Malone for my education, but I'm grateful I did.

I never planned to get a Master's degree in American History, but I'm glad I [almost] have.

I never planned to move to South Carolina.

I never planned to work at Allendale or Carver.

I never planned to find CBC.

I never planned to meet some of the amazing people I have met over the last five years.

In fact most of my plans would have kept God's plans from ever happening. 

So this morning I needed the reminder not to worry and to take my own advice on being still before the Lord. And maybe instead of getting a tattoo on my forehead, I should get one on my heart instead.

Pencil Box Memories

One of my last days home over the summer, my Grandpa wanted to go
through the things in his workshop. So, they packed him up and took
him home for the afternoon. When he found this box of pencils and things
 he thought maybe I could use it at school.

A common activity in history classrooms is to give students a bunch of
"stuff" and have them try to figure out what it all means...who did it
belong to, what time period is it from, what was it used for...

So if you knew my Grandpa you wouldn't be surprised that there were
several carpenter's pencils.

A fitting reminder of the "old life" that he exchanged for the eternal.

If the layer of sawdust covering the contents didn't clue you in to the
fact that he like to build, this might.

He loved going to auctions. My mom said that he could tell her almost
everything he bought at every auction he had ever been to...and
that would be quite a few. He was great at finding hidden treasures.

For builders who like to color? =) 

My senior year of high school  my Grandma was in a very serious
car accident and spent a long time in Edwin Shaw.

I think there is a specific genetic marker in the DNA of people
from West Virginia because it is definitely in their blood.

I'm trying not to worry that the FBI is going to come after me....
but I'd love to know how he got these.

Are we sensing a pattern, yet?

Uh oh, there's another one.

He had lost so much weight that none of his pants fit him anymore.
One day, I was teasing him that at the school we would put zip ties
on the pants of boys who wore them too loose.
One of the first things they did when he got to his workshop that day
was to put a zip tie on his pants to hold them up.

This one was bittersweet.

I wonder what the statute of limitations is on stolen pencils....

The Angels by My Side...

When I left my house yesterday I just turned on my mp3 player and let it play the whole way home. Most of the time I didn't even know what was playing, but occasionally there would be a song I would find myself singing along with, sometimes crying along with. When this song came on I didn't remember ever hearing it before even though I downloaded the album months ago.

I want to thank all of you who have been an angel by my side over the last day, the last week, and the last six months. Your kindness can never be repaid, but will never be forgotten!

"They only pick on you because they like you..."

The first day of school always finds me a nervous wreck and that day in August 2002 was no different, in fact it was probably worse. I graduated from Malone the previous December and spent the spring substitute teaching, the summer working a temp job in an office while investigating the non-existent job market for Social Studies teachers in Ohio. At the end of the summer I had two options, I could take the full-time job I had been offered in the office or I could become the 7th & 8th grade supervisor at Faith Christian Academy. Despite the lack of benefits and the $13,000/year salary, I went with the job at Faith. Working in an ACE school is not exactly what I planned to do when I got my teaching degree but it meant I could work with kids, in my own room no less.

So, there I was, a Baptist girl in a Mennonite school...no excessive make-up, no jewelry, no nail polish, and always a skirt; but none of that really bothered me because I was one step closer to doing what I had always wanted to do...be a teacher.

I had two reassurances going into that first day of school... I already knew two of my students. My friend, Tina, worked at the school and three of her boys attended there. The youngest, Donnie, would be in my class. I had known Donnie since he was little and had been telling him since he was in about the 3rd grade that I was waiting on him to grow up so I could marry him....after which he would usually scowl and get away as fast as he possibly could.

Throughout high school and college, I worked for the Orrville-Dalton YMCA, usually as the Friday night closer, and there was one family that always came in to play Wallyball (a form of volleyball played inside a racquetball court) just as I had settled in behind the desk to eat my dinner, or do some studying, or read a book. Their daughter Alicia would also be in my class.

I did not know at the time that there was bit of a feud between the boys and girls with whom I would be spending the next year, and frequently Donnie and Alicia were right in the middle. I could never count how many times over that year I said, "You guys fight like an old married couple," or (as is required for all teachers to say at some point) "If he's picking on you it must mean he likes you."

I never really meant what I was saying, I just knew it was the easiest way to get them to stop fighting. So, several years later when I am sitting in my South Carolina living room going through Facebook and I see that  Donnie and Alicia are now  "In a relationship," I almost choked on my supper.  I had to check out both of their profiles to make sure it wasn't some kind of joke and then I called Tina to verify that I was really reading that correctly. Even then, it was only a high school relationship and we all know high school relationships aren't supposed to work out...well, except maybe Kevin and Lori.

Maybe it is my hardened, old-maid's heart (I threw that in just for you, Brad), but I tend to be skeptical of "young love." Surely love can't last without some experience and maturity mixed in. Well, Donnie and Alicia are still young (Donnie and Alicia will always be young to me), but they have also faced some things that some more "seasoned" relationships wouldn't have survived. When Donnie got hurt he faced a pretty intense recovery process, both physically and emotionally, but Alicia never left his side. When he went away to school, they made a long-distance relationship work. I am proud of them and their commitment to each other.

This wedding is special to me because of the two wonderful lives it will be joining together, because Donnie is the last of the "Weaver boys" to get married, and because I will forever be able to say, "I told you so!"

Love you both and wish you a lifetime of happiness! 

My Journey South: Second Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 2006

Friday was rather uneventful, a welcome change and a much needed opportunity to just crash. That night I relished being able to simply sleep without worrying about making it to work on time or being prepared for class the next day.

By early Saturday afternoon I had my car packed once again. I paid the hotel bill, thankful that it had only been for six days not three weeks, and headed to Donna's. We were both pretty worn out, she had company for much of the week and I, well, had the week I had; so we moved my stuff in and then didn't do a whole lot.

That evening her daughter and grandchildren came over. It was Michelle's thirtieth birthday and her husband was working so we had some cake and ice cream and I was introduced to two of the cutest redheaded boys you will ever meet in your life and one very outspoken nine year old. Alyssa's first words to me were, "I thought you'd be younger!" It amazes me that Michelle's youngest, Alex, doesn't remember a time when I wasn't around.

I hate admitting that the next morning Donna and I decided to skip church. She was still tired, I was still feeling overwhelmed. Later in the afternoon we went to lunch and made a trip to Walmart. Lunch was at a Mexican restaurant that she really liked and it wasn't too bad (no where close to El Campesino, though), but I was almost finished with my meal when I discovered a dead fly on my plate. I chose not to let Donna know and covered it with a piece of lettuce, but quickly realized I was no longer hungry.

...This is pretty much the end of my day-by-day account of moving to South Carolina. There are some assorted loose ends that I will tie up in another post, or two.

My Journey South: Second Thursday, August 2006

It is always an amazing thing when someone tells you they will pray for you, but when they back up their prayer with a little shoe leather you really know they care.

By Thursday afternoon my mom and I had figured out the only form of communication that really worked, I would let her know I was back and then she would call the hotel to be connected with my room. She was waiting on me Thursday, it seems she had a busy afternoon.

Donna's husband, Clif, was our pastor when we lived in Chattanooga. It seems he had spent much of the day calling every church connection he had within South Carolina asking if they knew anyone who knew anyone who lived in Allendale. He was talking to a church secretary in Columbia when he got the unexpected response, "Well, yes, one one of my closest friends lives in Allendale!" He explained to her the circumstances and she connected him with her friend, whose name was also Donna. He explained things to Donna and then connected her with my mother. They talked for a while and before I even knew what was going on, it had been arranged that I would move in with Donna until the apartment was ready. She gave me Donna's number and we worked out that I would move in on Saturday. The entire situation was the greatest reminder I have yet experienced that God has a solution for our greatest problems already prepared before we even experience them. (It is also why Psalm 37:7 is my favorite verse.)

_____________________________________________________
I wanted to mention this yesterday, but Blogger wasn't cooperating...

What I have been writing over the last week, or so, is based on what I was experienced at the time...my first impressions and feelings that were subject to change as my time at the school went on. I did not know at the time that the assistant principal was someone who would be there for me many times, helping me with problems and dealing with parents. I had no way of knowing, as I know now, that if she knew all that was going on and how the district office was treating me she would have stepped in. 

My Journey South: Second Tuesday and Wednesday, August 2006

It is amazing just how much can happen in a week's time...

The realtor told me to call his office sometime Tuesday to check on the apartment. It wasn't finished yet, but his nephew was the contractor and they were going to see how long it would take before someone could move in.

Even this seemingly simple task was more complicated then it needed to be. I already mentioned that I was having serious connection issues with my cell phone; there was no reception anywhere in the school building and there were only two phones available for teacher use (that made parent contacts a little difficult) and they had long distance calling blocked. When I asked to be allowed to make a phone call I was informed that they were official school use only. Despite my reputation for being quiet and mild mannered, I do occasionally let my temper get the best of me and my response was a curt, "If I don't find a place to live, I won't be teaching here...that kinda sounds like school business to me." 

I made the phone call, but it wasn't as helpful as I had hoped. They thought the construction would be done in about three weeks. This fit with the time my parents had planned to pack and bring down all my furniture and books and clothes and books and dishes and books (my dad has said he will never move me again because of my books), but meant three weeks of living in a hotel room.

[That afternoon we were finally told our schedules...and I really do mean "told," we all stood in a line and waited to be called so she could tell us what we were teaching and we either remembered or wrote it down. Upperclassmen were on a block schedule and underclassmen were on a regular schedule... Government/Economics, AP US History, test prep, and Speech and Debate. Somehow my response of "no" experience with debate had been translated as a "yes" and I was now a coach. When they found there was a misunderstanding I was given the option of backing out, but was talked into it...definitely one of the best decisions of my life! Despite having so many preps, my schedule was any teacher's dream. I had a "normal" 90 minute planning period in the morning, a 30 minute transition period from when my last block class ended and my regular schedule class started, and the APUSH class was on an A/B schedule so every other day I had an additional 90 minute planning period...I frequently look back with longing at all the time I took for granted.]

My family has been blessed with the friendship of an amazing family that we met while living in Chattanooga. My mom had been in communication with them and that night Donna called me. I won't say that I was exactly feeling better about my living situation, or lack thereof, but I was resigned to it, so when she asked what I considered to be my biggest need at that point I said a place to live. We talked for a little bit and she promised they would be praying.

The next day was the first day for students and despite my nerves and all that had been and was still going on, it was a great day. I have told and will continue to tell everyone who asks that my students were the best part of working at Allendale. It wasn't always easy but I wouldn't trade the two years I spent there for the best private school in the country.

My Journey South: Second Monday, August 2006

By the time I left the school that Monday afternoon I was an emotional time bomb waiting to explode. Any adrenaline that had been helping me survive was long since gone and the heat was sapping what little energy I had in reserve and the events of the day didn't help things a whole lot.

I had seen enough of my classroom the night before to know that it would need a thorough cleaning before I could do anything else to prepare for the school year. I arrived at the school early, ready and willing to do whatever necessary to get my room in shape for Wednesday. My well-laid plans were waylaid by the introduction of something into my life known as the "faculty meeting." I spent the rest of the morning being told exactly what I needed to have in my classroom and how it should look, but never actually getting the opportunity to do any work in it. Because I now only had a day and a half to get ready for students, and because my room looked and smelled like it had been the rodent resort of choice for quite some time, I decided to forgo lunch and do some disinfecting. 

[At some point in the day I do enough investigating to find out that the sign-on bonus that I was told I would receive when I arrived wouldn't be ready for about two weeks. This was kind of a big deal because I had been working as a sub for the past four years, barely making enough to pay my bills and not getting paid at all during the summers. Money was tight and that is what I needed to get an apartment, sign up for utilities, and all that other fun stuff you have to pay for when you move.]

I quit working a little before four only because I had to stop by the district office to sign my contract, but before I left I thought I should discuss things with my hostess-to-be. I tracked her down in her office where she was still working out the schedules only to be told that she would be at the school kind of late and thought maybe it would be best if I returned to the hotel for the night. I don't know if was her stress or my imagination that made me think that she would just prefer I not stay with her at all. 

So now I am physically and mentally exhausted, the heat feels like it is sucking every fiber of life out of me, my blood sugar is crashing because I skipped lunch, and I was just told that I am basically homeless...not a bad first day on the job. 

I made to the district office before they all left and went into the human resources office to sign my contract where, of course, she asks how I am adjusting to everything. At that point I completely lose it. I am not just crying, I am literally sobbing. She tries to reassure me with promises that I'll find someplace to live and they won't let me be homeless and they can even give me an advance on my salary by the end of the week. 

I left there feeling slightly better, still shaken up but thinking that she understood. It was after four, I planned to visit a real estate agent, but even if they had something there was no way I could move into someplace that night...surely she wouldn't expect that right? Right?

I went from there to the hotel...the hotel I was told to go back to by the assistant principal, the hotel I could have sworn the human resources manager just told me I could stay at until I had someplace more permanent,  the hotel the school was supposed to have paid for the night before...wait, what do you mean they never took care of the bill? You don't have ANY rooms available? For the second time in less than an hour I was sobbing uncontrollably in front of a complete stranger.  

To anyone with a passing familiarity with Hampton, SC an obvious question would be "Why on earth would their hotel be full?" It turns out that a local company was building a new plant and construction crew was from out of town so during the week they all stayed at the Days Inn. Anyway, I must have looked and sounded pretty pathetic because the manager did some calling around to see if all the reservations would be used and came up with one extra room. However, they also called the human resources office and were told to give me a message, the district would pay for Sunday night and that night but I needed to have a place to live by Tuesday. [The district never did pay for any of it.]

I don't know how my life seemed to fall apart twice since I left the school and it still wasn't five o'clock yet, but I managed to make it to the realty office before they closed. As I sat there explaining that I had just gotten to town the night before and had to find someplace to live, the entire story started spilling out and I became a sobbing mess once again. I never cry in public and for the third time that day I was losing it in front of complete strangers. The realtor's wife (office manager) gave me a hug and let me cry until I was able to regain control. Then, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that I was a complete lunatic, they told me about options, promised to check on some possibilities, and made an appointment to pick me up at the hotel to see some apartments later that night. 

In between all of this I was trying to let my parents know what was going on, but my cell phone wouldn't work. At some point, I don't remember now if it was that night or another, we came to the conclusion that as long as the hotel had a room I would just stay there until I found something permanent, the never knowing from day to day wasn't worth it. 

I made it back to the hotel and crashed for a little while, trying to regain some sense of calm, wondering what I had gotten myself into and if this was really what I was supposed to doing why were things going so poorly. Not long before I was supposed to be picked up, I went to get some things out of my car and noticed that someone had placed a tract on my windshield. I flipped it over to see if it was from a local church and once again started crying...it was from a church in North Canton, OH. 

I have already written about my apartment search in an earlier post, The Best Nest, so I won't go into it now. I know this was a long post, but it was a long day...one that still makes me kind of emotional when I think of all that was, all that could have been. 

My Journey South: First Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 2006

Friday was a long, crazy day. One last class and review session followed by the exam. [I really need to say at this point that I had some of the greatest classmates this week. From the time news started spreading about the job, everyone was full of good wishes, great advice, and general encouragement. They helped keep me sane and I appreciated it more than they knew.]

The exam should have been the easiest one of my MAHG career...the part I most clearly remember asked about the statesmanship of George Washington. Books could be written on his humble leadership alone, but instead I found myself distracted by packing lists and things to remember and what I absolutely couldn't forget. Somehow I managed to eke out enough to earn a 'B' and was on my way.

I stopped on the way home to say goodbye to my friend Tina. I was all prepared to tell her about what was going on and that I would be leaving the next morning, but when her son told me she wasn't home I wasn't quite sure what to do with that. You can't exactly say, "Tell your mom I'm moving and I'll see her at Christmas," so asked him to have her call me and went home to pack.

My grandparents came over for dinner and my friend Kayla came to say goodbye. I spent a good six hours sorting through clothes and teaching materials, things I thought I might need if I found a place to live and things I didn't think I could live without. I am still amazed at just how little and how much can be crammed into a Ford Escort ZX2.

I left the next morning...I think I cried the whole way to Cambridge. I was leaving everything and everyone I knew and loved to go someplace I had never been with people I had never met, I think I was entitled to a few tears.

I stopped for the night in Rock Hill. I knew I didn't want to drive all the way through in one day because I would get there too late and I would be too tired. I was slightly familiar with Rock Hill from my interview earlier in the summer and it seemed like a good place to rest. I went out to get some dinner and found out it was the back-to-school tax free weekend so I bought some school supplies, but was very much looking forward to sleep. The South Carolina wildlife had other ideas though. There was some kind of bug living behind the mini-fridge, sounded like a cricket, that would not stop making noises all night. At one point I was so frustrated that I tried killing it with hairspray (it didn't work, but it made me feel a little better).

Back on the road the next morning, I made a detour through Aiken because when I was looking online for places to live (you know, all those times I should have been studying) it seemed like my only option. Aiken seemed like a nice enough town, but the drive from there to Allendale could best be described as desolate. It seemed like I passed nothing but pine trees for most of that hour. It had been a dry summer and everything was some shade of brown, even the greens had a brown tint to them. (The next summer when I went back to Ohio, I felt like I had stepped into a technicolor movie and had to readjust to how vivid everything seemed.) Nothing prepared me for the heat. I had spent the morning in my car's air conditioning so I hadn't noticed the rising temperature, but when I finally reached the high school and opened the door, I felt like I was entering an oven...it literally took my breath away.

So it was with a sense of relief that I entered the school. I was out of the oppressive heat. I had reached my destination. My life was now about to begin....which meant, of course, I needed to call my mother. It was at this point I learned one of the most important lessons of the next few weeks...Sprint cell phones didn't work very well in this part of South Carolina.

After a brief discussion with the principal and a tour of the school, I was more than ready to call it a day and find someplace to crash...after all I had to be back there early the next morning. Instead of directions, or a ride, to the place I was supposed to be staying I was instead told that the assistant principal was not able to have me stay with her that evening, so they were going to send me to a local (20 minutes away) hotel. I followed another teacher to the hotel, checked in, and tried to prepare for all that was about to happen.

My Journey South: First Thursday, August 2006

Compared to the rest of the week, Thursday was rather uneventful. I spoke with the Human Resources supervisor before heading off to class and was officially offered the job. I was told that I'd be receiving a sign-on bonus once I got there and that they had arranged for me to stay with the female assistant principal because they knew I wouldn't have time to arrange housing.

"Overwhelmed" was quickly becoming my word of the week. Even though I had another day and a half of classes with two incredible professors my brain was officially toast. I was now more concerned with places to live and lessons to teach than American statesmanship...and I happen to be fascinated with American statesmanship. I checked into dropping the class, but it was advised against by the administrative assistant and the director (who also happened to be one of my professors). So I had the rest of Thursday and Friday to both prepare for my exam and the biggest move (literally and figuratively) of my life. 

My Journey South: First Wednesday, August 2006

I think I woke up nervous that Wednesday. I have always hated interviews but at least this time I wouldn't feel so much like a bug under a microscope.

I had a hard time concentrating during the first two sessions that morning, but the lunch break was there before I knew it. I decided to wait for the phone interview in the classroom because I knew it would be empty. One o'clock came and went and I figured he got held up with something so I worked on my readings for the afternoon class. One-thirty came and went and I was wondering if I misunderstood but I kept reading. Two o'clock came and went and I was getting a little annoyed. Two-thirty came and I called the school only to be told that he wasn't in the building. At that point I was pretty angry and by the time I got back to the apartment I was convinced I would never want to work for such an inconsiderate person.

By time the four o'clock session came around I had resigned myself to the idea that they must have hired someone  else. This had just been another possibility that didn't pan out and I needed to move on.

I had left class and was walking to dinner with my friend Deanna when I turned my phone on and discovered another voice mail. I returned the call still convinced that the position had been filled and still angry so I was prepared to be a little snippy.

My anger didn't last long in light of his apology for being called away to meeting and asking if I would mind doing the interview then. I'm still a little surprised the interview lasted beyond my next statement..."Uh, sure, but let me move someplace more private because the guy behind me is talking about a spleen surgery and it's a little distracting." A great way to make a first impression...

I moved across the street to the steps of Ashland's campus chapel and for the next thirty minutes talked about my subbing history and educational philosophy and what I would like to teach and whether I had any debate experience (to which I really did answer "no").  At the end of that thirty minutes I was offered a job (once it was cleared by human resources, of course).

I got off the phone and called my parents and immediately started crying (fourth week at Ashland, four years of job hunting...I was a little emotional). In between my tears, I managed to choke out that I had been offered the job, that I really thought I needed to accept it, and...oh, yeah, I had to be there by Monday. 

My Journey South: The First Tuesday in August 2006

By the first week of August 2006 I was pretty worn out. I had already finished three classes at Ashland that summer and was beginning my fourth. Peter, the director of the program, describes the courses as a mental boot camp and that is a fairly accurate description. After one week of lugging around huge stacks of books and binders and interacting with some the best teaching minds (my own excluded) from schools and universities throughout the country, you are tired...after four or five you've reached a state of exhaustion you didn't think possible.

I was also a little bummed by that point of the summer. Earlier, I had gone to Rock Hill, SC for a teaching interview and been told that they didn't think I had enough experience. The same for another school I had been communicating with by phone. Just in last few days I had a phone conversation with another principal from Rock Hill that went something like this...

Principal: Well, when do you think you will move to South Carolina? 

Me: When you tell me I have a job. 

Principal: We aren't comfortable offering positions until we know the person has made that move. 

Me: I can't make a move like that without knowing that I will have a job when I get there. 

...At that point I pretty much resigned myself to yet another year of subbing. I didn't really mind subbing, in fact, there were days I very much enjoyed it, but I knew both financially and in job satisfaction that it wasn't a long term option. 

Earlier that summer we had some pretty bad storms and the electric was out for most of a weekend, so I ended up staying at Ashland and went to a local church that Sunday. It wasn't the best service I have ever experienced but there was one phrase that became my mantra that summer. The pastor held out a yardstick and said "You should never measure your problems by your ability to solve them, but by God's." No matter what I did, I could not give myself a job, that was out of my hands...I could only respond to the opportunities presented to me. At that moment it seemed as if another year of subbing was the opportunity, so I was determined to make it my best year ever.

Have you ever noticed how funny God's timing can be sometimes? I had no sooner reached that conclusion and started making some plans when I got a phone call, a voicemail message to be precise. I can even tell you the exact time I got it, not because it is ingrained on my mind, but because the first morning session of class always breaks at 10:30. The strange number and voicemail icon took me by surprise, but not nearly as much as the message, which was something like this...

"Hi, this is Jeff from Allendale-Fairfax High School. 

If you are still looking for a teaching position could you 

please call Vance at [whatever the school's number was]."

...Stunned would be a woefully inaccurate description, but it is the best I can do. I had to listen to the message a couple more times to make sure I heard it correctly and to get the number copied down. I think I was shaking when I dialed, both from nerves and an awareness that the second morning session of class always starts at 10:50.

When I reached the school Vance wasn't in, so I talked to Jeff long enough to learn that I should try calling after lunch and that he [Jeff] was an alumnus of Mount Union, a local rival of my own alma mater. We wrapped up the quick conversation and I went back to class a little shell-shocked. Later that afternoon I was finally able to make an appointment with Vance for a phone interview at 1pm the next day.

My brother made me cry today...

Last night I noticed a book outside the door to my room. I just assumed that my mom had found one she thought I would want to read and left it there for me.

I waited until this morning to bring it in and just tossed it on the bed while I was getting ready for church, still not paying much attention to it. 

There was some cardboard sticking out of the top and I thought maybe she had come across some stickers or something that she wanted to send home with me. I opened the book and found two gas gift cards instead. My first thought was they had been forgotten in a drawer or purse (gift cards were a frequent reward for meeting her quotas when she worked at the bank).

Then I saw the message at the top...only one person I know writes like that (and it isn't my mom).
He may not say much, but he knows how to get his point across...and apparently how to make me cry.

Saturday shopping in Ohio...

Anyone who pays attention to my posts (all two of you) will know that I LOVE P.Graham Dunn.

 In fact, it is probably a good thing that I don't live closer, but it happens to be right down the road from my grandpa's nursing home...

 Saturdays this summer they are having a "pictures by the pound" sale and I went to check it out. I didn't realize until I got there that they are also selling unframed prints for 25 cents. I got quite a variety (which my mom and I are still "fighting" over) including these two which I thought went nicely with my last post.

 I also had the chance to stop by Marc's (a local discount store) where I found this...can't wait to hang it proudly in my classroom! 

Oh, and I don't think I spent over $20 all day.

Being still...

 “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him” (Psalm 37:7)

…One of my all-time favorite verses, in one of my all-time favorite chapters, of one of my all-time favorite books. Not because it fills me with warm, fuzzies every time I read it, but because it serves as the slap to the back of the head that I so often need.

This may come as a surprise (or, ok, maybe not), but I am not a patient person. I like things done my way, done in my time, please don’t interrupt, and whatever you do…

don’t make me wait!

...perhaps this explains my string of speeding tickets since moving to South Carolina… =/

When things are getting frustrating, or out-of-control, or beyond my understanding….which is at least [24 hours a day – 8 hours for sleeping] 16 times a day…I hear these words floating through the back of my mind. Sometimes, like tonight, I stop to listen…

Be – To exist or live

Still – Remaining in place or at rest

Before – In the presence of

The – Used to indicate a specific entity

Lord – Almighty, Creator, Divine, God

And – In addition to all of that we aren’t done yet

Wait – To remain inactive until something expected happens

Patiently – To bear provocation, annoyance, misfortune, delay, hardship, pain, etc., with fortitude and calm and without complaint, anger, or the like

For – The object or purpose of

Him – A pronoun referring to the proper noun “Lord”

So, I am supposed to exist or live at a place of rest in the presence of the Almighty Creator and remain inactive despite provocation, annoyance, misfortune, delay, hardship, or pain, expressing fortitude and calm without complaint or anger because whatever the situation, God, the Divine One, has already promised to make Himself known in it.

…Huh, I think that’s something I can live with.

…at least until the next time I’m following a truck going 45 on a two-lane road…

32 (now 34) years and counting...

I originally wrote this two years ago as a Facebook note, but today (my parent's 34th anniversary) I am re-posting it here...

Tomorrow (Thursday, May 28th) is my parent's 32nd wedding anniversary. While a wonderful event, it is sad that 30+ years of marriage is becoming an increasingly rare occurrence. When they met in 1977, my mom was working as a church secretary. She had the job (and I'm sure she'll correct me if I get any of this wrong) of making sure everything was prepared for the annual Valentine's Banquet. In the midst of the preparations, she made an off-hand remark to the pastor about how unfair it was that she was doing all that work and didn't even have a Valentine. Shortly afterward, the pastor asked her if she was familiar with a guy in the church named David Heinzeroth, she wasn't ...but soon would be.

One Saturday, while working in the office making sure the bulletins were ready for the next day's service, a man shows up and asks for the pastor, who isn't in. The pastor had asked the man, my father, to help move some furniture and then conveniently didn't show up himself. The only discrepancy I have ever heard in the story happened next...while they were talking, my mom had to move a box of bulletins from one place to another, somehow they all ended up on the floor and he helped to pick them up ... she says the box broke, he says she dropped them on purpose, I don't take sides. Whatever happened, it was apparently successful because not too long afterward they had their first date. 

A group was planning to attend a concert in Cleveland and then return to the church for refreshments. My mom had already committed to be part of the group staying behind to prepare things for afterward, so when asked by my dad to attend the concert she declined. He didn't take "no" for an answer and arranged for someone to take her place. They made it to Cleveland expecting to enjoy the concert, but instead ended up with a funny story. They were sitting, waiting for things to begin, when my mom received a very cold, and sticky, surprise ... the woman behind her sat down, bending at the waist, and poured her very large cup of Pepsi over my mom's head. While offered a dry seat further down the row she chose to stay next to her date and remained in the cold, sticky mess the rest of the night. 

While that story makes me laugh every time I think about it, one of my favorites happened the first Sunday my dad chose to sit with her in church. He hadn't met her family yet, but sat with her anyway (a brave, yet insane thing to do). My grandfather happened to be sitting next to a friend of his. When my dad sat down, Murph leaned over to my grandfather and asked, "Who is that guy?" To which my grandfather responded, "I don't know, but I'm certainly going to find out." That afternoon my dad was "invited" to lunch. 

My parent's "courtship" didn't last long...they met in February, married in May. In today's "date for years, live together for a decade" world of relationships, this seems doomed for failure. Somehow, in that short amount of time, they each found their best friend. After 32 years of marriage, they would rather spend time with each other than anyone else (even their kids :-/ ). After 32 years of life together - breaking into houses on their honeymoon, moving so many times I think we've all lost count, job losses, health issues and injuries, family difficulties - they haven't grown bored or discontent with each other, they have grown closer. As a child, it is a pretty awesome thing to be able to say that my parents are more in love today than they were while I was growing up. 

Three years ago, when I was approaching my 27th birthday, my mom's brothers made sure to point out to me that I was about to become an old maid because even my mom had married by then. In the three years since, I have heard more jokes about my state of singleness then I ever care to. There is a picture on my refrigerator, a knight on a white horse with a caption "It takes a mighty good husband to be better than none." That is a phrase I can easily live by, because I know that unless I am able to have the kind of marriage my parents have (not that it is perfect, and they would admit that) I don't want marriage at all. 

So, on their anniversary, while I should be giving them a gift...instead I thank them for the gifts they have given me…the opportunity to grow up with two parents who love each other deeply and are committed to each other completely. The example they have provided over the years. And, the hope that such a marriage is possible.

The Negro Burying-Ground

I came across the following poem while doing even more reading/research for my paper. Some of the way things are said would not currently be considered politically-correct, but the sentiment of the poem is beautiful. 

To give you the context, a student at one of the schools operated as part of the Port Royal Experiment got sick and died on Sunday. Monday evening people begin to gather for the burial service and as they are waiting the children, with their school books in hand, begin to the A, B, C's over and over again until the service begins.

The Negro Burying-Ground

William C. Gannett

‘Mid the sunny fist of the cotton-field

Lies an acre of forest-tangle still;

A cloister of dim, where the grey moss waves

And the live-oaks lock their arms at will.

Here in the shadows the slaves would hide

As they dropped the hoe at death’s release,

And leave no sign but a sinking mound

To show where they passed on their way to peace.

This was the Gate – there was none but this –

To a Happy Land where men were men;

And the dusky fugitives, one by one,

Stole in from the bruise of the prison-pen.

When, lo! In the distance boomed the guns,

The bruise was over, and “Massa” had fled!

But Death is the “Massa” that never flees,

And still to the oaks they bore the dead.

‘T was at set of sun; a tattered troop

Of children circled a little grave,

Chanting an anthem rich in its peace

As ever pealed in cathedral-cave, --

The A, B, C, that the lips below

Had learnt with them in the school to shout.

Over and over they sung it slow,

Crooning a mystic meaning out.

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, --

Down solemn alphabets they swept:

The oaks leaned close, the moon swung low, --

What strange new sound among them crept?

The holiest hymn that the children knew!

‘T was dreams come real, and heaven come near;

‘T was light, and liberty, and joy,

And “white-folks’ sense,” –and God right here!

Over and over; they dimly felt

This was the charm could make black white,

This was the secret of “Massa’s” pride,

And this, unknown, make the negro’s night.

What could they sing of braver cheer

To speed on his unseen way the friend?

The children were facing the mystery Death

With the deepest prayer that their hearts could send.

Children, too, and the mysteries last!

We are but comrades with them there, --

Stammering over a meaning vast,

Crooning our guesses of how and where.

But the children were right with their A, B, C;

In our stammering guess so much we say!

The singers were happy, and so were we:

Deep as our wants are the prayers we pray.