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.