worn.

word of the day: worn [wohrn] a) diminished in value or usefulness through wear, use, or handling b) wearied; exhausted.

If you haven't yet read this post yet,  you probably should before reading further.

It feels like everything has come full circle.  I left my room how I found it a year ago before turning it into a classroom.  It's no longer shiny and new, but worn and well-used.

Boxes pile the wall.

Walls stand bare. 

Shelves sit empty. 

And now, here I sit, on Trinity's campus in Illinois.  It seems fitting to reflect upon the past year here, where it really all began.  Again, full circle. 

People keep asking me how my first year of teaching went.  The only really honest answer I can give them is, "It was really hard."  

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change the past year for anything.  I'm lucky enough to have a job that allows me to impact the lives of teenagers on a daily basis.  I'm lucky enough to have a job that changes daily, throws new challenges in my path, and always gives me something to look forward to.  I'm lucky enough to have a job that I love. 

But still, that doesn't change the fact that this year was really hard. 

I'm worn in more ways than one.  I'm worn in the sense that I now have one year of teaching under my belt.  I made it through the curriculum, the tests, and the endless amounts of papers and paragraphs I found myself reading.  I'm worn because I've now been through the system on the other end.  I've seen the ins and outs of how it works to be a teacher and have experienced the things you never see when you're on the student side of things. 

I'm also worn in the sense that I'm exhausted.  Teaching is no 9 to 5 job.  In fact, I'd say it's more like a 24/7 kind of job because there were very few days or nights that school wasn't on my mind.   Sometimes it was the stress of not feeling prepared for the next day or finishing a lesson plan at 9:30 p.m.  Sometimes it was the stress of having 153 papers to grade or feeling behind in updating my grade book.  Sometimes it was the stress of feeling like I mismanaged a behavioral situation or misspoke to a student about who knows what.  Sometimes, in all honesty, it was the stress of feeling like I just couldn't do it.  Like I wasn't cut out for it.  Like I didn't really have any idea what I was doing.

And, really, sometimes I didn't, but that's just between you and me...

Time was a constant theme this past year because I felt like I never had enough of it.  School consumed so much of my life that my relationships got pushed to the back burner.  I never lost sight of the fact that they were there, but there was a steady whistle in my ear telling me that they were ready to be moved from high heat. 

Jake, when you read this, know that I couldn't have made it through this year without your patience, honesty, and support.  For all the times I cried for no apparent reason, you comforted me and affirmed me. You encouraged me and reminded me of where my focus should be.  I know this year wasn't easy for you either, and I'm thankful for your constant presence. 

This summer is already glorious.  Yesterday, I woke up at 10:00 a.m. because there was nothing I had to wake up for.  Last night I read 45 pages of a book that I want to read for no other reason than I want to read it.  Today, I can go through the day without thinking of all the things I "should probably be doing". 

Glorious.

But, let me tell you, I am already looking forward to getting back into it in August.  I think the wear ultimately manifests itself into wisdom, and I already see how much better I'm going to be at all of this next year.  The challenges will all still exist, but it's enough for me to know that I'm exactly where God wants me right now. 

And, even if that wasn't good enough, I get to take a new classroom and turn it from bare to shiny all over again.  Now that's just flat out fun.

Happy summer!

bloom.

word of the day: bloom \ˈblüm\ a : to produce or yield flowers b: to mature into achievement of one's potential

Our front yard has a dandelion field. I'm not talking about the occasional weed here and there, either.  I'm talking about a steady stream of yellow when they are all in bloom.

Can you tell the difference between the regular grass and the dandelion grass?  Jake and I have actually been pretty fascinated with the dandelion field lately.  Yesterday, when we left our house in the morning, the weeds were all yellow.  In fact, the strip you see above was more yellow than green.  When we drove past again in the evening, they had all turned white.  This morning, when Jake left to set up for church, same thing.  Yellow when he left, white when he came home an hour later.

Here's a close up from this evening.  The cycle continues.  It's about time we had a splash of color around here, really.  The blooms seem to be a little delayed this Spring for some reason.  Not today though.  The trees waved their green tips, the grass grew in vibrancy, and the sky smiled its clear blue smile.  Spring is here.  

It seemed only fitting to have such a beautiful day for Mother's Day.  And, as I thought about the continual cycle of dandelion growth, I was reminded of the hundreds of thousands of ways my mom has helped me "bloom" along the way.  

 For example, on my last day of fifth grade, my friends and I all walked to school.  I think this was a big step of independence for us.  We didn't need a bus or a mini-van; we could get to school on our own accord.  My mom took our picture before the maiden voyage.  She encouraged the growth.  It was only later that I learned she hopped in her mini-van and followed us...

One of my favorite pictures ever.

Towards the end of eighth grade, my dad broke the news to me that I would be transferring schools the following year.  As my mom destroyed my eighth grade formal up-do, I sat on the carpet silently crying.  She didn't say anything either.  I think she just knew that I needed to cry.  She knew that growth would come, but she didn't push it.  She rubbed my back and validated my sadness.  

 My senior year of high school, my mom wrote me 30 letters and put them together in a book for my graduation.  She told me she was proud of me, that I was beautiful, and that I was a rare treasure.  She rejoiced in my successes and told me there would be a void in their house without me.  She affirmed the growth she had seen in my already, but encouraged that which was still to come.

Mom- you rocked the bowl-cut.

My junior year of college, my mom and sister drove with me to Chicago to help move me back into the dorms at Trinity.  At the time, my relationship with Jake was very new and I didn't want my mom hanging around with all my friends.  I can remember telling her that I didn't even want her to come with me in the first place.  That I could do it on my own.  That I didn't need her help.  I know that I hurt her that night, but she didn't fight me.  She left and came back the next day like nothing was wrong.  She forgave me despite my harshness. If I could take back those words, I would, but I grew that weekend because of her graciousness.

All along the way, my mom has understood me.  She embraces my strengths, encourages me to move past my fears, and speaks to my weaknesses.  In one of her senior year letters she noted, "You're a unique combination of confidence.  You avoid confrontation and anything that draws attention to yourself, yet I routinely see you step out confidently on your own.  You are interesting to watch in this area." 

Spot on, really.  She gets me.  And today, that's what I find myself most thankful for.  

Mom, because of how well you know me, you have helped me to bloom.

I wouldn't be who I am today without you.  For all we know, without your patience and understanding, I would still suck my thumb, ride a bike with training wheels, hit off of a tee, and drive only on back roads.  

Thank you for giving me space to be independent.  Thank you for forgiving me those times that I pushed you away.  Thank you for modeling a faith that is real.  A faith that reflects relationships and humility.  Thank you for supporting me and affirming me in every stage of my life.  I don't say it enough and can't emphasize it enough.

Mom, throughout every dandelion cycle of growth, you were there.  I will never outgrow the need for your support just as I know you will never stop encouraging me to bloom.  

Happy Mother's Day!

delightful.

word of the day: delightful \di-līt-fəl\ highly pleasing


I happen to think that “delightful” is a highly underused word. I was thinking about it today, in fact. Why would you say anything is just plain ol’ good when you could say it is delightful?


Beats me, really. Delightful is a delightful word.

I was thinking about the word today because today really was delightful.


It smelled like Spring today. Jake and I went on a walk and the air was full of freshly cut grass and fertilizer: two signs that spring is close to being here for good.

Delightful.

My mom’s hostas are peeking through the soil in her front yard and the daffodils are blooming at our neighbor’s house.

Delightful

The sun was flat out shining today.

Delightful.

It was annual throw-your-junk-on-the-curb-for-people-to-drive-by-and-pick-up night in our town. I have vivid memories of people driving trucks already full of junk to our house on said night when I was a little kid and adding more junk to the back. Well, needless to say, Jake and I have two new lawn chairs, a ladder, a trash can, a fire pit, and a giant deck umbrella (although the latter two are for some dear friends who apparently needed somebody else’s junk too). Hey, I guess one man’s junk really is another man’s treasure.

Delightful. or something…

We had a delightful morning at church, a delightful Easter brunch with our family, and a delightfully authentic conversation following. Now if only the sun would decide to keep on shining tomorrow…

I stumbled across my last year’s Easter musings and decided that I don’t think there’s anything more to say about the matter. It’s like I always tell my kids: sometimes less is more.

So, here’s to a delightful week. May you find treasure amidst the junk.

center.

word of the day: center \ˈsen-tər\

noun: a point, area, person, or thing that is most important or pivotal in relation to an indicated activity, interest, or condition

verb: to give a central focus or basis

One of my students asked me an interesting question yesterday.  He wanted to know whether or not people in the Middle East refer to the current year as 2011.  What he was really wondering though was if Islamic nations refer to years by B.C./A.D. labels.  It was a good question that I didn't have an answer to.

But then he asked another question. 

"Why is the way we measure years centered around just one guy?"

The irony of the question didn't strike me until I really thought about it last night.  To this particular student, Jesus was nothing more than a historical figure.  Someone who was born, someone who did some cool things, and someone who died.  End of story.  If only this particular student knew that that's not actually where the story ends.  If only he knew that Jesus wasn't "just one guy".  If only He knew that Jesus isn't just the center of time but the center of everything.

If only he knew.

I know that Christ is the noun kind of center.  He's pivotal in relation to everything else. 

I also know that it is my responsibility to place Him at the center.  Knowing only goes so far before the verb has to take over.  Faith requires action, and that's something that seems to be a common lesson in my life right now.  

Easter is usually about reflection for me.  I ponder what Christ did for me.  I grimace at the thought of His pain and reflect upon how His resurrection has affected my life.  Then Easter passes and I stop thinking about it because the Easter lilies are taken off the display shelves in Hy-Vee and the brightly colored eggs are changed to flags because that’s the next holiday in tow. 

I’d like this Easter to be about more.  I’d like to remember Christ at the center, but I’d also like to do something about it.  I’d like to turn a noun into a verb.  I’d like to travel back in time to tell my student that it makes perfect sense that time is centered around Jesus. 

He’s that important.  Happy Easter!

benefit

word of the day: benefit \ˈbe-nə-ˌfit\

noun: an entertainment or social event to raise funds for a person or cause

verb: to be useful or profitable to

We went to the noun kind of benefit on Friday at my high school alma mater: Des Moines Christian School.  A couple of months ago the Development Director called and asked me if I would be willing to recruit some fellow '04 graduates to fill up a table and speak highly about our experience should anyone ask.  Sounded like an excuse for a good time, so I happily agreed. 

There were ten of us total: Five graduates and five significant others, although to the naked eye, I'm not sure you could tell the difference between the two.  

 The last time I went to a DMC benefit I was in high school, so between refilling glasses of iced tea and singing on stage with the show choir, I never actually sat through an entire program.  I'm happy to say that I now have. 

It chokes my throat all up to be in a place where God is clearly at the forefront.  A place where first graders proudly recite Romans.  A place where an eleventh grader speaks honestly about how her life is being shaped by her faith.  A place where Tom Sawyer takes Christian overtones, staff members speak about convictions, and premiere parking spots auction off for $4200. 

The noun kind of benefit has then reminded me of the verb kind of benefit. And you know how I feel about those words with multiple meanings.

What a useful and profitable experience I had in high school. 

It's useful in the way that it taught me to think.  I am convinced that I am a more well-rounded thinker because of the way my worldview was shaped in high school. 

It's profitable in a way that has nothing to do with money.  My life has been benefited by the people who continue to influence my life even today. 

For one reason or another, God has chosen to bless me with really great friends in every season of life and for that, I will forever be thankful.

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On a totally unrelated note, I had quite the "Give a Mouse a Cookie" Saturday yesterday.  You know the kind.  

If you wake up with every intention of going the gym, you will realize upon waking how horrifyingly disgusting your shower is (I don't use those adjectives lightly).  

So, you roll up your pants, grab the rubber gloves, and scrub the heck out of the tile with a bowl of hot water and bleach.  

Then, you figure, that since you're already wearing rubber gloves and already have a bleach stain on your pants, you might as well clean the sink and toilet.

Well, you can't very well clean only one counter in the house, so you move to the kitchen table and clear the clutter.  

As you go to grab the Pledge to dust off the table, you notice the bottle of Pine Sol in the back of the cabinet.  Upon inspection, you read "Great for floors!" and wonder why you wouldn't spend time hand washing all the tile floors.  

As you're on hands and knees washing and humming softly "Sing, Sweet Nightingale," you're bound to notice the smudges on the mirrors and windows.  

As you wash the bathroom mirror (the last in the house), you remember looking in the same mirror 2 hours earlier with every intention of going to the gym.  

Then you look in the shower you also cleaned 2 hours earlier and decide that's much more inviting. 

Moral of the story?  Having a clean house is nice.

support.

word of the day: support \sə-ˈport\ to endure bravely or quietly; assist; help

I saw support personified this weekend.  I tasted its sweetness on my tongue.  I heard it in song and smelled its very presence.  This weekend support came in many forms. 

Support brought an endless amounts of food to my Aunt Becky's table.  The crock pots overfloweth and the meat and cheese trays kept replenishing themselves.  Support tasted like sweet pickles and maple pastries (although I wouldn't suggest putting the two together). 

Support spoke softly and unselfishly; it sang sweetly and confidently. 

Support sent beautiful arrangements of flowers from hundreds of miles away.  Today support smelled of lilies, carnations, daisies, and the occasional tulip.  

I didn't think I would be very emotional at my grandmother's funeral.  The end of her life was marked with much suffering because of Alzheimer's, and so, with death came great healing.  In addition, when someone you love goes through the process of Alzheimer's, you grieve along the way.  It hasn't been grandma for a long time, so I didn't really feel the need to mourn her death.  

Then support entered the scene.  He flew in and out of the scene so seamlessly that you almost didn't notice him.  He smiled at you quietly, refilled the cooler of pop, and dropped off a delicious fruit salad (complete with pineapple).  He touched your shoulder, poured you a cup of coffee, and went completely out of his way to let you know you were cared for.  Completely out of his way.

That's what gets me.  The support I mean.  My family was surrounded by people who cared unselfishly this weekend and to be on the receiving end of that is a humbling experience. 

But as I watched the slide show honoring my grandma's life, I realized that support has been there all along regardless of how noticeable his presence may have been.  Throughout the various pictures, support came in the form of aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, cousins, great-grand babies, and the cousins of cousins who really seem to be regular cousins anyways.  

Today I was reminded of the fact that support and family are interchangeable.  They are one in the same in the way they endure life both bravely and quietly.  Today I was reminded of how sweet my extended family is and I believe much of that can be attributed to how much my grandma valued family.  Family gatherings were many when I was young and they always centered around whatever my grandma had to offer.  Which usually came in the form of obstacle courses, sewing machines, and the hot tub that used to sit in her sun room.  

My family rejoiced in my grandma's death today because death isn't the end of the story.  Alzheimer's no longer attacks her body.  She has been restored.  Healed.  Rejuvenated.  Today my grandma lives. 

And today I learn another lesson in love.  A lesson that helps me to appreciate the family God has blessed me with and reminds me to support the people in my life who need supporting.  Because, good grief, when your friends from Iowa send flowers to your family all the way in Ohio, you feel pretty darn loved.

My cousin Michael shared a hymn today in his memories about my grandma.  It's reflective of her relationship with Christ and I can't stop thinking about its theme.

If God leads you to walk
A way that you know,
It will not benefit you as much as
If He would lead you to take the way
That you do not know.
This forces you to have
Hundreds and thousands of
Conversations with Him,
Resulting in a journey that is an
Everlasting memorial
Between you and Him.

May he lead us down roads we do not know so that we can grow from conversations with Him and learn from the support we receive along the way.  I think my grandma understood that very well, and I'm thankful that she set that example for us.  The journey our family takes is sweeter because of it.

milestone.

word of the day: milestone \ˈmī(-ə)l-ˌstōn\ a significant point in development

As of yesterday, this blog has been in existence for one year. And, as someone who is infamous for not following through with things, I feel as though that is a pretty good statistic.  (Remember when I said I was going to hula-hoop every day?  Yeah right.)

Anyways, being the nostalgic sap that I am, for the past few weeks I've been reading over my blog's history.  And with this milestone in mind, I realized that some others have been hit even since this blog was born.  We adopted Ginny and celebrated our second wedding anniversary  I started my career as a teacher and Jake received his acceptance into medical school.  For the Flinkmans the milestones have been many in this past year.  

In addition, I feel as though I have also reached a milestone in my faith.  A significant point in development in my relationship with God.  A point at which I feel called to take steps forward despite the questions that continue to linger in the back of my mind.

Recently I heard a sermon preached out of the book of James on conflict, and as one who generally shudders at the thought of any form of argument, it especially hit home for me.  However, the main thing I took away from the sermon didn't really have much to do with conflict itself.  The pastor focused his sermon on James 4:

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. 

As he read, the following words stood out to me: submit, resist, come near, wash, purify, grieve, mourn, wail, change, and humble. 

That's right all you English grammar nuts.  Verbs.  In that moment, I suddenly realized that I had been feeling disconnected from God because I was living a life of inaction and passivity.  The verbs required of me were collecting dust on the shelf. 

My train of thought quickly took me back to a passage I remembered reading in Forgotten God by Francis Chan: 

You are most likely familiar with the 'fruit passage' in Galations 5, which says, ' But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law'. You may even have the list memorized.  But look over those traits right now and ask yourself if you possess each to a supernatural degree.  Do you exhibit more kindness and faithfulness than the Mormons you know?  Do you have more self-control than your Muslim friends? More peace than Buddhists?  More joy than atheists?  If GOD truly lives in you, shouldn't you expect to be different from everyone else? (146)

At that point, I remembered my chalkboard dream and realized that my commitment to love more faithfully had dwindled almost as quickly as my dedication to the hula-hoop.  I had succumbed to inaction.  I had loved halfheartedly, cared lackadaisically, and prayed dispassionately.  

I am called to live a radically different life; although, I'm not entirely sure what that looks like yet.

And so I begin a new journey that will ultimately bring me to new milestones.  A new journey that asks me to live a life of action and commitment despite the roadblocks that I find in my way.

A journey that I hope to be unexplainable without the Holy Spirit (Chan 142)

A journey that, if you read this blog for another year, you will no doubt become very familiar with.

Chan, Francis, and Danae Yankoski. Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit. Colorado Springs, CO: David C. Cook, 2009. Print.