cast.

word of the day: cast \ˈkast\ 

verb: to cause to move or send forth by throwing

noun: a rigid casing used for immobilizing a usually diseased or broken part 

You know how I love words with multiple meanings.  Cast is a funny one because it can mean movement or it can immobilization.  Here's some real life word irony for you...

Above you see cast as a verb.  Unfortunately I don't have a great picture of Jake doing a flip on the wake-board.  He does a mean flip, and really, that's movement by throwing in its finest sense of the word.

  Have you ever noticed how sometimes when you cast something forward it doesn't land as it should?  So Jake landed his last wake-boarding flip of the season.  

 And so Jake found himself at the doctor's office so he could be immobilized for at least four weeks.

I suppose it's not all bad, though.

 Lucky for Jake, I don't do much.  So, I have officially added "doting over Jake" to my to-do list, and he is now free to cast his cares upon me as he spends the rest of his summer doing basically what you see above.

Crossing our fingers the cast comes off by Mexico!  

list.

word of the day: list \ˈlist\ things to be checked or done.

It should be a well known fact by now that I am a lover of lists.  I don't think a day of school went by this past year that my desk was sans post-it note list (see how much better sentences are with 'sans'?).  

I tried to do summer sans lists too, but let's face it, that's just not me.  So, last week I broke down, made two to-do lists, and taped them to my refrigerator.  

In my case, you will see that color-coordinated, categorized lists are a must.  As you will also see, I have already checked off two boxes in a mere four days since the lists were created.  The main thing that side tracks me from to-do lists though?  Books.  And I have finished a few more in the last few weeks.

Room by Emma Donoghue

This is a heavy book.  While very well written, it feels a little off to say that I liked it.  Truth be told, it was very disturbing, but I couldn't put it down.  The story is narrated by Jack, a 5-year-old, who is born into 'room'.  His mother was abducted before he is born and so all he knows are the walls inside his eleven by eleven foot prison.  To Jack, though, his world is everything it should be and that's what makes his perspective so fascinating.

 The Peach Keeper by Sarah Addison Allen

I made a glorious discovery the other day.  Public libraries give you the option of checking out e-books straight to your e-reader.  Brilliant.  Last Saturday, I had every intention of checking a few boxes off of my to-do lists, but instead I sat down on my couch and read this book cover to cover.  The irony is that I wouldn't necessarily recommend it.  Allen's writing style wasn't my favorite, and although I got caught up in the story, I don't think I'll check out any more of her books. 

On a slightly related note, I went to see Water for Elephants in the theater this past weekend and can say, for the first time in my life, that I actually enjoyed the movie better than I enjoyed the book.  Go figure.

I suppose it's also worth saying that I went to see the aforementioned movie alone which is a new pastime I enjoy very much.  I checked that item off the bucket list in May when Jake was in Chicago for his brother's graduation.  When I told my 9th graders I had seen a movie alone, here were a few of the common responses:

Seriously?  WHY?
Didn't you invite anyone to come with you?
Didn't you feel like a loser?
Weren't you embarrassed sitting in the theater by yourself? 

 You had better believe that I held my ground against the persecution.  Going to movies alone rocks. If you've never done it, you really should.

Well, the to-do lists are calling.  The folded laundry on my coffee table is pleading to be put away and the cold pasta on my stove is announcing its stiffness.  Mostly though, I think it's looking forward to taking residence inside a very clean refrigerator.

Before I go though--Happy Anniversary, Timmy and Kelly.  You guys are the best! And by the best, I mean I'm not sure what we would do without you.

 

 Can you believe this is the best picture I have of the two of you from your wedding?  That's embarrassing.  I'll make it up to you with some really great pictures in Mexico.  :)

forgotten.

word of the day: forgotten \fər-ˈget, for-\ to treat with inattention or disregard; to give up hope for or expectation of; to fail to become mindful at the proper time

Our small group just finished reading the book Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit by Francis Chan.  Chan suggests that in looking at the Trinity, Christians often overlook the presence of the Spirit.  I fall into that category not because I don't believe in the Holy Spirit, but because I don't think I have ever fully understood the Holy Spirit.

This book is transforming my perspective on the purpose of my life.  I'm still trying to figure out exactly what this message means for me, and to help me in my processing, I'm going to share with you some of pieces from his book that stand out to me as especially profound.  Like usual, this is more for me than it is for you.  :)

One concern I've often heard (and felt) is, what if I pray for the Holy Spirit and nothing happens?  What if I ask for more of the Spirit's fruit in my life and don't see any apparent "results"?...I think the fear of God failing us leads us to "cover for God." This means we ask for less, expect less, and are satisfied with less because we are afraid to ask for or expect more...I can't imagine how much it pains God to see His children hold back from relationship with the Holy Spirit out of fear that he won't come through (47-48).

 When the Holy Spirit truly moves, God is the one praised...Let's pray that God would empower us so radically that we would get no glory.  That people would see our works and glorify God (87).

It is true that God may have called you to be exactly where you are.  But it's absolutely vital to grasp that He didn't call you there so you could settle in and live out your life in comfort and superficial peace...If you are still alive on this planet, it's because He has something for you to do (92).

I don't want my life to be explainable without the Holy Spirit. I want people to look at my life and know that I couldn't be doing this by my own power.  I want to live in such a way that I am desperate for Him to come through (142).

 You are most likely familiar with the "fruit passage" in Galatians 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" (vv. 22-23 NIV).  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 (146).

 God wants the praise for what we do in our lives.  But if we never pray audacious, courageous prayers, how can He answer them (150)?

God continue to reminds me that my faith requires action. I can't do the work He has set out for me unless I take steps in His direction.  Chan gives an illustration about buying a treadmill then taking it back three months later only to complain that it doesn't work; you didn't lose any weight.  When the salesperson asks what's wrong with the machine, you reply that you're not sure because you never actually used it.

So are the prayers I pray passively.  The times I ask God to help me forgive a person but then take no initiative to move past my own bitterness.  The times I ask God to help me love people better but then don't act on the opportunities He provides for me.  The times I ask God to make His Spirit real to me but then just sit back and expect it to happen subconsciously.  

I am not a passive participant.  Instead, I'm asked to play an active role in the journey (128).  

It struck me that the definitions of "forgotten" all contain within them separate verbs (infinitives if you want to get especially specific): to treat with inattention, to give up hope, to fail to become mindful.  I see very clearly now that neglecting the power of the Holy Spirit in my life is a choice and not a choice I'd like to be making any longer.

For me, it starts with prayer.  Prayer that God will help me to be more aware of the Spirit's presence in my life.  That I would see more clearly the opportunities to do His work and hear more clearly His teaching.  That I would desire a life that is unexplainable without Him.

Come, Holy Spirit, come.  [I] don't know exactly what that means and looks like for [me] yet, in the particular place you've called [me] to inhabit.  But, nonetheless, whatever it means, [I] ask for Your presence.  Come, Holy Spirit, come (166).

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

noteworthy.

word of the day: noteworthy \-ˌwər-thē\ worthy of or attracting attention especially because of some special excellence

The title of this blog post is rather ironic because I feel like I really don't have anything noteworthy to say.  That seems to be a common theme in my thoughts lately.  I don't blog because I don't feel that I have anything to say that is of any "special excellence".  They are just regular old thoughts spinning around in my head.  The problem with feeling like I always have to have something significant to blog about is that I stop writing.  That's not really a problem for you so much as it is a problem for me.  I like to write.  

And so begins my quest to write more.  To sit down at my computer even if I don't have anything especially important to say.  Here goes nothing...

I won an iPad a few months ago.  The story goes that they drew my name out of a raffle for the big prize of the night.  You will notice Tess to my right with her prize of free carpet cleaning.  Obviously we were both equally thrilled.

I initially wasn't quite sure what to do with the iPad.  Unsure, that is, until I downloaded iBooks, the Nook App, and the Kindle App.  As a lover of literature, I didn't think I could make the switch to electronic books, but I am now, without question, a full convert.  Convenience beats the feel of pages through your fingertips because a mere tap of your fingertip is all it takes to turn the page.  For my fellow book junkies, here are my reviews of the first two books I read on my new toy:

Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah

I read this 500 page book in four days and cried literally the entire last 5 chapters.  I don't think I have ever become so emotionally invested in the lives of characters before.  It's long but moves quickly, and if you've ever had a best friend--it's well worth the read.  Just keep a box of tissues handy and avoid reading it in public.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

I wanted to love this book, but I just didn't.  It comes with a good story, but didn't come attached with enough character development for me.  It's hard to root for a love story when you feel fairly indifferent about the woman.  I thought what Gruen did with the Prologue was interesting and Jacob's character as an old man grew on my by the end.

I also recently finished the book Light or Darkness: Reclaiming the Light in Sports by a certain Dr. Bob Stouffer.  In case you've never heard of him, he's a pretty big deal around these parts.  It's not readily available to the public, but if you're in any way involved in sports you should contact me for your own copy.  The new philosophy proposed will change the way you play, coach, and watch. Shoot, I may even be able to get an autographed copy for you...

Jake and I ran out of food this week.  You know what I mean.  We still have food, but we ran out of the basic essentials: meat, bread, and pasta.  We realized that the aforementioned were no more on Monday the 13th but decided to see if we could make it until payday on the 20th.  I want to emphasize the fact that this was a joint decision or challenge, if you will, and not a personal refusal to go to the grocery store.  In any case, it is now Thursday and Jake and I have managed to make two pretty decent meals based upon what turns up between the cupboard, fridge, and freezer.

Wednesday: Vegetarian Tacos

Ingredients found: brown rice, taco shells (hidden in back of fridge, mind you), jalapeño pepper, onion, frozen corn, re-fried beans

Instructions: Chop onion and pepper.  Saute in extra virgin olive oil.  Stir in rice and corn.  Spread re-fried beans on taco shell and add rice mix.

Thursday: Smoked Chuck Roast and Chick Pea Rice

Ingredients found: 1/2 chuck roast (forgot about this one stowed away in the freezer), brown rice, garlic, onion, chick peas (garbanzo beans)

Instructions: Have a handy husband who smokes delicious things.  In the meantime, finely chop garlic and onion.  Saute in extra virgin olive oil.  Add chick peas to pan.  Add rice.   

  

My camera can't be trusted to take quality pictures, but you get the idea.  It's a fun game.

What else have I been thinking about?  Summer wind makes the best blow- dryer. Starbucks at dusk on a "busy" downtown Des Moines street is lovely.  I think studying for medical boards is a little more difficult with me across the table.  Izze Sparkling Blackberry is a nice compliment to the tap, tap of my computer keys.  Skorts can be cute and pearl earrings make everything feel a little fancier.  C.S. Lewis is fascinating and walks with Jake on a summer night are close to perfection.

I guess when I really sit down and think about it, there really are some noteworthy things going on.  Special excellence doesn't always refer to an extraordinary event.  Maybe it just means paying a little closer attention to the little things each day.  With that, you'll be hearing from me soon...

eudaemonic.

 word of the day: eudaemonic \yoo-dee-MAH-nik\ producing happiness

I just learned the word eudaemonic via Merriam-Webster's online dictionary.  Apparently Henry Feldman spelled it correctly to win the 1960 Scripp's National Spelling Bee.  There are two reasons why I know this: 1.) I love words enough to look them up on m-w.com and 2.) It's summer and I have time to look up random words on m-w.com. 

Summer.  It produces happiness.

I had great aspirations of blogging more over the summer, but I have found that I'm too busy doing very little to have time to blog.  Ironic isn't it?  And so, this eudaemonic blog has very little substance other than to tell you a few of things I hope to accomplish this summer.  A to-do list of sorts that is really more for me (because if I don't put them down on 'paper' I'm more apt to push them to the back-burner). 

1. Read books.  Lots of them.  I'm two books down and almost finished with my third.  That's more books read in 2 weeks than I read all of last year.

2. Relax by the pool.  I'm all over that one.  In fact, between Sunday and Wednesday, I probably spent about 12 hours poolside.  If it weren't for the incessant rain today, I'd be out there right now.

3. Paint my living room, bathroom, and kitchen.  I'm looking at rust, gray, and chalkboard, respectively.

4. Paint new paintings for my classroom and bathroom.

5. Submit a piece of writing to be published.  First on the list is Real Simple's Fourth Annual Life Lessons Essay Contest.  I wrote an essay for this last summer, but didn't make it to the submission part.  

6. Drink as many iced vanilla lattes as I can.  I also discovered McDonald’s Iced Strawberry Lemonades last week—dangerously delicious.  Darn it.

7. Cook lots of meals for Jake to make up for his lack of home-cooked meals this past year.

8. Watch So You Think You Can Dance faithfully (because it’s not summer without it).

9. Watch all seven Harry Potter movies before the final installment comes out July 15.  I had high hopes of re-reading all the books as well, but I think I’m just going to settle for re-reading The Deathly Hallows.

10.  Go to the gym at least 5 times a week.  It’s Thursday and I’ve been twice.  I’m on better terms with the treadmill now and I discovered that Pilates is a lot harder than it sounds.  

So, there you go.  If this blog gets sporadically written on (as has been the recent trend), it’s probably because I’m doing one of the above ten things.  Either that, or I’m doing absolutely nothing.  I’ve been known to do a lot of that lately too. It's all very eudaemonic.

   

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!