Well Then

Or, a not-so-well-thought-out post that just kind of rambles, because it has been over six months since I wrote anything, and anyone who still reads this likely believes that I'm dead or missing in action.

Everything is turned upside down right now because this lovely little school doesn't have kids.

So I have been here since August (well, all summer really), trying to figure out what a teacher does with nobody to teach. It's been interesting.

I visited my best friend a lot over the summer, also visited family, took a class for my certification. Got a very mischievous ginger kitty from said best friend's family. ^_^ Read new books, enjoyed them, got new plants (currently have an African violet, an aloe vera, a basil, and a viney thing). Tried to recruit kids with not a whole lot of success.

Continued to repeat that last sentence indefinitely this fall. Did finally register one child officially for the January semester--yay!! Also heard that two will not be able to come back till next fall--hrmm. :/

Created a school website, chased my (proverbial) tail in circles over various projects, some of which were accomplished and some of which weren't, and here we are at the end of September and I have received a tentative offer to do a long-term substitute position somewhere in Georgia (the level of secrecy regarding location is both amusing and frustrating, you'd think it was classified CIA information). For various reasons I said yes (with my board chair's approval) and so I sit here and wait a final decision that will launch me southward, at least for a short period.

But I did talk to one of my eighth graders from last year, just yesterday, and she is in academy and doing well and enjoying herself. Which, I like to think, she would not be if it hadn't been for what we'd been able to do last year. So it was worth it, however it turns out.

I know this time will be, too. Some things just take longer to see results than others.

Christmas Home

It's almost Christmas.

That makes twenty-three Christmases I've been through. That's a lot of holidays. A lot of "Jingle Bells" and "Silent Night." A lot of packages. A lot of readings of Luke chapter two.

And I am home for Christmas. But not really. Allow me to explain...

Once upon a time, all of us were little. And once upon a time, all of us wanted nothing more than to grow up. To be on our own. To forge our own path into the wild, beckoning, rosy world.

Then we got there. And of a sudden it wasn't so rosy any more.

Everyone tells you of the bills to pay, the job to hold down, the lack of "freedom." But those are the easy parts of growing up. Bills can be earned. Jobs can be fulfilling. Freedom is a relative thing.

Nobody told eight- or ten- or thirteen-year-old you of the pain you'd encounter. Of the friendships you'd lose. Of the times you'd want so desperately to cry--but you couldn't. Of the long walks in the woods just trying to find your heart and maybe put two pieces back together again. Of the suffocating darkness that would strike at you from every corner. Nobody told you about all that.

I'm still not sure if they didn't tell us because they didn't know--or because they didn't know how to explain--or because they'd tried so hard to forget, that they did forget...

It doesn't really matter. We're here now, and there's a part of us that desperately wants to go back, to be a child again, to go home. But we can't. There's no turning the clock back. There's no stepping backward.

What does Christmas really mean when you realize you will never be home for Christmas again? That there's not a place in this world that is your true home?

Maybe--just maybe--it's remembering that once, two thousand years ago, a Baby was born into a world. A world that, though He'd made it, would never, ever be His real home. Yet He chose to be born here, He chose to live here, He chose to die here--

So that, Someday, we could go Home. Home for Christmas. Home for eternity.

Because it wouldn't have been home for Him--without us.

Story

Bible class is always the hardest.

Oh, and I know why too. *Someone* isn't happy with any focus on the Bible or on our relationship with God. And thus it increases my prayer life, not knowing what I'm going to talk about until Friday or Sunday! ;)

This last week, praying (again) for inspiration, especially after stumbling across a revealing Bible journal entry by one of my kids, I was impressed by a thought:

Story, Bri. 

What story? I don't have stories.

Sure you do. 

THOSE stories? Oh my kids love stories. They don't care what it's about either. The magic words "I'm going to tell you a story..." get them all quiet and staring rapturously, no matter how uninteresting the story itself might be. But...really God?

Those stories.

 On my walk, I started thinking...God redeems everything. Every fall, every stumble, every pain and tear shed. And He has wired our hearts and souls for hearing stories. Even His Word is primarily stories. Perhaps story--our story--our testimony of His faithfulness--is the primary way He redeems the past.

So why should we be reluctant to tell, even though it may be raw and unpolished and stumbling? Why should I hesitate to share how He has worked and is working, even if it isn't "amazing"? Maybe, just maybe, the common everyday life stories of God's little and big providences are what we are missing.

Maybe, just maybe, some more of them should be told.

What's your story today?
What's mine?

What It Means

"Still Path"

"What does following in God's steps mean to you? And what happens when you do follow in His steps?"

Good questions, dear friend. I've been pondering them all week.

And as I sit here at the near-end of a week of rain, listening to music to fill the silence in my empty house, worn from a week of late nights and early mornings, trying not to think about how I miss my friends, overwhelmed with a hundred responsibilities, it's a little hard to see the light as I usually do. But I can say one thing with confidence.

For me, following God's steps means two words. Or actually, four:

Caring more. For healing.

More than is comfortable. More than is convenient. More than is necessary. More than others have. More than others will, or could, or should.

And yet, just caring isn't enough. You can care, and break. You can care, and wound. Horribly. And then it is better not to care at all.

So true caring must be always focused on healing. And that means receiving everything--every heartthrob, every touch on the shoulder, every smile, every tear, every note on the to-do list, every e-mail, every meeting, everything--from the ultimate Healer. Because as people, we are the Wounded. And without Him, we wound.

But praise God, with Him, we can heal.

What happens when I follow? Loneliness. Exhaustion. Emptiness. Sure. You read my third paragraph. But so much more. So much more. When they don't fill (because they never do), He does. Sunsets and stars. Full moons and foggy mornings. Flowers in the fields. Cool breezes. Storms sweeping down across the lake. Thunder and rain. So much beauty it literally hurts. Richness.

And, ultimately, a dream of the certain Victory to come. That's what it means.

IRL: Triumphs

There are days when I just love being a teacher.

Days when I go to church and get hugs from my kids and words of affirmation and encouragement from families.

Days when our Bible class is filled with questions and searching and going back to the Word for answers.

Days when my six kiddos are sprawled in the window seats reading their Bibles (for some of them, it's probably their first time having personal worship every day), and the sun streams in, and piano music floats in the background, and for a moment all is quiet.

Days when they get ridiculously excited about our lesson on a strong literary character.

Days when I bring a problem to them for class discussion and they solve it themselves (with a little help).

Days when I watch them get involved at church and my heart swells with joy as if I were their parent, not "just" their teacher.

Discouragement is one of my biggest setbacks--and it's something the devil throws at me almost daily. And so I hoard up these moments and days and look back on them.

"But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High." (Ps. 77:10)

Day Breaks

The sky is pink and orange over the eastern horizon.

I lean against the window seat and watch it. There's a moment of stillness in the hectic pace of life. The color shifts and fades and grows again, almost alive.

A thousand heart-stirrings surge inside. Someday I will have to leave this place. And though I love it here, I hope I leave soon.

Not for another school. Not for a marriage or for another job. Someday soon, I hope to leave because I'm not allowed to be here longer. Because only a short time after that, I'll stand and watch another sun rise. Watch a day break in which I know there'll be no end.

Soon, He will come. And the sunrise won't compare.

Oh, may the Day break soon.

But in the meantime, may it break in my heart every morning, as I watch the sun rise.

Passing of the Torch

Source

My heart flutters a little as I walk up the steps, raise my hand to ring the bell--and the giant door opens and he is standing there.

"Good--good morning, sir."

He is not the man I remember... not that I expected him to be. The ravages of illness do that to you. His face is white and lined, the eyes show pain, though a strange light still shines behind it all. I tear my eyes away. It is not polite to stare at your elders.

"Ah, Briana. Come in." 

He has waited there for me. I know, though he does not say so. Does he also anticipate this meeting? 

I step through the door; he closes it softly behind. My feet sink into the carpeting. He insists that I precede him down the hall, though I rather would not. His steps are slow, painful. I drop into a chair, more so that he will rest than for any other reason. He takes the one opposite.

We speak of small things, of teaching and of moving and of life. Of horses. He tells me how he always wanted to learn to ride. (There are more sides to this man than I ever dreamed.)

In time I hand him the letter I wrote last week. The letter that tries (unsuccessfully) to put into words what I have learned from him. It is long. Maybe too long. I watch as he reads it. Ever the consummate teacher, he comments on a word here, a phrase there. I smile. As he gets further in, the comments slow. 

"You were considering. . . ? Many people are. They just don't know what it's called."

"Ah yes. It was all God."

"Mmm. Yes."

He nods. Brushes something from his eye. Folds the letter and puts it back in the envelope. I let a smile flicker quickly across my face. We go on to speak of other small things. 

An hour passes and I must go. It is too long to stay. Yet I know what I have come here for. And as we rise and go to the door, I know it is now.

"May I pray with you." It is a statement, not a question, and I nod, bow my head. We clasp hands and the coldness of his hand is warm. His prayer is a blessing--a benediction. As his life has been, and is.

I remain with head bowed after we say Amen. Then I lift my eyes and meet his. The light--the fire--still burns there. It will continue till life itself is gone. But I know it has passed to me as well.

"We will meet again. May it be soon." 

The torch is in my arms. From this day forward, I carry it on. 

Evening Star

Dusk.

Sun slowly glides behind distant mountains. Thunderheads glow orange, then pink, then only the edges are highlighted gold.

Tires whir on the road. A car passes. Another. Blinker clicks and I glide to the left. A moment later, back to the right. Signs flash by. The highway twists and turns.

Sometimes I could believe the walls around my heart are real. Like tonight. I can almost feel them sliding up from where they've been hidden all day. The scattered tears dry on my cheeks and the glass doors close inside; the locks click into place. I brush a hand across my face. Keep my eyes on the winding road.

Dusk gives way to dark.

Half-moon appears in the sky, as if by magic. Evening star hangs low ahead.

Why do you come here? I ask it silently. Why do you bother?

Yet I know the answer. It comes for the same reason I return. Perhaps it, too, longs to stay in the safety of some far-away mountain. Perhaps it, too, aches with loneliness after a glimpse of what it no longer has.

But we are called here by One greater than ourselves. And so we come. We shine. And we wait for the morning.

IRL: Absentia

Trail at a nearby state park

Well, I'm here now.

And mostly unpacked.

Actually pretty much all unpacked.

And dealing with a serious case of writers' block. In case you couldn't tell. ;)

Getting ready for school, visiting friends (and having friends visit), working out a routine for the hundred-and-ten things you suddenly have to do when you're living by yourself, and generally trying to be an adult--it's all filling up my days.

But I am slowly but surely getting some ideas for blog posts. So hopefully I will be back sooner rather than later. :)

Oh, How He Loves

We meet "virtually" at the end of a long week--she walking along a creek in the rain, I sitting atop a warm rock in the sun (by another little creek). Almost 200 miles apart, but still beside each other in heart. Sisterhood is like that.

It's been a week full of joy and full of sorrow, for both of us. Full of the joy of serving, of giving unashamedly, of pouring into other lives. Full of sorrow from others' pain, of staggering under the hundred-ton weight of someone else's hurt. Sometimes second-hand sorrow is hardest to bear.

We share (much-abbreviated) prayer requests and though we laugh at each other and with each other, our hearts break for each other and for our friends. People I haven't even met set my heart throbbing, make me close my eyes as if to try to block out the agonizing reality of the darkness that has set itself against them. I ache to wrap my arms around each one, hold them tight, tell them You ARE loved. YOU are loved. HE loves you--and through the darkness, through the pain--He'll never, ever let you go.

And that night as I go home, half-reeling from the overwhelming need to be loved that resounds through the hearts of this broken, pain-throbbing world, I can't help but think, this must be a glimpse into the heart of God.

'Cause if I love these people so much--people I've never or only barely met--how much more must He love each one of them and each one of us--His children--when He knows so deeply and so intimately?

Wow.

"Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!" (1 Jn. 3:1)

IRL: Summer Begins

• Quiet days at the office...
• Reading Pilgrim's Progress, Hinds' Feet on High Places, Captivating, and To Kill a Mockingbird...
• Long-distance book clubs...
• Arranging new songs...
• Google Hangouts with friends...
• Beautiful new lyrics stuck in my head all day...
• Honeysuckle and privet-scented nights...
• Catching up and talking with little brothers and friends...
• Planning a weekend trip to my "new home" to order books, have meetings with the pastor, meet (even more) people, and start getting ready for July...
• Poetry
• Music
• Delighted with others' joy :)
• Solo hikes in the rain
• Thunderstorms

"There are different kinds of happiness," she said. "There is an exuberant happiness, that comes bubbling up and bubbling out--like Old Faithful. And there's a quiet happiness, like when you're hiking with your family at 5,000 feet. And there's a bittersweet happiness, missing the old and being grateful for it, standing alone in the rain, driving by yourself across the mountains. But they're all happiness. All to be embraced."

Other Side of Chivalry

"UGH!"

She stomps her foot and crosses her arms and scowls. Seventh-graders haven't yet mastered the art of the death glare, but they're getting close. Especially this one.

He looks at her with a crooked smile and doesn't say anything (he's smart). With an exaggerated sigh, she flings her arms to her sides petulantly and stomps . . . through the door.

He grins and waits for me to go through and closes it behind us.

"He's trying to be a gentleman, M," I smile; "let him do it."

And they say chivalry is dead. Girls say chivalry's dead. Are we the ones who've killed it?

I find this definition when I look up "chivalry": "the combination of qualities expected of an ideal knight, especially courage, honor, courtesy, justice, and a readiness to help the weak."

I don't think girls really mind courage or justice, or even honor--look at the popular movies and books and you know we like those things. But it's that "courtesy" thing, especially because courtesy ties precisely to the last item in that list: "a readiness to help the weak," that gets us.

God made people to be strong. He made guys to be strong. He made girls to be strong too. Look at the women in the Bible and you see strength all over the place. Eve, Deborah, Esther, Jael . . . these women are no pushovers. And we, as their daughters, want to be strong. We want to be the warrior princess of the story. And our culture pushes that even harder. Women must be "empowered"; we must be tough and strong and not give in to anything. Especially men.

We say this--we do this--partly because strength is built into us, and partly because we are afraid. The strength part is good. The fear part is not. Because fear always makes a fake hardness, a brittle china sort of toughness that isn't at all tough. Instead, it breaks and cuts.

What are we afraid of? It probably depends to a degree on the individual girl, but I'd say there's one thing that carries through us all: We are afraid of being hurt.

"But I'm not hurting you!" the poor guy protests. "I'm being nice to you!"

Yeah, you are. But you are also, even in one small way, making me dependent on another person. You. I'm depending on you to hold that door for 30 seconds and not let it smash back in my face. I'm depending on you to hand those fallen books back and not toss them away just to spite me. I'm depending on you to not cut in front of me in line. Little things, yeah, but I'm depending on you. And that is a terrifying place to be. Most girls have been let down enough little or big times (even by seventh grade) that we're gun-shy of any kind of dependence.

Maybe it's a scary place for you too, gentleman at the door. Maybe it's not. I don't know. But if you want to make it better, what do you do?

Keep doing what you're doing. Try to be patient. Try to be a little bit nicely stubborn--sometimes that's what it takes. But don't just be a gentleman when it comes to holding doors or picking up books or letting me go first in the potluck line. Be dependable other places too. Build my trust. I don't care if I'm not and never will be your girlfriend. We all need to build trust--you, and me, and my seventh- and eighth-graders, and all of us.

Girls? That's a whole different post. But try to see the true strength behind accepting courtesy. It takes a lot more strength to graciously accept an offer that makes you momentarily dependent on another, than it does to bull your way through alone. Remember that. And act on it.

If we want chivalry, we can't refuse it. If we want kindness, we can't put it down. If we want to be open and true with each other, we must move past that fear that cuts.

Teacher Diaries: New Journey

Yesterday and Friday found me up at my new community/church/school! Spent Friday looking around for apartments and possible places for my horse, and then yesterday was Sabbath School, church, and potluck.

It was really a great weekend--overwhelming sometimes and exhausting for the introvert who met what seems like a hundred new people, but great! The church members are really wonderful, very friendly and welcoming. I could hardly have a conversation without at least three other people coming up to say hello and welcome! Beautiful little active church, a healthy growing school and active homeschool community :) . I'm excited. God is doing big things there and I'm grateful He's given me the chance to be part of it!

It will be a big shift for sure as I transition. I've never lived away from home before, so it's all kind of happening at once. ;) But it's still fairly close which is a big positive. I can come down to visit home on a weekend or my family can come up. Friends can come up from university too, if they want to.

Life feels like it's duly in an uproar right now! Decisions--ah I hate decisions and there are about a thousand just waiting in the wings! But I know God's got His hand in this and He'll bring me through. That's what I'm holding on to. :)

First Placement Done!

Well my first student teaching placement is done!

The kids all made me cards Friday and I got hugged to death multiple times and had several offers to be kidnapped and hauled away to various students' closets/basements/etc. I suppose I'll take that as a compliment! ;)

I will miss them but at the same time it was an enormous relief on Friday afternoon when I got home, knowing I was done with that first placement. I love the kids but the environment I guess was still being stressful even though I'd gotten used to it. I walked around Friday afternoon feeling like I had a literal weight off my chest, haha!

Now I'm working in the office at college over spring break, and reminding myself that I can still understand Spanish. I've let it slide since freshman/sophomore year but I'll need it again come summer for my new job. This coming Friday I'll go up to my new school (the one where I actually have a job!) for the weekend. I've been talking with a number of the school board members on the phone these past couple weeks. Everyone has been super friendly and welcoming so far and I'm excited to meet them "for real" outside of just an interview trip. Excited and scared, but trying to focus on the excited part. ;)

A week from today I start my second placement. That will be a K-8 one-room school and I am super excited! I'm hoping to be able to meet with my mentor teacher sometime this week, or at least talk with her on the phone--we'll see. It will be a new adventure for sure--very different from my first placement in a lot of ways!

Real Life: From the Diaries: Surrender

Bit of a long post today but I'm just putting this out there in case anyone else stumbling across this corner of the Wide Wide Web finds it encouraging. Please don't anyone worry about me; I've since mostly worked this out though I know it will probably come back! Sometimes God leads us in very different ways than we anticipated--and that can be hard. Even though it's always for the best!

While coming to grips with the fact that I actually have a job now (wow), I’m also having to come to grips with the fact that, for whatever reason, that job is quite close. 2 ½ hours, to be exact. Which I have not been expecting. At all. And though it has very definite benefits, somehow it also hurts a lot more than I’d been expecting. I guess I still miss Peru more than I’d thought. A lot more. . . 

I know that here can be a mission field just like anywhere else can, and that the safest place for me is in the middle of God’s will, and that God has led me to northeast TN. I believe all of that with my whole heart. I believe He has the best plans, that He only gives good gifts, that He withholds nothing good from His children. I know all that.

I also know that experience Stateside often can translate into being a better missionary, that I will have the opportunity to continue my Spanish, that I can become an experienced teacher and missionary up there and learn a lot about running a school that will be extremely helpful if I ever go overseas.

None of that makes the hurt go away though. This is what I promised I wouldn’t do—but now I’m doing it because I believe God led me here. I’m not angry at God but I am confused. When so many people “out there” desperately need to know about Him, and so few people are willing or able to go, and I am willing and able to go, why is He keeping me here? Why? And it’s not like I didn’t try at all. I talked to two different organizations; neither offered me anything. One pretty much actively discouraged me from career missions at this point. 

I just miss Peru. Still. I think mostly I miss that call, that certainty, that sense of place, that coming home. I wonder if I will ever find it again.

I guess mostly God is just teaching me surrender. Ha. Surrender all ways. I never in a hundred years thought I’d have to surrender this. But He knows all the things I don’t. Which is a lot. ;) And there are many many many things I can’t see. I don’t know so much. And He knows it all. His plans are GOOD.

What I do know is that He called me to missions. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. That is what I can hold on to. That is what I can act on.

And answering that call means going wherever He calls, for the simple reason that He called me. And so I go to northeast Tennessee in July. Because He called me. No other reason is good enough.

Still Here!

Well I have been MIA lately. I'll try to update more often! Maybe!

I'm keeping very very busy pretty much. Student teaching is going well. I only have two more weeks left after this coming one, for my current public school (5th grade) placement. Then I'll have a week off for spring break, before moving on to my seven-week private school placement. This current placement is a "co-teaching" setup, so I really don't have complete responsibility for the classroom, but I'm still learning a lot and it is a good experience.

So I am in school or driving to/from school from 8 to somewhere around 4:30 every day. Evenings are taking care of my horse and then usually just crashing. For an introvert, teaching can be very draining--for an idealist and connection-focused person, public school environments are even more draining. So I am trying to figure out how to "recharge" in those precious before-and-after school moments. It's still a work in progress. :)

Sabbaths are busy 9-9:30ish with church, friends, Bible work, and more friends--Sundays are lesson planning and usually something with more friends, unless (as on this weekend) they're sick! :( And this Monday we also have the day off for Presidents' Day, so I'm enjoying the long weekend. I anticipate a snow day sometime this week as well, but we'll have to see on that one!

I also interviewed for and accepted a job in a little one-teacher school in northeastern Tennessee, so I know where I'll be moving this summer! I'm very excited and can't wait to go up there over spring break to look for apartments and a place for my horse, and attend church with "my" new people! Lots of changes but it will be good. :)

Filled with Him

Fall color many moons ago ;) 

Well, a new year is here!

For me? This last year has been, overall, good. I've grown so much, learned so much, grown SO much closer to God, met amazing (seriously, amazing!) people--it's just been a great year. I can honestly say I'm so much happier this year than I was at this time last year.

And someday I want to write a series of posts about why. :) But for now I don't have the time.

This coming year--will it be as good as last year? I think it can be. Will it feel as good? That's another question! I'm beginning student teaching in two weeks, and I'll be graduating college in May. The job search begins next week. That's a really surreal kind of feeling in itself, when I think about it (which I'm trying not to)!

But the best thing? Is that with God, every day is the start of a new year! In its own way. I don't have to wait till next January to make changes or to move forward. His mercies are new every morning! You can't ask for better than that!

This year, I decided I wanted to focus on true beauty, peace, and joy. Surrounding myself with them and asking God to fill me with them and let them spill out to others. But then I thought, oh, and love too--and hope--and--and well there are a lot of things I want to be filled with!

So really, I came to the conclusion that what I want is just to be filled. Isn't that what we all want? And so I decided (yes, maybe I'm a bit slow!) that I just want to be filled with JESUS. If that's all I am, I will be more than happy enough!

Source

Care to join me?

Teacher Diaries: Preparing for Student Teaching!

First: FINALS ARE DONE!!! My last undergraduate finals ever!!

Okay, on to the next thing: Those who know me, know that, especially when I'm nervous or stressed, I can be obsessively organized and almost never too prepared. Mind you, these aren't inborn traits--they were faithfully taught me by my mother (doesn't it always seem to go that way?) over many, many, MANY years--or at least 20-something! ;)

Anyways, I have this problem, because I deal with life by organizing everything super-obsessively. Now maybe this is good, maybe it's bad; but that's how I've survived college so it works! However, this big thing is coming down the road:

STUDENT TEACHING.

And nowhere can I find any good resource for organizing one's life during student teaching! The main theme seems to be "just survive." Which is good, but...it lacks in detail somewhat...

So I'm going to adapt some teacher organization ideas and create an organizing thing (or more than one...). And hopefully post some of it here for the benefit of any poor student teacher out there who stumbles across this part of the world. :) Also going to post some of the more odd/probably-unique-only-to-me things that I'm doing--because I'm hoping to use student teaching as a practice time to figure out how to do this next semester in real life!

Stay tuned! :)

[Pre-] Teacher Diaries: Approaching the End!

This week at work the schedule for Winter semester is up.

We always fill out any time we can work and then someone puts all the options together, sort of like a giant jigsaw puzzle, so all of us office assistants get times we can work and a total number of hours that works for us.

But this time, my name's not on that paper. I'm going to be student teaching, and since I can afford not to work during student teaching (due to lots of saving and lots of scholarships--a big blessing!), I won't be working next semester.

Going to feel weird. I've worked every semester, even methods block. The past couple years, I've been working 15-16 hours a week. I wrote down that I will be back in May, just to make myself feel better. ;)

We have to apply for admission to student teaching, too. I've turned in everything and my interview is this evening. I'm still waiting impatiently for a grade on my portfolio (it should have been graded last Sunday!), but at least they haven't sent it back to me for revisions, so I'm assuming it passed in some way or other. :)

A week and a half and Thanksgiving, then two weeks and finals, and then Christmas break. And then student teaching. And resumes, job interviews, and hopefully, finally, a job.

Scared, and excited, and can't wait!

Thoughts on Teaching

...For some reason the video won't move to the bottom, where I want it. So anyways. It's a good song, listen to it. ;)

This week have been thinking about teaching. And teachers. Especially those of us who are young Christian teachers just getting out of school--but also older teachers. . .

We have a great Christian educational system here in the States. Trained teachers, (generally) supportive parents, good kids, good resources--we update our resources and textbooks and everything and it's just great. Kids can go to Pre-K through college in Christian education; it costs a LOT but you can do it. And of course then there is our favorite homeschooling, which I still entirely consider Christian education!

And just FYI please, please do NOT consider the following to be down-playing those who are SM's or career missionaries teaching without a teaching licensure or training. I admire you all like you cannot know and I pray for you all. I can't imagine doing what you're doing. God bless you!!

But, for teachers: Why are we not taking our training and what we know, and stretching it a little, and taking it outside our familiar comfort zone? Why do children in Christian schools in another country not get our long-term skills and our practice and even our resources? Think about it. If our students here had to deal with half the things students in other countries do--and I'm not even talking about physically or environmentally--we'd have parents at our throats 24/7. Just something to consider. Consider and pray about.

All of which is just to say that if you find me in Zimbabwe next year, you'll know why. . .