It Becomes an Act of Faith

If you're not already familiar with my story, the long and short of it is a story of working toward goals that always end up just out of reach.  I know it's been used a lot, but the illustration of the mouse in a maze works perfectly here.  I trained to be a dancer, with all the blood, sweat, and tears that come with that aspiration.  I dreamed of being a drug- and tobacco-free dancer in the midst of an artists' world that can be very, very dark and full of abnormal ways to find comfort. I vowed that I would be the dancer that would bring the light of Christ into this darkness, and be a role model for the younger dancers at the same time.  But that was not what I was called to do.  A back injury incurred while waiting tables eventually landed me in a wheelchair, with no hope of my mangled spinal column being able to support my body's weight again.
So, my young husband joined the Marine Corps in an effort to take care of my medical needs, only to be sectioned-out on account of asthma.
I figured I’d go to school and become a therapist, to help other injured athletes.
"What do you mean we're moving to Montana?!  I thought we were going to Minneapolis!"
“I’m sorry, but unless you commit to a year's worth of hormone therapy, there's no chance you'll have any more children." 
Ok. So I’ll become a teacher and love everybody else's children…
It's been like this for nearly all of our 22 years of marriage. Every good intention, best-laid plan, and desperate execution of plan "B" has run into walls, and each time we have merely picked ourselves up and gone a different direction.  It took me a long time to learn that if I simply spend my time looking for another way to make my plan work, I miss the journey.  I don't mean just stop-and-smell-the-roses kind of missing the journey.  I mean missing the lessons that unfold along the way; about who God really is, and what it means to look for His way.  It becomes an act of faith to rest in the belief that God knows where you’re going.  When you realize that all those moments, even the moments on the way to where you’re going, can be full of growth, and that just because we aren’t where we want to be doesn’t mean we can’t be content.  That’s the place I’d rather be, because every other path leads to frustration.

God's Own Fool

Just an FYI...in case you may have wondered why I have taken this title, here's the song by Amy Shreve      that made me adopt it:


•Seems I’ve imagined Him all of my life as the wisest of all of mankind
•But if God’s Holy wisdom is foolish to men
•He must have seemed out of His mind

•For even His family said he was mad
•And the priests said a demon’s to blame
•For God in the form of this angry young man
•Could not have seemed perfectly sane

•For we in our foolishness thought we were wise
•He played the fool and he opened our eyes
•We in our weakness believed we were strong
•He became helpless to show we were wrong

•So we follow God’s own fool
•For only the foolish can tell
•Believe the unbelievable
•Come be a fool as well                   
  Amy Shreve: Harp and Willow ; WIX Group 1995

Substitute Teaching: Yours by Default

Only those who have done the time can truly understand the plight of a substitute teacher.  Students mistakenly assume that we are people who couldn’t get a real job, while others believe we took a weekend workshop and hung out a shingle.  I, on the other hand, knew exactly what I was getting into beforehand…. and did it anyway! My mom was a sub for most of my youth.  I heard the stories over dinner of the day’s events; of reprobate students, hallway hysteria, blow-hard Principals, and uncooperative associates.

Sounded like a blast… Not!

Mom did it because of the flexibility it offered.  She could take a job or leave it.  If one of us got sick she could stay home with us, and she didn’t have to spend her evenings drawing up lesson plans.  That’s the benefit of not being under contract.  Subs get to come into the building just before school starts for the day and leave as soon as the last bell has rung.  The downside is that we are invisible agents, with no home.  We live out of various bags, frequently travel uncharted territory, and often eat lunch in anonymity.  

Like me, she had her degree in one of the “Specials,” which is Art, Music, P.E., and Foreign Language.  Jobs in those areas are tough to come by, so most of us opt to sub until something full-time opens up. It’s a great way to get classroom experience and learn the trade from other teachers.  It can also be something akin to combat training. In trying to get my husband to understand how much “fun” it is, I painted the following illustration. 

He’s a pilot, so I asked him to imagine sitting by the phone every morning at 5AM, waiting for the call.  Once you get your assignment head to the airport, where the lady at the front desk will give you a folder and a key.  Find a place to stow the lunch you brought.  Locate your aircraft and board.  Once inside, immediately find your flight plans, which may be in the front, middle, or rear of the plane (maybe anywhere in-between).  Make sure you’ve packed back-up plans in case there aren’t any.  Once plans are in hand, familiarize yourself with the safety exit, fire procedure guide, and what to do in case of an intruder (which may ground you for the day), as each plane is different.  Get to know your flight plan before your passengers get on board, and start asking questions about it.  Make sure you have enough time to read the notes in the back of the plans that will fill you in on the plane’s idiosyncrasies.  This will be important, especially mid-flight.  Listen for frequent announcements from the tower…You get the gist.  Add to that the students who will remind you hundred times an hour that “Our teacher doesn’t do it that way!”, the kindergartener who suddenly barfs on your feet, the senior who asks to go to the bathroom…and doesn’t come back, and try not to bristle when the kids trick you.

Had enough?  Just wait.  Tomorrow will mean a different airport, new airplane, and completely different passengers.

Cheers!