A Chapter Ends

I've been working in childcare off and on (mostly on) for over 10 years, close to 20 if you count camp counseling and babysitting as a teen. I was looking for a ministry when I got back from the mission field and a children's home seemed the natural choice. My first application to the Children's Home was not successful, so I found work elsewhere. A few years later, as my college days were coming to a close, I needed a place where I could work on weekends and have time during the week for school and homework. I applied once more at the Children's Home and so began a career and ministry to children. I got off to a rocky start and had much to learn, but eventually I became quite adept at dealing with challenging children. I held various positions at the Children's Home, but always managed to work with the kids. I started working at the Boys Ranch, as well. If you read my posts "Call Me Crazy" and "Out of the Mouth of Babes", you see that it was something I still did. I left the Children's Home nearly 4 years ago to teach Special Ed. My experience at the Home and the Ranch came in handy and contributed to some significant and succesful work with my students. I took a year off from the Boys Ranch as I continued to teach. Two highly emotionally disturbed children every single day plus certification classes were challenging enough. John, however, pleaded with me to come back a year and a half ago. OK, he didn't plead. I said yes without a second thought before the complete request had left his mouth. If you have had the privilege of working for/with John, then you know how easy it is to say yes to any request of his. (But I'd like to think that he would have pleaded had I shown a moment's hesitation--there's nothing like the feeling of knowing that John needs you.)

I returned and worked many weekends initially. When I look back now, I really don't know how I did it. I had taken a new teaching position at school, I had friends in turmoil, and my uncle passed away among other things. I still want to lean towards insanity, but I know in truth it was God's unending faithfulness. I hope as they mature, those boys develop a sound understanding of it because I know of a few who, if not for divine intervention, would be smited by my hand. Yet, I love them so. They make me crazy and sometimes in the early phases of working with them I find that I really do not like them. Somehow, though, be it through the miracle of time or God's gentle prompting of my heart to be more compassionate, I grow to truly care for them.

There is something about children that I’m continually drawn to. I don’t know if it is their energy, their sometimes piercing honesty, or their unconditional acceptance of me. I just know that I feel the most at ease, most confident, and most content in the presence of children. These broken ones, in particular. I find that I identify with them even though I’ve not suffered the things they’ve suffered. I have felt lost in my own life, out of control, and kicking and screaming over things that I can’t change. But they find some way to thrive in spite of everything. They continue to love and risk and laugh and . . . live.

I have realized, or perhaps admitted is more accurate, that I don’t live. Not really. I lost my bearings somewhere along the way and have been hiding wherever I can. I got so good at being inconspicuous at college that I forget that people can actually see me. I find my identity outside of myself . . . in my house, my work, my friends. And I use these things as excuses not to live, not to know what I really want, not to make the most of this gift that God has given me of being alive. It has been wrenching for me to acknowledge these things. It’s the side of “epiphany” that makes me loathe the word. Kind of like life, though, you can’t really appreciate the scale of “epiphany” unless you acknowledge all aspects of it. It makes the pleasant ones more wondrous. And in a grander context, such as Romans 8:28 “All things work for good . . . “, even the loathsome ones become wondrous because you know that somewhere down the road something good can develop from having painful epiphanies.

I want to live. I want to be better, do better. I want to take care of myself so I can better serve those around me. I want to train my dog. I want to be fearless, or if not so, at least not afraid to get up and try again when Satan broadsides me. I want to be like the children I work with, who don’t let their mistakes, flaws, or frustrations hold them back. I want to live and love like I belong to Him.

I drove to my last shift with mixed emotions. I knew I was doing the right thing, but sometimes you feel a twinge of sadness when you know a part of your life is coming to a close. It wasn’t anything special or different from any other shift, as it turned out. I was so tired when I left that Saturday night that I didn’t have the energy for emotions. I was just ready to be in bed. This chapter in my life has closed and another has begun. As I look around the house that I’ve not had the time or energy to clean in the past several weeks, I breathe a quick prayer for the strength and courage to live my life and be a good steward with what I’ve been blessed. Then I roll up my sleeves and begin.

Musings on a Saturday

Wow. I didn't mean to go so long between posts. Clearly, you rabid readers are furious with the the lack of activity in the world inside my head, but it's not because I've been too busy or too tired. There really is nothing going on up there, if there was it would be posted here.

So it's Saturday and it's April, which means two things: Sarah has returned and I no longer work at TBR. I will save my thoughts on TBR for another post. What is there to say about Sarah's return, early return at that, but YEE-DOODY-HAW!!!? She surprised me speechless. It was odd her being gone and then ~shazam!~ there she is. Yes, I just said "shazam". I'm having to adjust my routine because it had been get up, feed dogs, check computer/Skype, get dressed, work, come home, check computer/Skype (I was also checking frequently at school), run errands, eat, come home, check computer/Skype, love on dogs, go to bed, repeat. I went to my computer on Tuesday morning out of habit before I remembered she was back. Let me just say once more: It's GOOD to have you home, girl!!!

I woke up to a blanket of snow this morning. I can't say that I'm all that thrilled about it. It's APRIL for petesake! This is more shocking than the waking up to snow May 9, 1995 when I went to renew my visa at the airport in Glasgow. I thought about posting a picture of it, but decided not to. If you want to see what snow in Lubbock looks like in April, see "The Dog Days of Winter" post. It's exactly the same. My Mom and Dad are in town. Always nice when they visit. I get doted on and who doesn't love that? They usually refurbish my toilet paper supply. And this time I got a drill! I have my own drill now. So all you local pals, if you need some drilling done call me!

We went to the grocery store where I saw a Grapple. A Grapple is an apple that tastes like a grape. It has convinced me that the horticulturists responsible for our fresh produce supply have entirely too much time on their hands. Whose genius idea was that anyway? Somebody actually sat down and thought, "What if an apple tasted exactly like a grape?" Not only did they sit down and think about it, they made it happen. Let me just say that if I want something that tastes like a grape, I'm going to buy grapes. That would cause serious texture flavor confusion for me otherwise and my brain is confused enough without biting into an Grapple. Not only that, I take serious issue with the name "Grapple". I know what they are aiming for, but it strikes too similar a resemblance to the word "grope" in my mind. I won't tell where that leads my mind next, but I think you get the picture and experiencing fruit should have its limits. That stated, if you like living on the edge when it comes to your fruit, may I suggest a Grapple? I have no desire to try it, but it might actually take your world by storm.