Good Soil

 Yesterday at church, we sang:

 

Lord, let my heart be good soil,

Open to the seed of your word.

Lord, let my heart be good soil,

Where love can grow and peace is understood.

When my heart is hard, break the stone away

When my heart is cold, warm it with the day.

When my heart is lost, lead me on your way.

Lord, let my heart,

Lord, let my heart,

Lord, let my heart be good soil.

(1985, Hanson)

 

As we sang the song, and then hummed the melody in reflection,

I thought about the stories of good soil that I’d recently heard:

A teacher who spent her weekend at a PowWow because her student invited her,

A father who drove hours to see his son who was grieving the loss of the family’s pet,

An older brother who bought Legos and Pokémon cards so that he could have a project to do with his younger brother who was hurting,

A grandson who called his granddad because he needed to talk,

A grandmother who walked a long way to see her grandson march in a band competition,

A son who flew to his mother’s side after she had a heart attack,

A teenage girl who volunteered to fill a position at school that no one else wanted to fill,

A student who stood up to a bully because he didn’t want anyone getting hurt,

A customer who invited her favorite store owner to church in such a genuine way that the store owner went,

A teenage boy who looked beyond the differences of alopecia and befriended a girl because of who she is rather than how she looks,

A citizen who cared so much for the historical significance of a building that she fought to save it,

A mom who took her job of feeding teenagers on a mission trip so seriously that she went to three different grocery stores to get the best quality products for the cheapest price,

A minister who believes so much in the vastness of God that she risks her reputation to present views of God that move beyond narrow, Christian norms,

A doctor who listens to her patients and cares to see the big picture rather that moving her patients in and out to make a buck,

A principal who bought his staff breakfast as a small token of encouragement on a day when they were going to need encouragement to make it through,

Another teacher who diffused a student’s anger calmly rather than responding in kind.

 

Friends: When our hearts are good soil, there is no end to the goodness that abounds. So may our hearts be good soil, and may love and peace grow. Always. Amen.

At A Distance

 Blackout poetry is so fascinating to me.

Sometimes the page gives simple, straightforward advice like, “Hug people tight.”

Other times it gives more challenging, abstract wisdom like, “All we can do is wait. Holding out is more powerful than giving in to wrong.”

Sometimes the page radiates peace: “God is in the music.”

Other times it screams in agony: “She was gone. No longer there. Swept into darkness, nothingness. They were completely alone.”

 

Today’s page was one that spoke in quiet sadness: “Our daily lives were painful. So we kept conversation light. We were learning to live our lives at a distance.”

I know of many whose daily lives are painful—

Literally and figuratively.

I know of sickness and disease,

Strained relationships and divorce,

Unfavorable working conditions and unemployment,

Neglect and abuse.

And yet we keep conversation light because it’s too difficult to dive into the depths of hurt.

Diving into the pain causes more pain.

And who has the time and willpower to suffer pain upon pain?

And so we learn to live our lives at a distance—

From one another,

From self,

From those who love us,

From God.

Because living at distance is easier than living too close.

Too close can be vulnerable

And vulnerability exposes weakness.

And who has time to be weak in a society that celebrates the strong?

 

Oh God: Help us like only you can. Give us the strength and courage to face the pain upon pain and to know that there is peace on the other side. Give us the willingness to see and be seen and to know that there is freedom in light. There are so many people who are hurting—so many people struggling just to make it through. Help us not just to make it through but rather to fully live. You have made the way for us to live life abundantly. Help us to live that life right here, right now, fully embracing it, rather than from a distance. Amen. 

Stomach Bug

 I’m home sick today.

Evidently, a stomach bug bit me on Tuesday,

And I think I know the exact moment it bit.

I had a student come into class shivering.

I asked if she felt bad.

She mumbled something.

I told her that she could go lay down if she wanted.

I was going to call the teacher after I got class started.

She went and hid in the corner.

I asked her to move from the corner to a place where I could see her.

She did.

Suddenly uncertain as to if her behavior was because she was feeling bad or if it was because something traumatic had happened to her,

I went over and bent down in front of her.

She was curled into a protective ball, which was very unlike this student.

When I asked, again, if she felt bad, she mumbled something, again.

When I asked if something scary had happened to her, she burst into tears.

She was crying so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

So I put my hand on her protective knee and told her to breathe deep,

And I modeled breathing deeply,

And she followed my model,

And blew a germ into my face,

And I thought to myself,

“I really hope she’s not sick because if she’s sick then I’ll probably get sick, too.”

But then I thought to myself,

“Although it would be better for her to be sick than for her to have had something traumatic happen to her.”

I called the guidance counselor.

She came and talked with the student.

Thankfully, the student just seemed to be feeling bad,

So she, eyes red from crying, walked to the nurse’s station with the guidance counselor,

And I went about my day.

Approximately 24 hours later, I was in the bathroom throwing up,

Thankful that the Behavior Intervention Specialist was able to watch my class for a few moments

So that I didn’t have to vomit in a trashcan in front of a bunch of 1^st graders.

That was yesterday.

I’m still home today.

Thankful for paid time off,

Although I did get sick in the line of duty :-p.

 

Dear God: There’s a lot of sickness going around. Help those of us who are sick to get well. And help those who are well to stay well. May we use good hygiene practices to stop the spread of germs and may the germs dissipate in time. Amen. 

Anonymous Buyer

 There once was a woman who had just finalized her divorce.

As part of moving forward,  

She decided to sell some of her jewelry’

The woman went to a local jewelry store to see if they sold consignment.

They did.

When she pulled out one of the rings,

The workers at the store gasped at its beauty.

To make a long story short,

Uncertain as to what the stone was,

And more concerned with getting rid of the jewelry than waiting to have the stone identified,

The woman sold the ring to an anonymous buyer for a very small amount of money.

The anonymous buyer,

Thinking that she knew what the stone was

But uncertain as to if her luck could be so real,  

Sent the stone to a lapidary for identification.

Come to the find out, the stone was a rare stone,

Found only in one country of the world.

It was worth twenty times more than what she had paid.

 

I don’t know the circumstances of the divorce.

I don’t know if the woman needed fast cash or

If she was just so disgusted with her ex-husband that she didn’t really care what she got for the ring as long as it was gone.

I just know this:

The anonymous buyer saw something in the ring that the original owner did not.

She saw beauty, worth, and value…

And that beauty, worth, and value now sit on her finger in a display of humble gratitude.

 

May we be a people

Not quick to discard,

And may we see the

Beauty, worth, and value

All around.

 

Amen.

Adrenaline Rush Hyperfocus

 I confess.

For the first part of the week,

I was running on an adrenaline-rush-hyperfocus.

Yesterday morning,

After my final bid on e-Bay was approved,

I came down from the high and tired hit me.

And then I started crying.

For no reason.

I just cried.

I think crying is something that my body has to do ever so often

To remain in balance.

Is anyone else like that?

 

My adrenaline-rush-hyperfocus was brought on by my grant.

Having $2000 burned a whole in my pocket and

I immediately went into spending mode.

Was there a deadline for spending the money?

No.

Was there any reason whatsoever that I needed to order the instruments immediately?

No.

But did I spend the entire $2000 in less than a week?

Yes.

   

And here’s the cool thing:

Because of eBay bidding and price offers,

And because of my amazing bookkeeper, Cris,

I got so many price reductions that

I was able to get two instruments that I hadn’t planned to get:

The accordion and the sitar (from India).

 

In the process of shopping and bidding,

I prayed that I would be a good steward of the money.

I had a few let downs in bidding and

I had some major debates with myself over which instruments to order and

Some of the instruments that I wanted disappeared before I could get them.

 

But, in the end, I ordered the following (mostly from their country of origin):

Guitarron (Mexico)

Vihuela (Mexico)

Shamisen (Japan)

Balalaika (Russia)

Sitar (India)

Native American Jingle Pouch (Indigenous Peoples of North America)

Native American Drum (Indigenous Peoples of North America)

2 Kids Accordions (German influence)

Crash Cymbals (Turkish influence)

 

Now I just have one major problem:

I have nowhere to store said instruments!

But I guess that’s a good problem to have.

 

When is the last time you had an adrenaline-rush-hyperfocus?

What was the cause?

And what happened when you came down?

I’d love to hear!

Bright Ideas Grant

 Did you know that September 15^th through October 15^th was Hispanic Heritage Month? And did you know that the types of Hispanic music are countless?

 

Because of the area where I live, and because of the likelihood that my students will see one, mariachi is the music that I’ve focused on for the past decade.

 

Mariachi music originated in Mexico and includes five main instruments: trumpet, violin, guitar, guitarron, and vihuela.

 

Chances are good that you’ve not heard of the latter two instruments, but they are crucial to mariachi—in fact, if you don’t have the guitarron and vihuela, then you don’t have a mariachi.

 

I own a trumpet, violin, and guitar. They are all common instruments that either I play or that come up in multiple types of music. I do not, however, own a guitarron or vihuela. Together, they cost $1000, and I’ve not been able to justify the personal expense of instruments that are limited to one type of music and that I do not know how to play.

 

Not being able to justify the instruments, though, hasn’t stopped me from wanting them.

 

Enter the Bright Ideas Grant.

 

Every year, NC’s electric cooperatives provide grants to teachers who have ideas for creative learning projects. I had applied to receive Bright Ideas Grants in the past, but I was not awarded any money.

 

It hadn’t occurred to me to write a grant for the guitarron or vihuela until this year. And while I was writing, the idea turned into an entire world music extravaganza! Here is what I wrote in the introduction:

 

The "Instrument Petting Zoo" will allow students to see, feel, and play a variety of musical instruments from around the world (guitarrón [Mexico], vihuela [Mexico], shamisen [Japan], balalaika [Russia], lute [China], and Native American Drum and Jingles [Indigenous Peoples of North America]). Pictures and sound samples are nice, but real, tangible instruments are far more exciting for students who will likely never see, feel, or play them if not exposed to them at school. To feel the weight of an instrument--to touch its strings and watch it vibrate--to make a connection with a different culture--those are all irreplaceable experiences that will be achieved through the "Instrument Petting Zoo."

 

And. I was awarded the grant! I get to buy my guitarron and vihuela! And some other cool instruments as well!

 

Representatives from our electric coop came to the school on Thursday morning to award both me and Shauna-The-Art-Teacher Bright Ideas Grants. (Shauna wrote hers for a glass kiln). To say that we were both surprised is an understatement. To say that we were both grateful goes without saying.

 

As Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for everything. And I guess my time to purchase my guitarron and vihuela is finally here!

 

Yay!

 

Dear God: Help us to persevere and not to give up on our hopes and dreams. I know that not everything we wish for will come true but thank you for the things that do. Amen.  

Junk Mail Folder

 I may be the minority here,

But I regularly clean out my e-mail inbox and

Check my spam folder.

I enjoy the tidiness of a non-cluttered inbox and

I look forward to finding real messages in my spam folder.

In fact, I probably look forward to it too much

Because sometimes I’m disappointed when it’s truly only junk.

 

The other day, as I was scrolling through my spam folder,

I saw a message from a friend I hadn’t heard from in a long time.

The subject title was “Post seen on Facebook.”

I didn’t know if the message was junk or if it was real.

I took a chance, though,

opened the message,

didn’t see any suspicious links,

and began to read.

 

The message is my picture for the day.

 

Not only was it not junk,

It was treasure!

 

“I just want to encourage you to keep on paying attention to the things most of us want to ignore,” she wrote. “God sees you and what you do is very important. You are one of my few ‘heroes.’”

 

I was recently asked why it takes a special event for someone to tell you how much you mean to them.

 

Let today be that special event, friends.

 

Even if you risk getting sent to spam. 

Where The Crawdads Sing

 I’m happy to report that the weekend went well. In short, I got to play my guitar, sing, speak, and spend time with some of the most genuinely loving people I’ve ever met. God’s love and grace abound, and that was very evident over the weekend.

 

While the weekend was long and packed with activity, I still found a few moments to continue my discipline of black-out poetry. I haven’t missed but one day since Heidi the Librarian and I started our black-out poetry journey on June 4, 2021. We have now blacked out Anne of Green Gables, Bridge to Terabithia, The Giver, Bridges of Madison County, four black-out poetry books, and…our newest completion: Where The Crawdads Sing.

 

We finished the latter over the weekend. While I sat in the retreat, I had a quiet celebration with myself, and thanked God for the journey that we took through the crawdads.

 

With 391 pages, plus the introduction and title pages, Where the Crawdads Sing produced 190 different poems over the course of six and a half months :-o.

 

I laughed at some of the poems that emerged from the pages—

 

A biology lesson

Is tedious

For sure.

 

I cried at others—

 

She looked.

No one stood for her.

She breathed in.

She was empty.

 

Some poems were about simple love—

 

They are staring into each other’s eyes

The way everybody wants to be.

 

Some poems were about difficult love—

 

She bent at the waist,

Holding her face in her hands,

Soft groans came from her throat.

Tears welled and he looked away.

He always went back to the bottle.

It had something to do with the war.

But he shouldn’t take it out on his wife,

His own kids.

 

Some poems were inspiring—

 

You are free to

Go

Serve

Thank

Gather

Discover

Hope

Relax

Explain

Remember

Mess up

Wander

Work

And follow.

I love you.

 

Others were just plain silly—

 

One thing she knew about life:

you can’t eat grits without salt.

 

But all of them were created in the moment, from the text, already on the page, waiting to be seen.

 

Friends: Life is happening all around us. Love is written in the text. Grace is already on the page. God is just waiting to be seen.

 

So may we see what God would have us see today…and when we do, may we respond in quiet celebration and gratitude for the journey that has brought us here. Amen.

 

PS. This picture is the last poem I blacked out in Crawdads. I thought it was an appropriate way to end the book. 

Emmaus and ENT

 With as many women’s retreats as I’ve designed and led,

You’d think that I wouldn’t be anxious.

The Emmaus Walk is pre-designed.

It’s already laid out.

It’s being led by a whole team of people.

I’ll be serving as one of the spiritual leaders and musicians on the retreat,

But I’m not in charge.

It’s not all on me.

There are many, many people praying for us.

Yet I’m anxious.

And nervous.

Because it’s unknown.

 

Isn’t that how much of life is, though?

We fear the unknown because, well, it’s unknown?

And we stick with what we know,

Even if it’s not good for us,

Because, well, it’s known?

 

For the past few years, I’ve noticed that my singing voice has become increasingly more limited.

While I used to be able to sing up to a high A,

I can now barely sing the C above middle C.

I have feared vocal cord damage for some time,

But I have feared, even more, going to a doctor who could tell me yeh or neh.

 

Two weeks ago, while trying to teach my students how to sing in their head voice,

I realized how limited my voice had become.

I was very sad.

I spoke with my doctor.

She recommended that I go to an ENT.

I have an appointment next week,

Two days after the Emmaus Walk ends.

 

I’m anxious about that, too.

 

Is God with me?

Yes.

Will the retreat be good?

Yes.

Will insight from an ENT be helpful—

Even if it means a procedure to fix nodes or nodules or anything else that might be going on?

Yes.

 

But still, in the middle of fear of the unknown,

Mixed with a bit of excitement and curiosity,

Is where I sit right now.

 

God: Thank you for sitting with me—for sitting with all of us experiencing fears, uncertainties, and anxieties—however “big” or “small” they may seem. I pray your surrounding love, joy, and courage today and every day. For me and for all those reading these words. We love you. So much. Amen. 

I Was Wrong--Ten Years Ago

 The picture on the top is from ten years ago. It popped up in my FB memories yesterday. The picture on the bottom is from today. My life has changed about as much as my office in the ten years in between. 

 

Ten years ago, I had just left a job that I’d imagined retiring from and was back home with an uncertain future. When I stopped teaching to go to Divinity School and then enter into full-time ministry, I didn’t think that I would be back in the public schools as a teacher. A volunteer? A tutor? A school board member? A champion for public education? Yes. But a teacher? No. I had nothing against being a teacher. I just thought my life was going in a different direction. I was wrong. 

 

So when I moved home, in the middle of the school year, knowing that music jobs were few and far between, I didn’t really know what my future would bring. I’d once said that I would consider going back into the schools if I could reunite with Barb The Art Teacher, but I didn’t think that’d be possible. I was wrong. 

 

To make a long story short, the music teacher position at the school where Barb was teaching opened the next year, so I took it. Nine years ago, I began my 9th year of teaching at Johnsonville Elementary School. My work at Johnsonville was long and hard. We were a failing school. There were many days of sweat and tears. But out of necessity and need, some of the most wonderful educators I’ve ever met came together and pulled JES out of the rubble. I had multiple opportunities to leave JES during those trying years, but I turned them down. I thought I’d be at JES a long time. I was wrong. 

 

This year, I began year my fifth year at Greenwood. (At year 18 altogether, I’m making the same amount of money as Barb at year 24 😡. But that’s not the point here.) The point is that I often wonder what good I’m doing at Greenwood. For a long time, I thought maybe it was none. But lately I’ve realized. I was wrong. 

 

Ten years ago, I didn’t have training in trauma and resilience. 

 

Ten years ago, I didn’t have firsthand experience working with kids with special needs. 

 

Ten years ago, I didn’t have training in providing a safe space for all students. 

 

Ten years ago, I didn’t have some of the amazing friends in educators that I have now—both from JES and GES. 

 

I didn’t have countless Friday night memories spent in social gatherings with people giving their lives for the good of others. 

 

I didn’t have countless writings that I hope have encouraged those I’ve come to love. 

 

Ten years ago, I didn’t have a full set of classroom keyboards, bucket drums, and Appalachian dulcimers. I didn’t have multiple YouTube links from which to teach. I didn’t have lesson plans and units in my pocket. And I certainly didn’t have the knowledge of how numerous musicians and composers died! 

 

Ten years ago, my life was very different than it is now. My orange fish art collection was just beginning, and so was my current life. Ten years ago, I couldn’t really see a way forward. I thought my ministry was over. I was wrong. 

 

And I’m so glad I was.