Remind Me Who I Am

I know that I am supposed to be a light.

But I feel the floods of chaos

Sweep me in its drowning destruction.

Bone against bone,

Flesh oppose flesh.

There is a war and I have been charged

The enemy.

Words composed of stones flail

Towards me; they pierce

And I find my heart amongst the casualties.

Ripped and jaded; warped and hated –

My mind weakened

My reflection blurred to something

Unidentifiable.  Your love forgotten,

I feel a fire raging inside of me.

Lividity given way at the sound

Of every poisonous word.

My soul has cowered

In their shadow.  Fear captures

My confidence, crippling it.

Rescue me once again.

Realign my vision to see entirely, for I was

Not intended to succumb to the defeated lies of hell.

I hear the crying of my children dying,

But if I try to save them, surely I will lose myself. 

Breathe into this dust coagulated as the form

Of the One who carries the heavens. 

Not of my strength do I draw,

But the leaven of salvation

Which is the hope of glory for all. 

A Reflection of Someone Older Than I

     During my first year in teaching, I have done a lot of growing up.  Teaching teenagers has a knack for making one self-scrutinizing to make sure that he or she is a model of who and what they are training their students to become.  Additionally, the truth is that one has to grow up to raise teenagers.  I'm not just a teacher.  I am also part parent and councilor to my students.  I am no longer able to remain the cool "big sister" at youth group. 
     I wonder about them.  I worry about them.  How they are understanding the materials (and not just so they can be personally judged by the letter grade they are given).  However, what really keeps me up is wondering how the livelihood of my students are.  If their home-life is healthy, and if not, how can I make sure that in the eight (or in the case of teaching six different classes, one) hours I have with them are the most safe they can feel.  I worry if I am communicating the right words that I care about them and their future.
     Lastly, I am no longer the ignorant white lady off the Rez.  Sure, I heard about poverty.  But you don't really know it until you see it.  Sure you can acknowledge that drugs are eminent, but you don't really don't think of being proactive until the kids that you care for - yes, they are my kids - are highly likely to be involved in such activity.  I have been yelled at and have been insulted. My stress has grown exponentially and to be completely honest, there have been times I've wanted to quit.  It would be very wise of me to leave after this school year. Why should I deal with this?  Just go back home where things are safe.  Where things don't have to be questioned, and my Christian life can be comfortable.
     All this explanation is leading up to a poem I wrote this morning.  I have grown up a lot this year.  And I still have three months left.  I am not the 20-something who wants to party.  No.  I have become a mother whose thoughts are completely perpetuated with students and their discouraging surroundings.   My body and psyche reveal this as I reflect on this past year.  Not attempting to be facetious, but I could admit there have been some hellish moments.  But then again, I bet a lot of my kids have been too.  So much that there is an expectation to no longer expect.  No longer expect change or restoration in peoples' lives, because the past has always been transferred to the present generation.  However, I have to still believe that anything is possible.  If God has been able to do immeasurable transformations in other peoples' lives (including my own), who is to say He can't do it in the town I call home?

"A Reflection of Someone Older Than I"

Behind the eyes filled with innocence
Are the memories of laughter, smiles;
A childlike carelessness.
They are bright with hope and love
Looking toward the glory in each day.

Underneath these eyes are the deep
Circles darkened with heavy concerns
The night brings with it lack of sleep.
Prayers are full of questions and fears,
Hoping that the yesterdays will not last.

Creases of laughter compete
With the wrinkles of tears;
Skin peeks between the thinning of hair.
Though the body is near twenty-five years of age,
The mind is two decades more.
Youth almost forgotten.

But dreams remain...

A hope for a new day to come, 
Pain will set as joy dawns.
A rose-colored redemption transforms
A cleavage between the past from tomorrows.
Faith for a vision restored,
Yet dare not to abandon til it's seen. 

The Lord Reigns

I have been in a kind of slump off and on at work.  One week I may be doing well, but by the next week, my emotions and mental state are stretched close to a breaking point due to the different factors of stress that is involved.  There are times I want to quit.  There are times I wish I could curl up in a ball, and have God rescue me from whatever hellish experiences I might be having.  Over the course of my first year teaching, I have realized that there are so many weak areas of my personal being, that I often feel crushed when adversity comes my way.  And it runs at me with vengeance.

“God, where are You?”  What the heck are You doing with me; with this place I’m in?”  My questions echo that of King David from the first half of the Psalms.  Rightly so.  There are many a days I reflect on how the day went, and I wonder what went wrong, what did.  Most often the wrong part, because I often struggle getting everything right.  I practice other methods that teachers show me, and somehow, it can still fail me.  I try to be exuberant, and the kids are more put off by it, rather than intrigued.  Either God better fix things right away, or I give up.  At least, that is how I often feel.  

Last Sunday, I was reading through the Psalms, and like most mornings, I was yearning for those verses that would relay that I’m not alone.  Even found one, “…He preserves the souls of the saints; He delivers them out of the hand of the wicked.” – Psalms 97:10.  However, if I allowed my eyes to align with the honesty of my heart, the first line of the first verse was what cried out to me.  “The Lord reigns.”  The Lord reigns.  Whoa.   Stand still.  Out of all the commiserative groans I quietly wailed through the edge of my pen, I was told that the Lord reigns.  That He is King.  

I wonder how often I see Jesus as King.  Or do I just see him as the Savior of my soul and be on my way?  Not that I am not grateful for what His blood did for my soul, but when I see how the world is made up, I often become a middle-weight boxer facing a heavy weight.  Not strong enough, and so I should just jump out of the ring.  I stand on rock, sure.  But only if there is a house to shade me from any horrendous storms of life.  If I was truly honest, though I believe in the salvation from sin, I still become weary at times of the circumstances on earth.  I treat God more like a Prince Charming, ready to save His damsel in distress, rather than the king He is.  I will be the superhero making a difference in this world, God will be my sidekick.  So, what happens when my weaknesses are blatant for all to see?  That no matter what methods or skills I use, they crumble against the wiles of the enemy?  If God is just my Prince Charming, only there to save me when I am in a pinch.  Only there to make me feel all googly inside, then my idea of God has failed me.

I need a king.  I need a king, because I cannot save myself.  Yes, this is easy to say, because we, as Christians often point to the status of our souls.  But that is not the only thing in my life that is wanting of salvation.  Every single aspect of my life is yearning for the redemption of Christ to come to fruition.  I yearn for healing, I yearn for families, for education to be meant something; I yearn for peoples’ identities to be renewed.  And I absolutely am not the superhero that people need in their lives.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do it.  And if I think that a moment of Prince Charming God is all that it’ll take to fix everything, then I need to reflect on my own life and realize that happy endings don’t come as easily as in the fairy tales.  A king whose sovereignty reigns is needed.  

Thing is, we have a king who reigns.  I am beginning to question the sovereignty of my own strength, because I see its tendons stretch and bend, breaking with the pressure of daily storms.  But then, I am back to God being my sidekick.  Only there when I can’t handle it.  No.  The Lord reigns.  The implication is different.  His sovereignty reigns, His lordship reigns.  We can look back to the Genesis account of how everything was questioned and put into disarray, but then fast-forward, Jesus came and realigned, pouring out His blood and body, so that we, the creation made in the image of God could be claimed once again under His name.  However, salvation is not just for our souls, but it’s also for the redemption of this world until a new one is made.

“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope, because the creation itself also delivered from bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.  Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.” – Romans 8:20-23

Furthermore – and this is the best part – the payment has already been paid in full with Jesus.  His sovereignty is still established, and therefore, as king – and one that reigns – we can claim His authority now on earth.  “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  I am letting God, who is already, and always was the heavy weight running champion go against the heavy weight struggles of life.  He is the Lord who reigns, and He has already won.  What more could I do to achieve the redemption and transformation this earth needs? 

Will life be easy?  No.  There are still matches that will be thrown at us.  Hardships will be pelted our way.  But God has done marvelous things; His right hand and His holy arm have gained (PAST TENSE) the victory.  The Lord has made known His salvation; His righteousness He has revealed in the sight of nations (Psalms 98:1-2).   God has ALREADY gained victory in the – and I will claim, all – areas of life.  He is not the sidekick that we bring along when we need a little bit of help.  He is the Lord, the king who reigns.  We follow His charge, knowing whatever struggles we face, they have already been conquered (Romans 8:37-39).

On a last note, I found this realization of Him being King last week.  I don’t know if I fully understand this concept.  I hope so.  But I always had a tendency to want to do things on my own.  Letting God do the work, without my hand leading the efforts, is a new pitch I have to master. 

Tick-Tock Mockery

      Most often, Christmas is a two-week break from the hectic pace of life.  A time for people to come together with family and friends, and appreciate what gifts we have in life.  However, this Christmas was different for me.  Yes, I had a wonderful Christmas with my family.  However, since the Christmas of 2013 and that of 2014, a lot has changed.
      I changed addresses, communities, acquaintances and surroundings.  I was able to get the teaching job I wanted, but though I was many miles from home, I hoped that things wouldn't have changed since my absence.  Of course, I knew things would change somewhat.  But I hoped the city that I called home for seventeen years of my life would remain so.  The friends that I depended upon for encouragement and laughs would be consistent.  That was not the case.
     I found that things changed.  A lot.  And the place that I called home was no longer home.  I guess that is how life plays out sometimes.  Things are not 100% throughout time.  We grow up, move, get married, have kids, dive into professions, and make new lives with new people.  I am not blaming anyone.  It's just that the interactions with old friends over  the Christmas break of 2014 became a blunt realization that my life was no longer the same, and probably won't ever be.  The fantasy that a moment can last forever is just that.  For the clock continues to count the seconds that pass away, and we grow up.  We grow out.  The people and places we encounter pass just as quickly as they come sometimes.  I have memories of the wonderful trips and conversations I had with some of my Missoula friends.  And I look back wondering how almost a decade has passed since my first mission trip.  How fifteen years ago, I was still in the elementary school, with big plans and big dreams...couldn't wait for me to grow up so I could make those dreams happen.  I remember that twenty years ago, I was just a little girl with no cares in the world.
     How did everything change in such a flash?  Why did it have to change?  Couldn't my plans have stayed the way I hoped they would be?  Or could at least the relationships I had growing up have strengthened rather than phase out?  Why couldn't have home stayed as home?
     I know that the Bible says not to complain, but what happened over the holiday break was an emotional tearing.  And rather than just confine my thoughts into an excruciating, lonely melancholy, I decided to let God know exactly how I felt about this new chapter of my life.  Or rather, another layer to this new chapter of my life.  I was finally just fine with no longer being in Missoula.  What I was not okay with was being alone.  And that was how I felt. So, I wrote a poem.  Not much of an uplifting one at that.  It does mourn the passing of experiences into memories, wishing that those moments could stay present. It wasn't enough that my plans had already been turned upside down.  But the things I had were no longer there.  Thus:

Time likes to mock

Like hyenas hackle at lion cubs.

Like the jeers for a failed jokester

In the presence of an audience.

It taunts the heart with hope and desire,

Forcing humanity to wait

In pain and in length.

The Clock becomes sluggish in the wanting,

Yet it becomes fleeting in the moments needed.

Dreary drudges and dreams fast forward

To become past memories

In an instant…

I remember when I was a child.

Joy expound; doubt did not exist.

Hope deepened; fear was unheard.

Today was only ever the day that existed.

Laughter filled the air as the new-born dew tickled my toes.

And the sun warmed my skin with my breathing heart

In the morning; Fall-covered leaves painted the landscape

In the afternoon, and in the evening, delight -

Flakes of snow rested on my freckles

In a seamless memory.  A year was a day.

Months became mere seconds.

I was a child…once…

Before the lines of Age

Marred my saccharine innocence through

The continuation of introductions to Tomorrow.

     Home had a new zip code.  Or at the moment, I realized that what I could call "Home" didn't have one.  I was in a stuck in-between place, where my present was still rough, and then I found out what I hoped to be a safe-haven isn't any longer the net it used to be for me.  It brings in new questions for me, particularly - am I going to trust Jesus with everything?  It's a lot easier to answer when there is a net.  When there is a trail to follow back to.  What I had written wasn't blasphemous, I don't believe.  But, I was suddenly made aware that life itself is not constant.  At this time in my life, I have trails to visit the child-comforts I once had, but they are no longer the same trails back to home.
     In the midst of this change, I have realized that the only thing that is constant is God and His faithfulness.  No matter where I am, who I know, how the days of my life are being written...I know I need to hold onto Him.  It's been a hard gulp to swallow.  It would be if you never had reason to fully trust God, because there were others holding you up.  And now, I am in a place (literally - I live in the boondocks, right next to the mountains where there is no gas station or store for another 30 miles) where the only thing I can do is to trust Jesus.  I have to, and will, make my home in Him.