Dear Baby Hall

Your name unknown

Provokes lingering questions.

I never met you - yet,

The heart becomes perplexed

As I miss you.

Never allowed a proper goodbye;

Nevertheless: I am haunted

By the fact that I never received

A sufficient hello.

An unexplainable pain suddenly maims

As I admit the absence

Of a sibling I should have known.  

Usual days fail to remind

My forgetfulness of you.

A sudden word or picture

Within a moment

Jots back to the loss

Unknown how to speak,

Yet, heavy to bear sometimes.

How can one love someone

They unknowingly lost, until

Years’ closets revealed the webs’

Tapestry of the story

You should’ve played?

I wonder if I am the only

Who thinks about what could’ve been.

Brother probably doesn’t even know.

Dad is willing to talk when asked;

Mom never mentions you.

As great the hurt I hold,

I can only imagine

The wounds she withholds from the world,

Forging a perpetual secret bleeding.

I cannot answer why.  I don’t know.

Is there any blame;

Is it anyone’s fault?

I don’t know.  But I choose to believe

God is good; this is the hope I hold.

Advised to know

You are Home;

This is my only comfort.

What could’ve been is not what is.

And yet, neither of us

Know what will be.

Eternity’s pages yet to be

Written and revealed.

But someday I will meet you,

See you and know you.

Until then…

Love you, and forever in my heart,

Laura Emily

What I Wish I Could Say (To My Mother)

What can I say to you, Mother, Muti, Mom, Madre? The journey since my birth until now have ebbed in ways counted in moments of lessons only learned by walking with one another.  Only until now, have been able to understand what I once was blind to.

The second our faces met, new life - a new chapter formed  a new curvature to your being as your womb knitted my existence.  Staring down fear, you dared to keep me when abandonment threatened...

You carried me more than I could know; sang lullabies more than I could list.  You bore me more than the minute I entered earth; spoke holy utterances over me more than what can be accounted.

And yet, I have a feeling that you are unaware  of the value you hold…“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of all?”

As you are:

Gifted by the One  who gives only good gifts, you have a mind full of hopes, dreams and passions.  Often laid aside, seating your loves in positions pursuing callings, yet failing to follow.  It’s time to rise, Mom.  Gratitude bursts upon the breath  I found on your breast.  Yet…You are more than the chord binding yourself to me.  Something lies dormant  waiting to release into full bloom.

Unseen beauty yet to beheld.  Gentle strength found in a delicate caress of fingers; a countenance shares stories filled with unmentioned tears; laughter that requires a second wind.  A bob in the head that beats with the music, and a booty that knows how to groove in every moment of joy.  After thirty years, Dad’s still got the hots.  I swear, he does more now than when you first said hello.  

I know you warn me to not become like you.  However, there is so much of you in me.  Looking at my reflection, it’s not hard to find the roots of the tree from which my apple fell.  A love so deep that has no boundaries; a loyalty tested true.  A song ever on my lips, and a boldness to be amused and make it known.  Imagination and creation flow through us: you with the needle and thread; I with my pen and lens.  Like mother, like daughter.  It isn’t so bad.

So, as you receive your congratulations on this day, know that I am so thankful to you, being my mother.  Furthermore, take hold of the gift you are as the woman God made you to be in all of His fullness.  There is a grace that covers you, veiling a masterpiece He is continuing to form in you. With or without me by your side, forever bound by a chord; know that you are most cherished.

Ich liebe dich, Muti  (I love you, Mom),

Laura Emily.

Why Stay?

    Three weeks left of the school year, and I have turned in my resignation for a full-time teaching position.  Resigned, because, I was given a notice of non-renewal.  I inquired about transferring into another teaching position.  Two years ago, I was allowed to do that.  However, it was made very clear that I am not be a teacher next year. The only position I can take is a TA or subbing.  A door closed.

    Honestly, I’ve been fighting feelings of bitterness, holding grudges...I’ve been fighting quite a while now.  It started back in February.  I was trying to manage my classroom as I should, but I guess I misunderstood some things, and in summary and from my perspective, I increasingly became more confused and frustrated of what was being required of me.  Never voicing it to the principal, out of fear that I may be pointing fingers when I shouldn’t, and secondly, feeling like a failure and worrying how he might see my capabilities, I put myself in a position in which I self-prophesied my doom.  There was a point in which I was so discouraged that I was fed up. I would have rather wanted to sub.  

    “Just let me be done!  I’m tired of the pressure!  I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough...Never doing things perfectly…”  After all, last year, I was told my principal that there was no more room for forgiveness.  At some level, I know he was trying to push me to get better, but after another year, I wonder if he saw any of my growth.  For two months, I fought depression.  I held off the thoughts that I was stupid, and not making a difference.  I regressed in believing that my supervisors should’ve encouraged me more.  They should have taken notice of the things I was doing well, but nothing was said.  All that was seen was my lack.  Subsequently, temptation to believe my identity was held in my role as a teacher seeped into my psyche.  It was about a month ago that I finally looked around, heard what my TA was saying, and realized that I am more than what was being recognized.  Am I the perfect teacher?  Am I superior?  Not yet.  I still have a lot to learn.  However, I know that my students are learning, and I am making a positive impact.

    There are questions of underlying motives...As awkward to accuse: is the District Administration aiming to have Native teachers to the point that they will make white teachers step down when non-tenured?  I would hate to have that be the truth.  Nonetheless, even if it is the truth, what more can I do?  The more I think upon possibility, it does stir up bitterness, disdain, and unforgiveness. 

    Man.  Just right when I finally regained the confidence of my abilities, this last blow came.  There are a mix of emotions about the whole circumstance.  And with one door closed, questions arise.  Namely, what will I do for the next school year?  Most people have advised that I should just move on.  Write a resume, start applying for teaching jobs elsewhere.

    People look complexed when I give them the answer I have.  For good reason, too.  Anyone who would find themselves in my position would readily move on.  And yet, I am choosing to stay.  I am staying when it all seems ludicrous. 

*****

    So, why stay?  

    During the internal discourse I was fighting inside my brain, I once had a dream.  I had been telling myself I wanted to go “home” (which unfortunately, usually did NOT mean back to my hometown, but was actually a pseudonym for suicidal thing, i.e. home = heaven).  In the dream, I left Browning, and returned to my parents’ home.  But the students I had this year followed me.  Then Jesus suddenly came back.  I was able to leave the house and go with Jesus; some of my students were able to come with me.  However, there were a few faces where they were NOT allowed to leave the house; every time they tried to open the door, the knob was locked, leaving the students behind after Jesus came back.  This dream confirmed for me that if I left, I would be leaving a position where my influence is vital to show and share the gospel with students.  I needed to stay on the Blackfeet Rez.

    However, I was still unsure, at the time, if I wanted to teach full-time.  I was beat down and ready to move on from the criticism of what I was doing wrong.  “Damned if I do; damned if I don’t.”  I really did come to the conclusion that subbing was the answer to step away from the discouraging criticism, and at some level, believed to be unneeded.  (It’s one thing to be directive, but living with the fear that every step I make would be the wrong is too much, sometimes.)  I had the confirmation that I needed to stay on the Blackfeet Rez (the thought crossed my mind to move to another Rez, and make it easier on me).  

    While working through my counseling book, on anxiety, it brought up that avoidance continues the process of anxiousness.  Opposed to what the mind whispers, trying to run away from a problem fosters fear more so.  It is the facing what discourages us that will make us overcomers. Running away to another job would be a form of avoidance, after all I have been through.  Within the next couple days, I was reading in 2 Corinthians 12:7-9, how Paul asked God to take away a thorn.  God refused.  It reminded my situation with my job.  The thorn being criticism.  The conversation with God went as such:

        God: “It would be easy to sub.”

        Me: “I would be removing the thorn of criticism rather than learning how to not crumble when under it.”

        “Bingo.  And if you sub, then you will enter a desert season (not growing in this area)...You will grow so much as an educator full-time than as a sub.  Subs are not held as much accountable, nor do they have as much influence.  Teaching is your ministry.”

*****

    Three weeks til the summer break and what does all of this background mean, concerning the coming August?  First, I believe that God wants me to stay with my Blackfeet people.  He is not done working through me here.  Secondly, God doesn’t want me to shy away from a full-time position, even after all the criticism I believe I received the last three months.  

    It sounds a bit counterintuitive...how can I be convinced that God would want me to stay, and yet, simultaneously, want me to go after a full-time teaching position (especially when the district is closing that position to me)?  Truth is, I am assured that God is going take care of my needs.  When I first moved to Browning, I was able to live substantially on a sub wage.  I have figured if I need anymore income, I can sell photos and do photoshoots on the side, as well.  At this moment, I have been told blatantly that I am not allowed to teach.  However, in the same day of this notice, I was told of other possible news that might shift things by this fall.  If so, a full-time teaching position just may open up.  I believe God was assuring me that if this change does occur, not to hold onto any grudges and refuse a position, based on the pain I have felt now.  I must let go, and allow God to use me where ever He decides to position me.

    It is not an easy thing to convince others of.  Coworkers and even those closest to me are telling me that it is better to move on.  My own mother has told me that I should try to look for a job in Kalispell or Cut Bank.  I stopped her and told her, “You don’t like me living in Browning, do you?” 

    “Laura, you have had it so hard [being on the Reservation].  I just want you happy.”  She’s not being racist, but she is pointing out something that is very evident.  It is not easy living on the Rez.  It has pained her to see me in pain.

    I explained to my mother that I know that I have had it hard.  I agree.  I am subbing, possibly becoming a TA if/when offered, but the fact of the matter is I am staying.  I am not mourning the loss of a job.  I am not seeking affirmation in a person who does not determine my identity.  Through this process, God is growing me and showing me that my identity lies in Him, not in what others’ determine.  But I cannot leave the Rez. There is a people who God loves here, and He has not released me from this place.  Yes, it has been hard.  However, I have Jesus.  I have hope.  How much harder is it for those who don’t know Jesus?  Yes, I want to be happy.  That being said, what brings me happiness is people finding Jesus and giving their lives to Him.  Life is not easy, and we shouldn’t expect it to be, just because we are Christians.  In fact, the opposite is true.  There are Christians all over the world being persecuted for their faith...some do take the chance to move elsewhere, and it gives them opportunities to share the gospel with a new group of people.  However, some refuse to leave, even at the threat of their lives.  All so that others may come to know Jesus.

    Somehow, a loss of a job pales in comparison to the loss of your head.  And at the end of it all, if people gain Christ in the face of our lost, there is glory in it for His Name.  That is that.  I must stay. 

A Lesson From a Potter

     Potter's Field Ministries came to town, yesterday, for a Good Friday service.  It was much needed, and there were a few take away points.  However, the following is what is striking me the most from what I learned last night:

"A potter never sees himself as dirty while working with clay. He doesn't see it as mud; rather he sees the clay as material; - the same way a painter sees paint or a carver with wood.

We are so quick to judge ourselves by our past: the scars, the jagged edges of our personality and mistakes, the times of growth and the times of pain. We are so quick to believe what everybody else sees in us, because they, too, see the process. However, they, too, do not see the finished product.

Remember, the Great Potter, already has the finished work in mind; He is just actively molding it. Do not become discouraged by what you see in the mirror; God's work in you is NOT done. Do not strive to soften the edges, mold the forms - it is not a work that we can complete. That is why Jesus had to come in. Trust in God. Give yourself grace, and trust that the Potter is gonna do what He means to do in you.  (Ephesians 2:10; Philippians 1:6; Colossians 1:27)"

Disowning an Inheritance: Done with the Self-Loathing

     I thought I had conquered this thing.  I learned to sink into the arms of my Heavenly Father when storms arose; I learned to cling to Him in my desperate hour, and to be content to long for Him in the hours of my joy.  But in the last two months, things have not been so.  Without going into much detail, I have been facing these same demons again.  Every which way, I wasn’t doing something right.  I would do something - all with good intentions - yet, not doing it well enough.  I would do something wrong, say something wrong.  Every turn, it felt - with less than a better way to phrase - “damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”  In my psyche, I felt jumbled.  Confused about what and where I was making my mistakes.  The more I was aware of my flaws, I only became more apt to commit them all the more.  Have you ever been in that position?  It sucks.  It’s despairing.  It’s an almost hopeless feeling.  I was tired of fighting.  I just wanted to be done.  Who cares?  If I am not wanted, why try to convince them otherwise?

     Anxiety...fear...depression...imperfect. That has been the culprit.  I am imperfect. 

     I know that I am not perfect.  I know that I am human.  Actually, Daddy God has been showing me that it’s okay.  He’s the good work in me, not myself.  But when someone else saw my flaws, and only spoke to me when I made them, it triggered something of the past.  I was no longer the confident daughter of the King.  I became, once again, the wretched girl who is no longer good enough.  No matter if the intention was to grow me, I felt defeated.  I have felt defeated for two months straight.  Over the course of my life, I no only inherited anxiety from my grandmother, but I constantly have feared the disdain of others’ opinion of me.  I know that God has made me, but there is this insistent pressure to believe the words that carry the most weight are the ones that I can see their faces.  Their impact is more immediate.  The blows have been cut deep and cut daily.  Once I could gain enough courage to hold onto the encouragement God was so desperately speaking to me to believe, another left hook runs in right field, tripping me to fall on my knees with a slump of defeat.  I want to get back up.  Stand firm.  Never back down, and never fear that I would fall.  Yet, here I am.

      It’s been nearly three decades with having this chain of anxiety tied around my waist.  Sure, I am strong.  Yet, this strength carries a cost in which it is too much to bear.  I am either too much to share my burden, or I slowly asphyxiate from my own isolation; a measure taken to not cause any worry for other loved ones in my life.  But this isn’t living, and surely not living in the purpose and power of Christ.  The worst of it is I know who I am in Christ.  I know all the Bible verses, and how I should think.  “I know better, so I should do better,”  I tell myself.  And that statement causes a condemnation that should not be my own.  Where God’s grace is meant to cover my heartache and brokenness, I fall into subjection to a law that has already been fulfilled. I have had enough.   I have had enough of not feeling like I am not good enough.  I have had enough of living in courage, and yet, when stepping into boldness, I suddenly become fearful of the rejected response I secretly wish (yet still expect to occur) won’t come.  I am tired of not caring, because I care too much of what people think.  I am tired of knowing that my identity is in Christ, but yet, I am constantly living a definition written by other men and women.  I am tired of being wrecked by wounds that I inflict, because I determine my situation to be the revelation of truth.  I am tired of not resting.  I have had enough of not being enough. 

     I am determined, however.  Ever since I was born, I was a fighter.  Call me stubborn; sometimes I wonder if it does me some good, though.  My mind may have been ravished by lies draining the rivers of life from my soul, but there is enough of His Holy Spirit seeping in to convince me that I know what I am believing is a lie.  Does that make sense?  I know I have been discouraged, and yet, I have enough of His truth in me to make me restless; to make me not content with just lying down dead in the face of my enemies.  Their names: anxiety, fear, failure, defeat.  So, I am getting back up.  Pick up that Sword and cut out the arrows that have poisoned me.  Their venom has been swimming in the midst of Salvation’s blood, but I aim to not be finished with allowing it to continue to “water” the soil of my heart.  I am going to let God do His perfect work in me. Oma, I am thankful for the heritage you left me.  You desired after God, and had a heart of worship.  The women of your family were prayer warriors.  But there is thing I must no longer receive from you.  Bid me no disdain for disowning the inheritance of anxiety.  I am done with the self-loathing, and I want to learn to stand in the truth of God fully.  I am ready to believe all He has said about me, and His heart for me. How this shall look: to be continued...  

The Wildnerness of Anxiousness

Can you say,

“I love you,”

When I am unlovable?

Can you hold me

When my frustrations flails

Through the tip of my tongue,

Bearing down blades that cut.

If not careful, you may shed blood.

If you are not aware, you will not see

How may scars I have already borne to my own.

I know I am not perfect.

I know that I should be content with this fact.

But I am not.  I still seek

That I may do the right thing,

And stop failing in trying.

I feel so alone.

Does anyone actually understand?

Or are the intensity of my emotions

The root of lack of sleep;

Excuses to make mountains

Out of mole hills?

I look left when I should go right.

I take two steps backward,

Instead of moving forward…

I hate myself for it.

And I hate myself for hating myself.

Sorry for the confusion I cause.

Sorry for the mess I stir up,

But all I’m trying to do is fight

The accusations that penetrate my mind.

It’s not enough.

I’ve never been enough…

The faster I run, the more holes I fall

In the name of justification.

I keep circling.  

All I want to do stop playing

Ring-a-round-a posies

With anxiousness; when will it end

Determining my identity?

I am hurt.

I have been healed, but I am now asking,

When will I finally get

To be completely whole?