Simplicity of the Holidays

As I sit here in my parent's living room, sipping my peppermint tea and eating date nut cookies made lovingly by my Aunt, I am reminded of the simple pleasure of being around family. I thought, as I sipped my tea, that later -- when I go to bed -- I would journal about the day's events. Then it dawned on me that by the time I arrived in bed the fire would have died down, the tea would be cold, and I would be so tired that I could not even hold a pen in my hand much less keep my eyes open long enough to write. So, instead I take to the world wide web, the blog, the public journal. Which, to my old fashioned heart, sort of pains me. Since I've been home, on break, after the day's events I spend evenings on journeys with such characters like Puddn'head Wilson who solved a murder on the banks of the Mississippi River and have even traveled to the dwarf mountains with Bilbo Baggins and his motley crew; so, to type my thoughts instead of penning words on the pages on a blank journal takes a little bit of joy out of me. It's this mixing of the world of technology and the old fashioned life of simplicity that I find hard to balance. In my heart, I find joy in sitting on the couch, curled up in my heated fleece blanket flipping through the pages of adventures penned by great men such as Mark Twain and J.R.R Tolkein; yet I find the same joy - and some humor - in sitting on the same couch, curled up in the same heated fleece blanket playing words with friends with my parents - all of us sitting next to each other on our cellular devices. Instead of pulling out the board game scrabble, we play a game on our phones. It is quite humorous. I think the most joy I've found, in these days of Christmas and New Year holidays, is just being with family. So, whether it be old fashioned in nature, or flooded with newer technology, being surrounded by family keeps my spirits up. My birthday brought 30 plus family members to my parent's home and I loved every minute of having everyone from my grandparents to my baby cousins all under one roof.

I have relished in delight as my immediate family played the board game of taboo and the laughter that my brother brought made even losing fun. Even as I type this little entry of thoughts my dad dances to a song playing from a commercial on the TV and I am again delighted. I spent the day with my cousin, whom understands my heart in ways that no one else can, and I am reminded that even a cup of coffee and a small chat can bring warmth to a sometimes sad heart. I am blessed. I think I've just loved being saturated in the goodness that the Lord has brought into my life, and have found such pleasure in simple routines. Cooking and shopping with mom, seeing old friends, putting on PJs at 7pm and hanging with the parents at night has been so refreshing to this worn out soul. So, I guess in retrospect it really isn't the day's events that I want to journal. It's the moments with loved ones that I want to cherish, hold close and never let go. I will not even think about going back to reality, back to the cold, lonely house, and busier times. I will stay here and reflect under my heated fleece blanket, sipping my peppermint tea, savoring the last of my date nut cookies about the life the Lord has blessed me with.

My Favorite Poem

While entering upon the era of American Romanticism in my lesson planning, I stumbled upon my favorite poem. Longfellow reminds me of the pleasures of escaping reality, his connotations bring me on an adventure, and the assonance found in the meter soothes my soul. The Father in the poem reminds me of my own dad and how he used to tell us bedtime stories each night. This poem brings comfort and nostalgia to my heart.



Enjoy!



The Children's Hour


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

Life

Living by myself for a couple of years has left me too introspective. I'm not even sure that I should let the digital world know my thoughts, but with no one else around I feel I am left with no choice. I look at this poor recapturing of a picture hanging in my office (compliments of Jason Howell) and I see me. Of course, literately it is me, but I mean the person I am inside too. This picture, I feel, captures the very essence of how I see myself, and believe shows my personality. I love to laugh, I love playing with children in the Bronx, I love goofing off, dancing, and sharing the words of Jesus to others. I am young at heart and I just love people. I feel in the last couple of months I've lost that part of me. I don't feel quite so happy on the inside and find myself crying - a lot. I feel as if I am living vicariously through song lyrics. To echo the words of Adele,I am "chasing pavements". I make the same mistakes, fall for the wrong guys, and let my job consume me. These days, as John Mayer sings, I am "dreaming with a broken heart" and it is not fun. I keep staring at that picture hoping to get that girl back, but it's useless. Though I am broken hearted, watching my dream fly through the window, I am reminded that I am not alone. I have a wealth of family and friends that support me. My parents and siblings are a constant source of encouragement and wisdom. Elizabeth T. is my jiminy cricket, The Fosters, Stones, and Emily Kessler have all poured a large of amount of love my way. I guess I want to take this time out and say I'm sorry for being so consumed with my own troubles that I neglect to hurt with others, to look beyond myself. I am so tired of fighting this fight. I am so tired of being confused and watching my dream go somewhere else. I want to find that girl in the picture again.

I'm okay, but I'm not okay

Let me just go ahead and say it, last week was terrible. I will not divulge the details of my week's experience, but it has left me emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. This exhaustion, suprisingly not pointless, has helped me in some ways see that even though I'm not "okay", I am "okay".

Here I am approaching my 30th birthday and only now feel like I'm finally growing. I am finally opening my eyes to the truths God has been trying to teach me all along. Unfortunately, it takes walking through the fire to see that when you come out you may be burned, but you are not scarred. I hate walking through the fire, I hate crying, I hate the pain it leaves me with; I hate knowing that it helps me grow and is therefore necessary.


For years I've experienced the same kind of disappointment. My past is a history of repeated trials that seemingly never change. For too long I've let my circumstances dictate my emotions, my beliefs, and my attitude. I'm embarrassed about the way I've acted, yet somehow I continued to make the same mistakes. I've cried out to God, prayed for answers and always felt a silence in response. I don't understand why the same thing keeps happening to me. I don't understand a lot of things. One thing I do understand is that I'm a confused girl. More than one recent experience has led me to this state. But, this time I feel I've grown.


These are the lies I've listened to:
No one wants you.
You aren't captivating enough.
You're alone.
You will never get married.
Your desires don't matter.
No one wants to be like you (not a good role model).


In previous years, I would have been led to bitterness, resentment, anger, and self-pity. I'm choosing this time to not abandon God in the process, but to worship Him. I still may not understand why things happen to me. I'm still confused, but I now know how to combat those lies with the truth. God's word teaches me that the Lord satisfies all of those things and there is no need for me to make myself miserable. He has been my shelter, my comfort, my rock and He is just so incredibly amazing. Everyday I am thankful for his patience with me, that He sees and understands my pain, and that He genuinely cares. Besides, this life is not about me.


Here are the truths I've come to cherish:
The Lord wants me.
I'm never alone.
The Lord is captivating me.
I don't know if I'll get married, but I don't have to put an absolute on it.
My desires matter and more importantly I want to embrace the Lord's desires.


To be honest, I'm still confused about a particular situation. I'm still incredibly confused and desperately seeking some answers. I am so confused I don't know what to do with myself, and I'm SAD. But, I'm okay - so you see I'm not okay, but I am okay. Part of that peace comes from having friends who encourage me, speak truth to me, love me and listen to my cries.

So, I end with this:
My prayer is that I would carry this season of my life with grace. My prayer is that, though I was vague,this honesty can help someone else out with their struggles. My prayer is that you would choose God in the midst of the fire and not walk away.

The Year of the Bearcat - First Two Weeks

The aroma of cinnamon and spice lingers in the air as I grab the nearest cardigan before I go out for a walk in the nice crisp air of September. Wait a second, it smells like sweat, humidity is making my hair frizz and poof, and I grabbing the nearest pair of shorts for my walk. What happened to the flavors of Fall? I think I was just dreaming or wishfully thinking of what it might be like now that school has started. With the beginning of school I am always reminded of Fall, yet Fall isn't quite here. But I'm not here to talk about the weather, I'm here to talk about school. This year I am teaching at Ruston High School, a place of great professional development, helpful and encouraging co-workers, and bright students. I think I was more excited to be at school with my annotation stations at the ready than my kids. All 130 of my eleventh grade students came shuffling into room 228 either sleepy-eyed, or ready to cause to trouble. It was a week of rules, routines, and procedures and by the end of it I was exhausted. In a mere five days I went from laying by the pool, being the "cool" adult to hang out with to the old lady with no life. Bed time comes early now, and I don't get to do many things socially. It doesn't matter though because in that week I remembered why I teach - I love the kids. Every single one of them. Well, I think our times of ease have now disappeared as the second week has come to a close. My poor students just stared at me everyday as I basically threw up information on them about the Declaration of Independence (our first read of the year). Their blank stares and lack of involvement in the groups told me it is time to slow down. So, I tried to take it a step back and BAM! Hurricane Issac ruined all my plans. He came with all his rain and wind, soaking up our grounds, turning off our power and forcing our kids to stay home from school. That stupid hurricane pushed back my assignments and for the first time in years I actually wanted to be in school. But hurricanes don't care about stuff like that. By Friday the hurricane had diminished, but school spirit had not. The students at Ruston High were awakened (because you know they were still sleeping in the halls when they got to school) by the drum line going up and down the halls playing music signaling football season has begun and no rain will stop us. The changing of classes brought the melody "eye of the tiger" over the loudspeaker and I may or may not have danced a bit in the classroom waiting for students to arrive. The kids were excited, the pep rally was krunk and despite the bouts of rain the football game went on as planned. Standing by the band and my pom squad girls, friday night, I knew it was going to be a great year... the year of the Bearcat. Tomorrow I might be singing a different tune when I tell my students they have to annotate the Declaration of Independence

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Spring Time!

Oh, Blog it has been so long since I have typed my thoughts! I think the new spring weather has given me inspiration to carry on in my writing endeavors.

I was looking through my old journal entries today and came across one that matched by delight in anticipation of new springtime adventures. Every time I travel, during this season, I find many vehicles with canoes strapped on top and I become jealous. Jealous for the adventure of what spring/summer holds. So, in my mind I write the adventurer a letter...

Dear Jeep Cherokee with the canoe on your roof,
You are so cool. You probably didn't notice me on the road, but I was the curly, brown headed girl in the bluish grey Versa belting out the words to "Play that Funky Music White Boy." You might have seen me, and chuckled at my silly behavior. Whatever the case may be, we travel the same interstate. You have not escaped my notice, and though our destinations may be different, I wonder....what adventure lies ahead?"

So, here I am daydreaming about adventure, when there are multiple stacks of paper to grade. Papers or no papers, I love this weather and so what do I do? I take Shakespeare to the park. The sun on my skin, the breeze in my hair gives me a little happiness and I feel renewed. I think that if Shakespeare was really with me he would agree with my mood and he would recite his sonnet, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He knew the summer was beautiful, so I take him to the park.

Words

Overwhelmed, stressed, pulled, stretched, and worn out are words that would enter my mind and body and just stay there festering as if to plant themselves inside me for a long period of time. "Just survive, Dana", "you are a new teacher, all you can do is just take one day at a time and hope for the best." Words, too many words, none of them meaning anything but sadness. I spent the last few months discouraged. Yes, as a new teacher I am just trying to survive and feel like I'm not doing a very good job at it. No matter the lesson plan I felt like, again, words would circulate the air around me - hit the wall - and fall flat on the floor. It was not only in the classroom. I felt disconnected from friends, as if none of my words that formed into stories were clever enough, relate able enough, wise enough. In my prayers, again, my words felt like they hit the ceiling then fell back to the ground. At home, I would want to talk - let the words loose to fly free and land in someone else's ears to return to me with advice or at least have a landing place, other than the floor. But at home, there is no one. It is a place devoid of words and the silence eats me alive sometimes.

"Dana, you are feeling sorry for yourself." "You are too hard on yourself." I know, I know. All, I can say in response to this battle with words is that it is honestly how I feel, or well felt. Do I want to walk around with a rain cloud over my head? No! So, things are going to change. I don't know how, but I'm going to try.

CHILD OF GOD's!!!!! So, through HIM you are all of those things... STRONG, MIGHTY, POWERFUL, ANNOINTED, KIND, BRAVE. These are the words that I want to fill my mind and body with, especially the Brave part. Being strong is one thing I have never considered myself. The word itself gives a connotation of greatness. I want to feel connected again, I don't want silence to slowly degrade me. So, thanks to my friend Jenny, a suggestion to surround myself with little bits of happiness in the hopes of reminding me who I really am, has opened the door to better thoughts. Today's happiness - little Elvine. Elvine is my compassion child. Her picture is posted on my refrigerator and even though I do not know her, I love her. Just seeing her picture makes me smile. Still there is silence, but I'm finding some joy in it.

Here is the simple truth.... Life is hard, but God is good and He brings those bits of happiness to my heart. So, I open my mind, body and heart in preparation to hear words of hope, happiness, and joy.