A Letter To Myself: 2013 - 2014

A little background: Each school year, some time in the first month, I sit an pen a letter to myself about the year to come. Prayerfully and thoughtfully considered, this letter is something I come back to from time to time and use as a tool to reflect at year's end.

It's hard to know exactly why I waited a month into the school year to write this letter to myself... To this year... But here it is, Columbus Day weekend, and I'm finally still long enough to get it done. Sometimes, we wait because we have no choice and sometimes waiting is the product of both circumstance and patience. Maybe it's a hope that somewhere in the not so distant future, something will be improved enough that the effort we put forward will be worth it and the example we set will actually be something worth following.

There is a strong river of complacency that sometimes runs through me. Make it easier. Make it comfortable. Three years into this adventure God set me on at my school and the river is pushing against the dam of my conscience and what I know God wants from me. Perhaps that why this letter had to happen one month in... So it wouldn't be filled with remnants of years past or good intentions, but rather that its landscape would be peppered with informed conviction and words spoken to particular rather than generic truths.

The effort to write this letter each year may seem redundant, but to me it's an anchor... A rock in the storm of year long, and often life-long, investment. Everything means something and to the hundreds of kids I will have the privilege of serving this year, the window of intentionality must be open... Otherwise, the days are just words on a board, formulas in a mind, and a time that was spent, but not necessarily spent well. I once read that great leaders care about depth, not distance... And they lead with the windows wide open. Ten years into this journey, it's still a push to prioritize all those things. There is risk in caring about depth as there is risk in being vulnerable as a leader... But who can follow someone they do not know?

All along, I thought the verse that would motivate this year would be Hebrews 10:39 as I felt God pushing me to not shrink back. And while that is still a truth governing over my fears and hesitations, it is the simplicity of 1 Timothy 6:20 that aims its arrow of conviction and motivation towards the year that is to come. "Guard what has been entrusted to you." It starts with the two that I mentor, outward towards the girls on my team, extending to the students in my room, and beyond to every person God distinctly brings and keeps in my life this year. To live a year with intent is simply to ask God what he wants and then try to do it. I will fail at times, do things that require apologies at others, but live and work with an awareness that influence and obedience aren't met through personal frivolity or disengaging from the tasks that God asks us to do.

There is a loss of self that occurs when the classroom doors are opened and the students file in. To me, it may be year ten, but to them it is year one and there is no mundane in the vast unknowing of the first time. The timeliness of this note is not lost on me. I write from a room in a house after what I'd say was the most intense in all my years of teaching. To get in the trenches and live life with teenagers is to live willingly exposed knowing their hurts will sometimes be yours. Six years ago, a student passed away and that changed my teaching career forever. That year asked me the question of whether or not I'd forever and always teach with the windows open aware that hurt and tears would follow because they just do when things mean a lot to you. This year, I type as a child who helped define the triumphs and trials of last year, mourns the death of her father.

A school is not a place that is simply filled with assignments and agendas. A school is a place where depth and distance are contemplated and decided upon based on the very people that model them. To guard what has been entrusted to me is to accept the unwilling and the challenging as much as it is to embrace the grateful and exciting. To not just plod along through the fogs and winters of the year, but to descend into the trenches knowing that it could puncture the heart... And trusting that not only would that be okay, but it would absolutely be worth it.

A decade in, and my gait should not change. To have influence is the greatest gift and responsibility God can give. To not do it in my own power, the great challenge. To be able to say in June, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” is the finish line that will push me through every trough and every crest. There is no depth without risk, without vulnerability. Be all in, guard what has been entrusted to me, rely on God to get me there. Go to the cross willingly and when that seems too hard to do, ask the cross to meet me instead. Whatever I need will be waiting there for me. Connection is based on honesty, so don't be afraid to live with the windows wide open and watch what God will do.

A few thoughts on Africa...

Somewhere between thoughts and feelings is what actually happens. There are perfect days when hours of thoughts roll around in my head, processing two weeks of amazing, considering the next thing. I’m at an airport, in transit, iPod and a latte, at a table in a sunny spot looking out at planes taking off and landing. If I have to be alone today, I want to be alone like this. This day does not record itself as a pivotal day between what happened and what will, but this is the day when thoughts are sorted, words are written, and the story of the last two weeks comes together.

 

It would be hard to go to Africa and not be challenged or amazed. There is something about every mission that tugs at my heart, but Africa has so many faces, moments, and stories to share that summarizing seems like the hardest thing in the world. But, it is a privilege to do so. To share about the days spent with hundreds of children, many of whom are orphans, the walks through the villages with them tugging at my hand, the honor to pray for people in their homes, and the humbling joy that comes from sharing God’s word with these brothers and sisters. Nearly everyone who is closest to me has been to this continent and it has gotten inside them – it is a family that I am now thankful to be a part of.

As if Zambia – its people, its beauty, its body of believers – had not been enough, there was also the component of leading a group of college students through this experience. Watching and sorting through thoughts as they processed being challenged by God, witnessing a slum for the first time, and were being transformed through the entire experience… It was one of the most humbling things I have been a part of in a long time. Often times, when God tries to change us, we resist… These students didn’t. They embraced it, spoke about it, and did what God was asking them to do. Growth alone is inspiring. Growth without resisting is straight up convicting. In these moments, there were rarely words… Just tears and a confrontation that if they could do what God was asking them to do, then so could I.

It’s been a week since I’ve returned and the thoughts of all that happened are still very present, still pushing against my tear ducts. I don’t know why God has let me see what I have seen this year, but I am grateful. Grateful for the chance to learn from people who have time and actually spend it on the salvation of souls. Grateful for the chance to be in the family of people who do not shrink back from what God has asked them to do. Grateful to spend time with the teachers who faitfully serve classes of 120 students because they know that this is exactly what God called them to do. Grateful to see a group of teenage girls make commitments to Christ on a day when we weren’t even planning on going to do ministry there. Grateful for the souls who heard the word for the first time and, in response, said that what they heard that day they will never let it die… That it would be in that village forever. Grateful for the testimonies that books could be written about, but instead, hide in villages in rural towns in Africa and reveal themselves as presents when opened on a trip like this.

 

It would be hard to leave a trip like this without gratitude. I have met brothers and sisters, made friends and family, and it all leaves me with a sense of awe of what the church is and is meant to be. Thank you Africa, for giving to me exactly what you gave to so many of my friends that have gone before me. You showed me your heart and, in response, I carry your heart in mine.

 

To Define A Year...

To define a year is a difficult thing. A firm believer in reflection, I can’t get away from this semi-addictive process of corralling the fragments of a school year and looking for the patterns and pieces that all come together under what God was doing over the last ten months. After last year, I had high and maybe even heavy expectations about what would happen between August and June. (To read more about that, go here: http://www.cslewisinstitute.org/Answering_Gods_Call_in_the_Public_Schools_page1)

Fair or not, I expected this year to be worthy of reflection and it has been exactly that. It all started with this quote: “Enlarge my territory and increase my impact. Attempt something large enough that failure is guaranteed – Unless God steps in.”

That’s a big quote to be confronted with. It’s a completely intimidating notion at the onset because you know that you know that you know that there is an actual process intended to help you learn it. Within weeks of having God put this quote in front of me I gained a volleyball team, a teacher to mentor, and a student-teacher to advise. As the year went on, I gained specific young people to mentor, a chance to develop leaders and athletes in Korea, and an opportunity to travel and do the same thing again next week in Zambia. Oh yeah – And, I got the privilege to care for over 100 students in my classroom too. Individually, each of these things sounds amazing… And they are. BUT, there is great responsibility with each of these tasks and an overwhelming understanding that God must come through.

There is a lady from my church who insisted on coming by before the school year began to pray over every desk in my classroom, every locker in my hallway, and every inch of the gymnasium. Between those three locations, lives changed this year. Tears were shed, words were shared and there was this silent awareness that God was doing big and awesome things in that small corridor of the school. I love this friend who insisted on praying. She forever interceded in the lives of dozens of students and co-workers.

This year has been emotional. Every day started while it was still dark and most days ended that way too. There were just so many things going on in that building from day to day. As I learned the stories, dreams, and fears of all these kids, God was simultaneously building and breaking my heart for the people he has made me most passionate about. To live a year with teenagers is to ebb and flow with the most polar of emotions. It takes faith.

As winter came to a close, a mentor friend of mine shared this verse… 2 Corinthians 12:15 – “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls.” This became the staple verse on my desk, the words I lived (and sometimes endured) by, and the words that I knew I wanted to shape my year by. God has given me passion and purpose for what I do and He has generously given me many mentors who have spent and been spent so that I might grow into the person God gifted me to be.

I say all that with the utmost humility. This year has caused me to reflect on all the mentors that God has put into my life from a young age and how each of these people has shaped me so much. I don’t know how I got so amazingly gifted with people all along the way who have cared far more for me than I ever cared for myself, but to these people, all I can say is thank you. If any life has been changed while it was in my classroom, then it was certainly a product of them and their generous spending on me.

Throughout this year, several mentors have prayed over this work and these kids. To them - You are why I have kids putting prayer requests on tests and asking if they can pray for me so I “don’t die in Korea.” Last week, I learned that my very first mentor – my current principal and former teacher – would be moving on to a new school next year. To her – You always gave me a chance and believed I could be great. You gave me the confidence that allowed me to know kids beyond just what I see. Then there are my friends, the girls who locked arms with me, cried with me, prayed with me, and even came to watch some volleyball games and a school play. To those girls – Thank you is not enough. You spent on me, so I could spend generously on these kids. You changed lives without even knowing it. Thank you for always being in it with me.

So, the ninth year of teaching comes to a close. It still seems nearly impossible to put into words all that has happened since August, so I’ll close with a quote from one of my most memorable students from this year.

“It was SO hard, but it was SO amazing.”

Reflecting On Korea...

Recently, I traveled with two others to South Korea to do sports ministry.  Leading up to the trip, there was a lot of posturing and threatening by North Korea to attack the South. Clearly, this didn’t happen, but I realize, in hindsight, that much of what I learned from this trip came as much from the preparations to go as from the trip itself.

As a teacher of teenagers, I deal in the world of hyperbole on a daily basis. Not one to make a big deal of anything, I found myself getting more and more restless leading into the trip as students and faculty alike came by my classroom telling me not to die, giving final wishes, and dropping off way too many “just in case I never see you again” notes. All of it together made me doubt whether or not I even wanted to go in the first place. It wasn’t until I heard the words “Go until God says stop” from a trusted mentor that my heart committed to going and the real preparation was on. Threats, stress, risk… Those were all the world’s clamoring, but none of the Lord’s direction, so I boarded the plane early one Friday morning and headed to South Korea to serve with a friend I had met only once four years before and another guy I had never met at all (In my mind that took a little faith too!).

It’s strange to go on mission to a place perceived to be more Christian than my own, but I walked in with high expectations of God. See, a little over a year earlier, God had called me very specifically to teach at the school I was at… So, when he beckoned me out temporarily, I expected for Him to have a reason why. I wasn’t really sure what God could or should show me there, so I just tried to be open to the experience and enjoy the amazing community of believers I was being blessed by immediately upon my arrival.

It was clear that leadership development would be part of the plan, but I knew little else walking in. What resulted was a week of investment – in time, in words, in prayer. There were the leaders from the International Sports Leadership Training school who we got to share life with, hearing how God had called them to Korea to be trained, and how he would soon send them out to live with an intentional mission in their own country. There were the believers from the Olympic Training Centers who spoke with desperation for their fellow athletes and training mates to know Christ and make him known through sport. Then there were others we met and broke bread with that had a sincere heart to care for their countrymen by making the gospel more accessible through sports outreach and ministries like the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. The time there went quickly, but it constantly reminded me of the verse by which I am teaching this school year… 2 Corinthians 12:15 which says, “I will most gladly spend and be spent for the saving of your souls.”

 

My take away from being in Asia is to be encouraged that there are people desperately hungry for others to know Christ. That this is to be my reality and desperation too. And to lead with excellence, selflessness, and a mindset of spending is to live out the mission that God has given each of us whether we travel halfway around the world or only ten minutes down the road. It may seem simple, but God expects our life. When we count the cost of sharing Him with fervency, sincerity, and vulnerability we know that to make Him truly know is more than just to speak correctly of his character, but to model it as well.

So, thinking back to the fact that I almost didn’t go reminds of the faith it took to get there in the first place… That this year has been all about taking risks big enough that failure is guaranteed – unless God steps in… And that risk and faith go hand in hand. We live in a place and a time where we constantly feed the craving for more information, but God has been faithful to show me that it is rarely more information that I need, simply more faith.

 

 

Why It Matters...

Sometimes, I feel like I am living real life version of a Lord of the Rings movie. It’s a strange analogy I know, but the one thing I took away from watching the entire trilogy in one day is this: that every single thing they did on their journey mattered. Mattering is an interesting concept. On the one hand, mattering gives you a sense of purpose, but on the other hand, mattering means that your actions and words have extreme importance.  I’m a teacher. God made me a teacher… Or at least that is how the memory plays out in my head. So, when I go to work every day, I go knowing that what I do matters. Sometimes, it’s great and mattering in the lives of young people is amazing and life changing for both sides. Yet, other days, mattering is exhausting. It’s a burden. And it is totally overwhelming.

You cannot teach well without covering every facet of your profession in prayer. Not doing so is the equivalent of pulling down upon you the very yoke that God has promised to lift. Even still, the job is just plain hard. The truth is that I love these kids so much. They all have stories. It’s like the Freedom Writers movie threw up its script right into our school. There are fights. There are drugs. There are kids with horrible home lives. The weird thing is that all of these kids – rich or poor – pretty much like coming to school. Because, unlike home, school is structure and school is the wonderful distraction from whatever they face under the roof of their house… Parents fighting, parents cheating, parents drinking, parents in jail, parents that never crossed the border with their children, parents who can’t work so the kids have to… And at the end of the day, they’re still parents… Parents who, despite their obvious struggles, send us the best they’ve got, hoping for the best in us. That makes us matter.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a burden, just straight up heart aching burden for these kids. The kind of burden that wakes me up from a dead sleep and prompts me to just begin praying. It’s simultaneously invigorating and exhausting because every prayer I say or don’t say matters… I once had a co-worker who taught with the outlook of never making her problems, the kids’ problems... Which is to say that none of what impacts us in our personal life should surface and hinder our effectiveness towards those students. But really, that’s just hard sometimes… The reality is that reality does bubble up and creep into nearly everything. Especially everything you have put your whole heart and soul into. I’ll say this though, in the outside world… the one beyond the brick walls of my school, there are a whole lot of people that walk around feeling sorry for themselves because of the story they’ve got. More than anything, this place has taught me that the pity party is a waste of time. Look around, I tell myself; nearly everyone here has something just as bad or worse.

This school is not a place where we feel bad about the life we have. This is the place where we look at our obstacle and thank God we’re in a place where we have the capability to get over it. I have doubt, I have fear… But God made me a teacher to matter. I’ve been racking my brain for the better part of this year because sometimes I feel so uncommon… Why do I care so much? Why can’t I stop thinking about these kids? Why am I out with friends on a Friday night but thinking about the conversations I’m going to have with my kids on Monday? Some might chalk this up to being a passionate teacher, but it’s more than that.

God has called us to be uncommon… To be different… That moment when we pause and look at our life and it looks like everyone else, that is the moment that should really make us anxious. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve read too much Francis Chan and David Platt lately, but I mean really, aren’t we supposed to be risking everything for the sake of Christ? Shouldn’t my kids, my co-workers know me by my love? It matters, right?

Everything about the world is a risk, but am I really willing to attempt something big enough that failure is guaranteed… Unless God steps in? And so it goes with my job right now… 12 weeks deep into 120 lives and everything matters. It matters because we’re the hope. It matters because loving differently matters. And it matters because what we choose to attempt or not attempt will ultimately be of eternal value for pretty much everyone that God has put us in relationship with. So then, forgive me for being overly invested in my true work, for not having my blackboard site updated a day earlier because I spent two hours after school talking to a student about why her mom and dad both cheat on each other and never say I love you to her, or for not wanting to do anything on a Friday night because by the end of these 12 hour work days I’m truly exhausted. To the Christian, there is never a time when one part of life doesn’t spill over into another… My faith is my work is my passion is my mission is my calling is my obedience is my gift of thankfulness for a life otherwise lost but for the grace of God.

I am grateful for those that push me in this mission. That live to make Christ known in all they do. I am thankful for the uncommon people that the Lord has put in my life that have prepared me for what lies ahead, that pour into and pray over this work of eternal consequence. They are race runners and they force a challenging pace. I’m grateful to be exhausted and aware that all this will fail unless God steps in.

 

The Longing...

I’d like to resolve to watch less TV. It is a pleasant and effortless distraction, but I don’t need a distraction when intentional focus is what I am missing. See, I have realized that, in Christ, I have freedom… Which has also strangely led me to the recognition that I have the freedom to be bored. That freedom sometimes feels like permission and permission can quickly become a desire and when life gets hectic, painful, sorrowful, then all of the sudden my freedom feels like and excuse for boredom.

So, I listlessly spend summer days escaping from the year that was and avoiding the year that will be. There are moments of hope that break the fog of ignoring, but no mountaintop is high enough to allow me to escape reality forever. In the lull of expected answers, half-hearted bible study, and time with friends where I ask lots of questions and give very few answers, I find myself detached from the anchor, slipping out of the harbor and unknowingly into the sea.

Sharing becomes a strange thing in the boredom because I am basically pulling from my experiential filing cabinet… Nothing new to share, too prideful to say so… So I regurgitate something old and everyone assumes that everything is… Well… Fine. The truth is that unlike blatant trials, boredom lulls us away with shallow questions or things that might be nice to pursue but never are. Boredom makes all things seems unnecessary and certainly like there is not any rush to get to them. God is easy to spot in blessing, easy to cry out to in pain… But not so in the mist… When senses are dull and revelation is dim and distant. Another mountaintop isn’t the answer and, clearly, a trial is off the table if we can help it. So, there is just this craving to know that God is there.

It reminds me of this Frederick Buechner thought expressed in an Alli Rogers song…

“Frederick rarely hears the voice of God. He says that silence is the answer most of all.

When the world has explanations for every miracle, how else would we have ears to hear Him call?

It’s not a steady rain, it’s more a longing or a pain. It’s in the aching that we know there is something more.”

And I guess right now, that’s just it. Because I long, I also know that there is something more. I long because I have hope. Both mountaintops and trials most certainly sit on the path ahead – the believer yearns for both though that seems like a contradiction – but in both the presence of God is made so real. It is not so much that we long to be pain free or overlooked for struggle… But to know that our peaks and valleys and all that falls in between is uniquely chosen for us by God. And that He is there… Present and active through it all…

First Thoughts...

It’s the end of another school year. The years seem to be racking up at a quicker pace than I’m ready to admit. Eight years in and I have had my fair share of awkward moments, surprising challenges, and generous rewards. Having come to a new school this year, I think there is a copious amount of reflecting to be done to be followed by an equally generous amount of journaling. So, in light of that, I thought I’d start my reflection process off with something a little lighter. Teaching is good because it is hard and it is hard because it is good. So, when there is a chance to bring some levity into it, I welcome it. See, levity allows me to scrape through the surface to where the real gems of the year are located, but it does it in such a way that I don’t hesitate to go a little deeper and look a little longer once time really allows.


That said, here are 10 interesting things I learned from my school year:

1. No matter how hot the classroom gets, keep the windows closed.

When this does not occur, some 18 year old male might throw his glasses into the courtyard “just because.” Not good.


2. Have your homeroom class help you put sandwiches together to feed the homeless.

Then, you get to hear kids who used to say “the homeless can feed themselves” come back four months later and say “When can we help with that again? I think I want to make them brownies or something.”

3. Don’t sit too still in a classroom.

This makes you a prime target for cockroaches. They are small and non-threatening, but it’s creepy when they crawl across your keyboard.

4. Share your strengths and weaknesses with your kids.

This way, you can eventually find out that one of your male students has secretly been keeping a list all year of all the things you said you weren’t good at. On the last day, he’ll give you this list titled “Miss Storm’s Bad Traits” and say, “I just thought you should know.”

If you’re lucky, he might even put a nice trait on there too.

5. Know that if you’re weird and kind it gives your students license to be their weird selves too.

Then you’ll have that day, when you look around the room and think “Wow, we’re all really weird… And strangely comfortable with that.”
As a side, if you’re weird and mean, it doesn’t seem to work out as well because then you’re just the crazy teacher that doesn’t like kids.

6. Definitely ask your kids how their day is going.

Even if during the first few months of doing so you continually get an agitated response of “I’m doing my work!”

I know you’re doing your work darling. I just wanted to know how your day is going.

By the end of the year, they’ll actually answer the question.

7. Anticipate “the day”.

Every year, “the day” happens. That special day with each of your classes when, for whatever reason, your class becomes truly yours, your kids become family, and you know that this set of kids was meant especially for you.

(Warning: this may or may not happen on the same day that you all realize you are weird and okay with it.)

8. Keep a spray bottle on your desk and label it “Tears From Students”.

There is no need to ever actually use this bottle… Just simply slide it to a place where the kids can see it when they’re thinking about doing something ridiculous.

9. Tell your students early on what kinds of baked goods you like.

Otherwise, you end up having your pants be tight for stuff you didn’t like all that much in the first place. :)

10. Always leave a little space for students to write and reflect at the end of a test.

That way you get the pleasure of reading things like this: