Sacred Ground

"I found it hallowed ground--sacred because the God was there." Kelli Wilcox, "Treasures" p. 17 AFM Magazine, September 2009

I stepped out of my car on Friday morning and looked at the elementary school in front of me. I prayed, "Lord, is this my next mission?" It seemed a strange place for me to go--teaching at a grade level that makes me nervous. "Father, is this where you want me to be?"

And yet, unlike all the other jobs that I've applied for this job application/interview/hiring process has gone so smoothly that I'm in shock. I applied for the job Thursday, they interviewed me Friday, and hired me Monday. There were even real kinks in the hiring process. My state credential had expired and I was positive that they could not possibly hire me with an expired credential. But it turns out I could get a one-year extension on my credential by filling out some paper work. Simple.

This (I confess) is not exactly where I wanted to end up. I had to go on a special prayer walk this morning to ask God for wisdom. The question that comes over me is: will I be able to handle it? Can I do a good job? MC was a refuge for someone like myself who struggled with classroom management skills.

And yet it seems that God is calling me to this place. I want to find the sacredness of my ordinary calling to teach eighth graders American history. I want to know how God can use me at this school. What plans does He have for me? I plan to prosper by His grace. I plan to teach 8th grade history in a way that glorifies Him.

Missing Thailand

My shoes are on. I have my bag over my shoulder. I'm waiting for some friends to pick me up to go for a hike. When they dropped me off, they gave me their phone number. Since they lived in Thailand, I gave it back to them in Thai. It's just easier to remember that way.

I've been having missing Thailand moments. Yesterday I stepped out of a university's HR office and walked past a large fountain that had a revolving globe in the middle. As I passed the globe, it turned to Thailand. I paused and my eyes watered up. (Silly sentimental me.)

Then today I looked around the congregation at my new local church and I really really missed the MC church. Almost everyone at our church is "older" or "younger" than me (but mostly they are older). I simply miss a younger congregation.

Today will be good though. I'm going on a hike with a nice family and then I'm going to a concert in the park put on by local churches. Life is not without its blessings and yet I miss my other home!

The Experiment

Last week I learned that I'm on the list of possible-canidates for the job opening in Florida (that's the good news); I also learned that they are postponing hiring until January (that's the bad news).

I had some great back up plans if I didn't get any work by September. I was going to substitute teach or go to Korea on a short-term contract. My back up plans have fallen through. They don't need substitute teachers in this area, and Korea doesn't need any workers until mid-October.

I can't say I haven't been disappointed by this turn of events; Laura knows I was a little discouraged when I talked to her on Sunday (yeah for Skype!). But I'm trying to see what adventure can come out of this closing of doors. This looking-for-work can be seen as a great experiment. Where will it lead?


Life's a dance you learn as you go/Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow/Don't worry about what you don't know/Life's dance you learn as you go Allen Shamblin/Steve Seskin

The Man Who Pushes in the Chairs

He looks normal when he's working on his crossword puzzle (his head bent down over the paper, his pencil poised to answer the questions), but he's not normal. You see he has a singular obsession--straightening the chairs in the library before he sits down. He doesn't straighten just one or two chairs, but all the empty chairs within his purview. Nor does he attend to his self-imposed duty without complaint. He mutters under his breath quite violently (unfortunately he mutters so unintelligibly I cannot report on his conversation). He rocks on his feet a little too while he works away at pushing in all the chairs that were left so dangerously far from their tables. It's a messy world--full of people who forget to push in their chairs, but we must be grateful for the man who pushes in the chairs at the library; he is a hero of order.

Soi Dogs

I've seen my share of awful looking street dogs in Thailand. When I lived in Bangkok, I had nicknames for the mutts; for example, there was "Mohawk"--the dog who only had a strip of hair running down his back. The post below, People Making a Difference, is a magazine article about a woman helping those dogs.

People making a difference: Sheridan Conisbee | csmonitor.com

People making a difference: Sheridan Conisbee | csmonitor.com

Posted using ShareThis

The Wind is Against Me, But I'm Stronger Than the Wind

Several years ago I had a jogging partner who could be delightfully dramatic about things. When we were running together and we had problems like horrible (breath-stealing) hills or annoying gusts of wind, she would say the following, "The hill is against me, but I am stronger than the hill. The wind is against me, but I'm stronger than the wind." It's really a much more poetic way of saying, "This jog sucks."

Well, I'm into poetry today. It's Monday and THIS IS THE WEEK. This is the week the last job of the ten I applied for, should be getting back with me. I'm anxious to check my email and anxious to get a phone call from them BUT it just so happens that my home is phone-line-less and DSL-less until Friday. What? Just when I need the communication lines to remain open, they are closed?

The phone lines are against me, but I'm stronger than the phone! The DSL is against me, but I'm stronger than DSL! (Well, truthfully, as you can see, I do have access to the Internet. It's located a ten minute drive from my house at the public library. Also, the school, that I applied for, has my mom's cell phone number.)

My real hope is that the job won't be against me. But if it is than I'm stronger than it!

Public Libraries

I'm in the public library. This is an interesting place for anthropology. That is to say the weirdest people come here. I've been sitting here listening to a man hold conversations across the room with anyone he feels like. He's asked a man (sitting quite a ways away) if the man was writing songs or letters. He asked another man, "What happened to your nose?" Really, if you're going to yell things across the room to strangers, could you start somewhere else?

When I got here this morning, I pulled up to a man who looked like he lived in his car. Later I walked by a very posh sports car. I guess we are all welcome here. The poor, the rich, the solidly middle class, and the painfully weird.

Big Miracles vs. Small Miracles

I am a huge fan of the dramatic. I like the goose-bump raising stories that show that God was definitely present (something along the lines of crossing the Red Sea). I've been telling God that I could sure appreciate a big miracle. I've even told Him that I think it would make Him look good if He did something really dramatic and obvious. Maybe He could give me a fantastic job in a great city with lots of fun people to get to know. Wouldn't it be clear to everyone what a good God He is if He did something great like that for me? (See, I'm not manipulative at all.) However, I'm also reminded that sometimes God is glorified not just in the big miracles but in the small ones too. Sometimes God is glorified not in a dramatic story (though I'm positive He's a fan of dramatic stories!) but in providing me the grace and strength to live faithfully for Him no matter what my circumstances are.

I think of Moses. It took Moses forty years of faithful (non-glamorous) sheep herding before he ever saw something as astounding as the Red Sea crossing. I know that sometimes God gives me Moses' years. He gives me times where He asks me to serve Him faithfully even when I'm not getting exactly what I wanted or what I prayed for. I haven't given up on my big miracle yet! But I've been praying that if this year is another Moses' year that God will give me the strength to live it gracefully and faithfully, and I pray that He will be honored in how I live His small miracle.

As an aside: Several years ago a friend of mine and I were both having an incredibly tough year. I told her, "I think this is our Moses' year." She said, "But he had 40 0f them!"

Just the Usual Strange

As a general rule strange things happen to me. I've been locked inside at least two bathrooms. I've been pooped on by numerous birds. I've been to sent to a hospital because of a freak skiing accident involving a drunk skier who mistook me for a sled.

Well, recently a very small strange thing happened to me. This involves my car and a slightly illegal action. It all started when two of my best friends from college and I had a little reunion dinner in San Jose. We ate at an Ethiopian restaurant and despite the tiny factor of having to eat with our hands we had a good time. After dinner we walked out of the restaurant and discovered that my car had been locked into the parking lot (the parking lot had a gate and a fence). My heart sunk when I saw my car thus ensconced. I told myself, "remain calm and talk to the owners." My friends and I walked back into the restaurant and we got the attention of our former waitress. I told her, "My car has been locked in the parking lot." She said, "Oh no!" What heart sinkage had already occurred went a little deeper. "Oh no!"? I was hoping along the lines of "it will be okay". But "oh no!" Her response made me wonder if my car would be locked in overnight. The owner (about that time came out) and my friends and I explained our problem. "My car is locked in the garage next door and I would like to get it out." He didn't seem particularly interested in this problem. I told him, "I had no idea that I parked in your neighbor's lot. Is there anyway we could call your neighbor to get the car out?" He said, "No." Me: "Hummm, okay." (This is a nice way to handle not knowing what to say or do next. Just say, 'Hummmmmm.") Then the owner went to the cash register and pulled out a wrench. He said, "Come with me." And "I'm not really supposed to do this." So we followed him out to the parking lot. Again he said, "We don't typically do this." He then taught me a fine lesson in how to break into a bolted gate. He unscrewed the latch that was connected to the dead bolt and then opened the gate. It felt so illegal and yet so right.