Sometimes you just have to pass someone

I double checked my atlas, adjusted my GPS; ready. The two-lane, open road was in front of me -California bound! 12 hours of just the road and me, or so I thought. About an hour into my drive I came to a halt as an "oversized" truck hauling a house puttered down the road. The truck took up most of both lanes which made it very difficult to see around him. This made it even more difficult to pass the guy on highway in the middle of nowhere. I slowed down and told myself that it was much wiser to be 'safe than sorry'.

Safe than sorry turned into an hour of 50 miles an hour which wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that my foot really likes to do 80. By this point, I had a few cars lined up behind me and I felt the pressure to pass. If only I could see around the wide-load. It wasn't until a car 4 back decided to pass us all that I decided to muster up the guts to pass as well. I pushed the pedal to the floor and finally zoomed around. Awe! It felt good to pass the wide-load. The open road and I were one again.

It wasn't until a little later that it came to me: sometimes you just have to find the courage to pass people. I thought about how I could still be behind the wide-load, driving s.l.o.w, stressing over how fast I could be driving, and wishing I could see the beauty in front of me. I could have been stuck! Instead, by finding the courage to pass the truck, I got to my destination quicker and my entire perspective of the drive changed. I was free! I saw the beauty. I was on an adventure, not tainted by anyone.

On the rest of my drive, I wondered about how often we do this in life. We get stuck behind people that prevent us from getting to our destination, they taint our view and because of this, the perspective of our journey is much different than it could be...

All we need to do is find the courage to pass them.

The Whatever Trend

 

Recently, I’ve been hearing a lot of “I don’t care."

I've also been hearing a lot of “whatever."



To me, both of these phrases communicate the same thing: “Pshhh! I’m too strong to let anything get to me.”

As I’ve heard these phrases more and more, I’ve started to wonder: How often do we really mean “I don’t care” or “whatever” and how often do we say it even when we don’t mean it? Part of me had this hunch and I wanted to see if I was on to something so I started doing some research. I asked random friends, coworkers and students that same question:

How often do you think you really mean “I don’t care” and how often do you say it when, really deep down, you don’t mean it?



Submitted by one of my students hours before this post was published.

Now I’m an English teacher, not a math teacher, so my statistics are far from perfect; however, I will say this, every time a person thought about the times he/she said “I don’t care” or “whatever” in the last week, often it was a circumstance where he/she REALLY did care!

You see, this was my hunch: Almost every time we say “I don’t care” or “whatever” we really don’t mean it otherwise we wouldn’t go to the efforts of verbalizing it. In other words, when we care enough to say “I don’t care” it’s usually a good indicator that we really do care! Then there are other times when we think we don’t care until it comes down to acting on our “I don’t care”.

Example: A husband and wife are deciding what to eat for dinner.

Husband: “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

Wife: “I don’t care.”

 

Husband: “Buffalo Wild Wings it is!”

Wife: “Really?! I don’t feel like there!”

Husband: “But I thought you said you don’t care!”

OR
 

Example: A friend tells you something insulting; something that strikes a chord with you as a person. You try and tell yourself that you don’t care. You tell yourself that that “friend” really doesn’t know you… but when you are honest with yourself, you know the friend does know you and what he/she said really does hurt. Yes, you really do care.

We tell ourselves all the time to not care, just be tough. Sticks and stones can break our bones but words can never hurt us! -à The ultimate “whatever” speech. But what if we care more than we want to admit?... or we care but just don’t know it?

As I have noticed this “whatever” trend gain momentum, I’ve noticed that we don’t know what we care about and what we don’t care about. We don’t know what or who we love (other than ourselves) and we don’t have a passion for anything.

We just don’t care… or do we?

I think I’m going to try something different for the next week. I’m going to take “I don’t care” and “whatever” out of my vocabulary. Instead, I’m going to work on saying “I DO care”…

I would love to hear your thoughts on the “whatever” trend…  Do you think my hunch is right or off base? Do you recognize some of the “I don’t care” in yourself?

I would love to hear!

Just a big junior higher

I read this blog post by Donald Miller the other day. The entire point of the post is that we will become like the people we spend the most time with.

"In five years, you’ll become a conglomerate of the people you spend the most time with. In fact, if I wanted to know who you were going to be five years from now, I’d not ask what you do, what education you have, what you eat or whether you exercise, though all those things have an impact. Instead, I’d want to spend a little time with the folks you spend time with. That alone would tell me who you were going to become." -Donald Miller

When I finished reading this post, I sat there and thought about it for a minute; who do I spend the most amount of my time with? The first thought that popped into my head was junior high and high school kids... Oh man, I'm doomed. Now I know Donald wasn't necessarily talking about the people we work with. I think he is referring more to our close friends, but still. I spend the majority of my time with teenagers and cheerleaders. I must admit, I love my job, but the thought that I will become like the people I spend my time with kind of frightened me. I don't want to just be a big junior higher for the rest of my life!

I spent a few more days letting Donald's blog post percolate in my mind. No need to have a complete nervous break down, I scolded myself. Maybe there were some benefits to being a big junior higher. Within a few days, I began to see the light and now I wonder if we should all want to be big junior highers. Then there is part of me that wonders if we really are just big junior highers who try to pretend like we know what we are doing in this adult world.

So as I look at it, here are a few things we can learn from junior highers:

1) They aren't too cool to do fun, dorky things. They can joke about some of the dumbest things and they can even get excited about silly activities like writing verb raps. They put their hats on sideways, bust out their coolest dance moves and verb lyrics, and for just a few moments they let the little kid shine bright without any hesitations.

2) They cry. (They aren't hard yet.) Maybe it's just that I'm a really scary teacher, but I have had some really great, transparent conversations with junior high kids. In the midst of those conversations, they cry and they aren't afraid to let it flow. I mean, they aren't afraid to cry for ANY reason; they let their emotions flow (yes, you remember the days) and flow and flow. While I'm sure we are thankful to be over the hormonal craziness of junior high, I think there is some beauty in letting ourselves cry in front of others. It breaks down the walls and it invites pure friendship. It breaks our adult jaded-hardness. How beautiful it is to see tears.

3) They say it how it is. "Mrs. Sharpmack, what were you thinking?... Sharpmack, I think that is dumb. .... You are acting weird.... You are such a dork...Well, that was dumb!" I hear pure truth (not to say I don't hear a few lies too) and it is direct. You never have to guess what junior highers are thinking. Now I know, a little tact goes a long way and that is something I teach every day... but I wonder if adults spoke a little more pure truth and we didn't always play this "politically correct" thing, maybe we wouldn't feel like we were always on such a slippery slope. We wouldn't guess what our boss or coworker really thought of us.

4) Life hasn't become too complicated yet. They still view life in very basic concepts of right and wrong. They aren't jaded and they haven't allowed the gray to cloud their views of life, themselves, and each other. They may feel insecure in how they act or what they look like. They may be in this awkward time of "figuring themselves out", but at their core they still can sift life through a right and wrong, black and white strainer. They are still innocent, overall.

I guess at the end of the day, I can't deny it, I am thankful that I have grown up and moved on from the dreaded awkward junior high years. Yet, if part of me is stuck being a big junior higher because those are the people I spend the most time with, I think I'm ok with it. There are certainly some benefits of seeing life from a junior higher's perspective.

Oh but wait, I must ask, who will you be like in 5 years?

Let Go: of the Hollywood movie

 

I must admit that sometimes my life plays out like a movie in my head. I'm weird, but I think about this question: if I were to cast someone as me in a movie who would I want to play my best me? Do you ever think about that? Ok, so it might just be a weird thing I do. Even still, I imagine my Hollywood drama playing out perfectly -just like it always does on the big screen.

 

Imagine the typical movie: The characters are gorgeous and life seems perfect. Then something drastic happens which changes the entire tone of the movie and the characters have to face some sort of character transformation. Finally, just before the movie ends there is this dramatic revelation and a happy resolve hits the main character. You know, the "happy it all worked out" kind of Hollywood movie.

Well, I've been catching myself thinking that my life will play out just like that movie. Then I remember that my life is not a movie and a hopeless-romantic screenplay writer is not writing my story.

God is.
And he is much more creative than any screenplay writer and his best stories are always far from perfect.

There is no perfect formula; a +b = c and then everything will be perfect. Life is up and down. Some days are beautiful and other days just suck. God blesses with the beautiful, but one thing I often forget is that sometimes he allows for the ugly and messy to come in and shake us up. Far from the perfect resolve in a movie.

I'm reminded that in either season of life (beautiful or messy), I must trust that the author of my life is in complete control and the imperfect stories are always the most relatable and life changing.

My life may never look as beautiful and put together as a Hollywood movie, but I have to trust that the script written for my life is much more adventurous, life changing, and challenging than any Hollywood movie could ever be.

Sisterhood

I had the opportunity to guest write on my sister's blog. She asked me to write about sisterhood. Here's a section of my writing.

~ ~ ~

Mandy asked me to write a “guest post” for her blog on sisterhood and what it means to me. To be honest, when she first asked me to write this post, I wasn’t really sure what to say. I mean, yes sisterhood is a wonderful gift but what is there to write about?

So after months of procrastination, I finally forced myself to sit down and reflect. Here are my thoughts on what sisterhood means to me.

 

1. My sister’s friendship is constant.

No matter how much of the raw me my sister sees…

No matter the opinions we agree with or disagree with…

No matter the thousands of miles apart or the different seasons of life we are in…

No matter the hurt feelings, the unspoken competition, the awkward family dinners…

No matter what…

We are sisters. We are friends. We are constant.

2. We testify to the growth and change in each other from childhood to adulthood. 

My sister and I were very different growing up. She was rather boy(ish) –playing soccer, getting in the mud, running around with my brother. As she ran around in her cut off T-shirts, boy shorts, and way too short of a haircut, I wanted so badly to pierce her ears. I thought that would at least distinguish her as a girl. She was fearless and she didn’t care about what others thought of her. Me, on the other hand, I was bratty, spoiled, bossy, and a know-it-all. I was the older sister that always got her way and that had to be the best at everything. I cared way too much of what others thought of me. Needless to say, Mandy and I were as opposite as we could get and that clashed between us for years. We were not friends. We could barely carry out a normal conversation. It wasn’t until Mandy moved away to college that we met each other again. We began to get to know the new us. We set aside of what we knew about the old sister and we began a process of meeting the new sister. Today we both can look back at who we were 20 years ago and we can share the ways in which we’ve seen each other grow and change and become new people. It will be interesting in another 20 years to see how we have changed again, but just as sisters do, we will be there (God willing) to say, “Hey, remember when you used to be like that?! Gosh how you have changed.”

Please check out her blog to see the full piece.

 

 

Story Time with Grandpa

A few months ago I blogged about my trip up north where I learned so much about my father's side of the family. It was through that experience that I realized how much of me is made up of so many different people. It was reassuring in a way, like even in the midst of navigating through this world, some of it was prepared for me. As if, perhaps, I didn't have as much choice in who I am as I thought I did.

About a month ago I traveled north again, except this time it was to visit my mom's side of the family. Both of my mom's parents are still alive. They are in their late 80's and have story after story that testifies to the fact that they have truly lived!

One afternoon while we were visiting the ladies went to the store, but frankly I hate grocery shopping, so I stayed behind with grandpa. We sat out on the back patio and story time commenced. I asked him what he liked to think about when he sat out on the patio. He chuckled and said, "Mostly the good ole days; the days of being a cowboy and riding the land." He shared about his time of riding free in the wild west, about when he beat the world's best bull rider 3 years in a row, and about his time serving in the navy right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. His stories flowed off of his tongue, one after another as if it had just happened yesterday. The tears came too as if he was reliving each memory right in front of me and all I could do was sit and try to take it all in as quickly as he was reliving it.

It came to the end of our conversation and I asked him one last question, "Grandpa, do you regret anything?" Without hesitation but with tears flowing, he simply said, "Not a one thing. I've worked hard, loved deeply, and lived fully." Later that night as I thought about our conversation, I realized why he didn't regret anything. In all of his stories, good or bad, these few things were evident:

1) He was sure of who God made him to be.

2) He loved working hard.

3) He was not afraid to let others see him; to truly know him.

4) He loved knowing others.

5) He embraced love.

6) He wasn't afraid.

7) He truly LIVED!

 

I went out on the patio the next morning and sat in his chair and I imagined myself in my late 80's. As it is with anyone, I sat there hoping and praying, making it a goal in my heart that I would live these next 50 years like my grandpa. As I thought about it, 50 years doesn't sound like a lot anymore. It will come and go so quickly, just as my grandpa felt like his stories were from yesterday.  And the urgency began to swell within me.

 

It's time to live!

Never let go

Writing is a therapeutic process. When I sit down to write, part of me knows the direction in which the keyboard will be played, but it's always about half way through the writing that it takes on a mind of its own. Before I know it, the writing evolves and morphs into something I didn't know was deep inside me.

That is what I love about writing.
And that is what scares me the most about writing, especially when it's read by others.

I suppose that is why I haven't written for over a month (sorry to those few friends that are loyal readers). There are so many things that have been on my mind, all of which have been a jumbled mess. Perhaps I've been nervous to see how it all comes out and how my writing evolves into something I didn't expect.

So here goes the evolving writing:

I know that my last few posts talked about the theme of "letting go"... letting go of the material items, memories, relationships, lies, and all the things that weigh you down. While that has been a very influential theme of my life over the last few months and one that I will continue to explore and write about, there is one contrasting theme that has been loud in my life over the last few weeks.

Don't ever let go of what you know to be true

because it's your constant.

 

It is in the hardest of times when what you know to be true carries you through. It gives you strength when you feel weak. It gives you hope in the hopeless. It reminds you that there is more to life than you. It keeps you grounded and pushes you forward when all you want to do is stop. It is life when you feel like yours has stopped. It's the whisper that says, "I made you for more than this. Keep going. Keep living." It is your constant. Whatever you know to be true becomes that baseline to life when everything around you seems to shatter into a million pieces. We all need a baseline; something that grounds us and keeps us sane. It's that truth deep within us that reminds us of who we are and who we are meant to be- even in the hardest of times.

 

Never let go of that truth!

 

My truth has been with me since I was a little girl sitting in the back pew of church. There have been times where I have doubted, where I have wanted to let it go but it wasn't so simple. It was my rock. For more than 20 years this truth has walked with me. It has been my constant when I was a stubborn little girl, an emotional teenager making dumb decisions, a young woman walking into adulthood, and it will continue to stay with me and be my rock. So what is my truth? What is the truth that reminds me of who I am; my baseline for life no matter how good or bad life gets?

 

It is as simple as this:

I am loved deeper than I could ever understand by a God that is bigger than the universe.

My crappy, carnal sins are paid for -Not by my own effort.

Grace and mercy is ever flowing and I'm given a brand new chance each new day.

 

Today I am most thankful for that ever constant truth in my life.

It's my constant and I'm never letting it go.

 



Let Go: Fighting the Monster

I'm a little late on this update but it doesn't mean that I haven't spent all week wrestling with a giant monster. Unless you are the OCD- throw everything away before it hits your desk- kind of personality, you may be able to relate with the monster that I battled all week long.

*Insert creepy music here.* The monster otherwise known as my desk. I don't know how it happens, but within a matter of days my desk can get piled so high with stacks of papers! Some papers sit tall on the top of the desk while others sneak their way into the black holes in my desk drawers. No matter my efforts, it seems that my desk always becomes the magnet of all things paper. It's a never ending battle for a teacher, especially an English teacher, and a battle that I lose. So this week was my week to wrestle and dominate the monster....



 

After many paper cuts and hours of sorting and shredding, I can confidently say that I conquered and defeated the monster! I let go of pounds of paper and I feel lighter because of it. Monday when I walk into my class and prepare for first period, I have a feeling that I will have a smile on my face because I will be able to focus on the things that matter rather than be consumed with fighting the monster!

(This is where my "after picture" should go; however, when I finally finished, I was so tired that I turned out the lights and went home. The last thing on my mind was taking another picture. Sorry.)

I know it's a simple post with not much depth to it; perhaps it's disappointing or anticlimactic, but I am realizing that some of the smallest burdens become the biggest barriers to living WELL. 

Let Go: of what you hope for

Waiting. For kids, it is nearly impossible. For adults, sometimes it seems like it's all we do.

Granted, there is this anticipation in waiting like when a little kid has to wait weeks on end before opening up a Christmas gift. The waiting, starring, and shaking of the box makes the gift that much bigger and better once it is finally opened. Then there are other times when waiting keeps you up at night and turns your stomach into knots. It's not the kind of waiting that sits in the pit of your stomach like eager butterflies anxious to flutter away. Instead it's the "I'm going to be sick" kind of waiting. You think, God, I hope you've got this because I'm not sure what I'm going to do if you don't. Yet even still, deep down in the deepest part of you, you know he does have it and so you keep waiting... for something, anything.

I think that is what I've watched my dad go through in the last few months. Waiting. At times I'm sure he was the anxious little kid waiting to unwrap his Christmas gift and then there were other times when the "I'm going to be sick" feelings started to creep in. To be honest, I watched nervously wondering when he would crack but instead he just kept waiting.

"Wait, it's August and you need a job by the end of the month?! What are you going to do? What's your plan B, dad?" I asked.

He always replied, "I have no plan B." Even in the midst of his uncertainty, he was certain that God had it figured out.

And of course, God did.

Like he always does when you trust Him and let go.

The present might not look the way we expected it to. Sometimes the present is smaller, more fragile. Other times we look at it and we think, how am I ever going to use this? I don't need this! But even after we unwrap it, whether it is exactly what we hoped for or not, we know in the pit of our stomach that somehow it will be exactly what we will need and we will know when to use it. We just have to figure out how to let go of what we hoped for and embrace what we have been given.

My dad let go of what he thought his life was supposed to look like; how he imagined career choices would turn out. He let God do his thing and of course, right on time God gave my dad a job that is a perfect fit for him. He just had to wait.... and let go...

Love you, Dad. I'm excited to see how God will use you in this next adventure!
 

When we let go of what we hoped for and we take hold of what we have been given... the gift is greater than we could of ever dreamed.

Goal:

What is one thing in your life that you expected or hoped would be different?

(Motherhood, adult friendship, finances, career choices, marriage, God, feeling alone, etc.)

 

Let go of what you hoped for...

 

And challenge yourself to love what you are given.

and if you are waiting...

remember, the waiting makes the gift that much better. 



Let Go ------> A new series

 

I had a list of all these things I wanted to do this summer. Mostly, it was a list of things I wanted to let go of: closets stuffed full of clothes I don't wear, desks full of papers I don't read, emails that cause morning chaos, books sitting in "read" and "unread" stacks. All of this stuff takes up space in my life and most of it just weighs me down. I look around my home and most of what I own I never use. Part of me longs to let it all go and live with just enough to fill a backpack.

But it's not just stuff that fills up space in my life. There are also life choices, lies that we accept as truth, memories, conversations, and circumstances that sit- and all of this fills up life. Everything in our lives takes up space and we choose to let it, but what if we chose differently? What if we chose to let go of everything that filled up space in our home and heart that was ugly, heavy, or not useful? What would life look like?

If I'm honest, my goal this summer was to lighten the load; free up the space in my home and heart.... I had great intentions, but I failed. I keep holding onto the junk. Now, I look at the calendar and realize that this summer is officially gone...

...but my chance to let go is never gone. We all have things we need to let go of. The tighter we hold onto them, the tighter we hold onto this world and we all know this world will not satisfy. So I've decided that maybe if I go on record, that perhaps my drive to let go will move from wishful thinking to actual DOING. So here it is.

Goal:

1. Let go of one thing a week until Christmas.

2. Blog about it. Keep record of it. Evaluate whether letting go makes a distinct difference in my life.

3. Encourage others to lighten their load too.

 

What would life look like if we got rid of all of the ugly in our home and hearts?

 

Ready, set,

 

LET GO!

Stupid Conversations

Tonight one of my cheer girls took me out for a belated birthday celebration. Mmmmm, Cheesecake Factory. Delicious! We gorged ourselves on warm bread, lemonade, and fried chicken as we chatted about boys, school, and what life would be like when she "grew up". Oh the days when you had everything in front of you and not very much behind you.

Eventually cheesecake time came around and we decided to split the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. It's my absolute favorite, especially because it has the Oreo crust that is seriously to die for. After a few bites I mumbled, "ohhhh this cheesecake is so rich." She replied in her valley girl voice, "Yeah, you really can't get a cheesecake that isn't rich....I mean, like totally, cheesecake is just....rich!" I looked at her and paused for a moment and then busted out laughing. "Wow, deep. Real deep thoughts there," I said. We both couldn't help but giggle over our very shallow conversation about cheesecake.

You know, it's funny because the rest of the night we kept quoting our "deep thoughts" and laughing at how silly and yet, funny our conversation was about cheesecake. I can't help but think that we will probably laugh about that conversation quite a few more times this next year and perhaps many years from now. I also can't help but think back to the many other silly, shallow, stupid conversations I have had with good friends. I'm not sure why, maybe because it's when we are most real, but stupid conversations seem to bond people together and make for unforgettable friendships. Think about it. When was the last time you had a really good, stupid conversation? One may be due!...like totally.

LIVE the now

Recently death has been creeping in the shadows; friends battling cancer, a coworker losing their child, even though it seemed like he had his whole life ahead of him. These stories happen all over the world every day. I feel heavy, but perhaps the reminder of death is what gives us hope to LIVE the now.

I am reminded on this Monday morning:

Cherish the life you have been given

Say "I love you" always -don't hesitate!

give strong hugs

don't waste your gifts

don't waste your day

take it all in -don't take it for granted-

because Heaven is coming! 

Beautifuls

I had a few precious moments this morning. Giggles, gaga noises, and rolling rrrrrs.

2,000 miles will not keep me from getting to know and see my cute little nephew. Smiles and giggles. Be still my beating heart. It will not keep me from good conversations with my sister. It will not keep me from my family. FaceTime is a beautiful invention.

The day isn't over, but I'm pretty sure that my FaceTime date with my nephew is my beautiful of the day. I wonder what yours will be.....

Connect

Have you ever found a hobby that you really enjoyed, and so for a while you go all in and you enjoy it simply because you lose yourself (or perhaps find yourself) in the hobby? Then there comes a time where you realize that other people enjoy the same hobby... and you start to realize other people are better at it than you. Comparison. Eventually, the comparison eats you up and sadly, you end up not enjoying what you loved in the first place because you are more concerned with being good at it rather than just finding yourself, or losing yourself in it.

That is the place I have come to with this blog. So many times in the last few weeks I have thought that I just want to quit. I want to stop writing.... because, of course, in my mind I want to be a brilliant writer like Donald Miller, Ann Voskamp, or Brennan Manning... and then I read back through my writing ...and the disappointment sets in because I realize I'm not a brilliant writer, I'm just Sheila. Kind of like those American Idol contestants who think they sound like Mariah Carey and then they see the replay and they hear themselves for the first time and they think, oh.. yikes.

I was sharing this frustration with my sister, who is also a blogger, and a few friends. Of course they were good to encourage me and to remind me that we are our biggest critique, but they also asked me some hard questions: why do you love to write? Why do you feel like you need to be good at writing in order to love it? Why can't you love it, even if it is just for yourself?

And so I sit here, contemplating those questions... and I don't think I have answers to all of them yet, but what I do know this:

I write because words and ideas connect people -they link us together -they bridge the gap. They challenge, inspire, and make us feel known... Life has it's ups and downs. There are times to laugh and love and other times to hurt and cry -words connect us to each other and through each other's experiences. So I write about the good and the bad, the dorky and corky, the love and the hate because I love to connect. We all live very different lives, but we feel the same pulse of life
{together}. We long to say, you feel that way too, you are going through that too, I thought I was alone. and we can't say that unless we use words to get us to that scary, vulnerable, leaning into the air kind of connection.

So I guess that is why I'm here, I throw comparison aside and I focus in on the one thing that keeps me writing

connection.

Stairway to Heaven

I had this dream a while ago and it went something like this.

~ ~ ~
There was this tall white staircase that wrapped around and around, reaching high into the clouds. Those who climbed to the top of the staircase were as close as they could get to God. In fact, it was the only way that you could be close to God while on Earth. So everyday people of all ages ran up and down, trying to get as close as they could to God.

One day I chose to climb the staircase, except the rules were different for me. I could only climb the stairs on my knees; one step at a time. The task seemed difficult and unfair, but I wanted to be close to God. I bent down and began the long journey up the stairs -on my knees. I felt weird and out of place as everyone else climbed the stairs so easily, quickly achieving the top of the staircase and their own closeness with God. Why wasn't it that easy for me?

With knees aching, I pushed forward even though people rushed by. With every step I climbed, it seemed like twenty more were added to the top of the staircase. Frustration bubbled and tears swelled. Why were the rules different for me and why couldn't I just join everyone else running up and down the stairs?

"You'll never get there!" a man said as he ran by in his gold running shoes. Shame and embarrassment rushed over my face and into my heart. He was right, it felt impossible.

Knees aching and the staircase still winding, I decided to stand up. I waited for the next group of people and as they passed down the stairs, I fell into line. I ran. Down. There was a moment where I slowed down and looked back up the stairs. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wished I could have gotten closer to God, but the staircase was tall and the journey seemed too hard. And so instead of continuing my journey to get closer to God, I ran down the stairs and God got further and further away...
~ ~ ~

I jolted awake. Wide eyed and sweaty, I laid in my damp sheets feeling the same sadness that I did in my dream. The same sorrow that I felt when I ran down the stair overwhelmed me. No one likes to feel far from God. No one likes to feel not good enough; like a quitter or a loser... and then I remembered the one thing that was missing from my dream, the one truth that changes everything.

We are never too far away.

As we run down the stairs, God sends Jesus running down the stairs too

 and he chases hard after us

because no one is ever too far from God.

Dream

Have you ever asked the question:
What inspires me?
Not just what inspires you on the surface- like cars, money, and pretty clothes- but truly and deeply...

What inspires me at the core of who I am?

And when you are inspired, what is it that you want to do or be? What whisper tugs at you, pulls you in and pushes you forward?

Then there is the fear in the pit of your stomach that squelches your dream deep inside you -almost to the point that you can't recognize it- and you stop dreaming.

That's me. I get inspired when I have great conversations with people and then my dreams start to flow. Before I know it, I'm dreaming about this all girl's school that I want to build and I imagine the good and the life transformation that could happen in my life and the girl's lives. Then suddenly the fear overtakes me... and the dream is gone.

I wonder why I let the fear stop me...

because the dream is always there...

just waiting for me...

I imagine what this world would look like if we all did exactly what we dreamed of doing...

30

July 4, 1983 -That's my birthday. It's kind of a big one this year; moving from my 20s to 30s -like moving from barely an adult to a "legit" adult. So legit that my student said the other day, "well just think of it this way, I'm half your age!"

A big birthday comes and I can't help but reflect...

There is a part of me that feels like I haven't accomplished as much as I thought I would. I don't own a home. I don't have kids. I haven't gone back to school for a master's degree. And so I think, gosh I have a lot to do in my 30s.

Then there is this voice in the back of my head that reminds me of all the people I have met along the way and all the places I have gone. The voice reminds me that life is simply a big story that God weaves together; friendships, circumstances, life lessons, hardships, blessings, careers, and amazing experiences - all of this is brought together to mold us into who we will be and to draw us closer to Him. It's not about when we get from one chapter to the next, but rather, how we get from one chapter to the next and who helps us get there.

So as my birthday comes and goes, I will think about all of you friends and family who have been a part of my life, perhaps for just a season or for multiple. You have taught and shown me who I am. Also, whether you know it or not, you have helped me to learn more about God.

In essence, you have made and are still making my life.

I may not have accomplished as much as I would have wished, but my life is full and colored because of incredible friends and family.

Thankful for you,
S

I am more than me... discovering my past

 My great grandma and grandpa's graves.

 

 My great, great, great grandpa's grave.

(My cousin and uncle also in the picture)

 



 Grandma and grandpa's grave.



 The view from the cemetery.

 

 

I took a trip up to northern Idaho this weekend. The Blewett side of my family was having a big family reunion and my dad asked if I would go represent our family. It's been 25 years since I have been up to this part of the country. I didn't grow up seeing my grandparents or my cousins so needless to say, I never really knew much about the Blewetts.

I arrived Friday night just in time for dinner with the clan. My grandpa Pierce Blewett was one of 14 brothers and sisters, so the number of cousins gathered together for dinner seemed countless. As I sat down at the table with my uncle and other cousins that I had never met before, one older man leaned over and said, "You look a lot like your dad... but I also see so much of your grandpa in you... you remind me of Pierce." I looked the old man straight in the face and smiled as I held back the tears and said, "Thank you. I would love to learn as much as I can about my grandpa." I never really knew my grandpa. He died shortly after I was born, but in that moment I realized that I am made up of so much more than myself. The old man continued on, "Well, Pierce was really good with youth. He had a way of talking to youth... growing up I looked up to him a lot." I smiled again and thought, perhaps I have more of Pierce in me than I ever could have known.

The rest of the weekend I heard plenty of stories about how the Blewetts settled into the Lewiston/Culdesac area. I got to visit the gravesites of my grandparents, great grandparents, and great, great, great grandfather and I got to see the land that they called home. Beautiful country!

As I drove home, I reflected back on the quick 24 hours and I think the thing that I was most reminded of on this trip is that I am made up of so much more than myself. I am a little bit of each of my family...

 

I am

a teacher,

good with youth,

a believer in Jesus,

stubborn,

light hearted,

adventurous,

and a hard worker

because it is in my blood;

passed down from generation to generation.

I am not just Sheila.

I am a little Pat, Jana, Dick, Janette, Pierce, Grace, John, Lilly May and it continues on...

I am not just me and the older I get, the more I appreciate that.

 

In the last few weeks I have learned so much about my family (the good and bad) and have been blessed to have some quality time with family... so the question that lingers in my mind and heart is this.... what does family mean to you?

A Menacing Dog

Running.

I hate it.

Yet, for some reason I got this crazy idea to go for a jog.
In South Carolina.
In the heat and humidity.

You know those times where you feel restless and you know you need to do something or your mind might go a little crazy? Like you just need to get up off the couch or get out of the house and just do or be but you aren't quite sure what to do or who to be. It was that feeling that lead me to go for a run. (Did I mention in the heat and humidity?)

I laced up my tennis shoes, plugged my ears with Taylor Swift and hit the road running. To be honest, the first 15 minutes or so was not so bad. I found a tolerable stride and the change of scenery felt energizing.  I felt so good that I even considered how I might have given jogging a bad rap. As I rounded the corner to come back up the street, I realized why jogging felt so nice. I was running down hill the entire time. Suddenly, as I struggled to run up the darn hill, running reverted back to this hate relationship in my mind. I was not a fan. I pushed forward for a few more minutes, but I quickly ran out of stamina and slowed to a walk. Just as I caught my breath, I looked over my shoulder to find a dog running towards me. This was not a nice, fluffy looking dog. Nope, it was a mean, "I'm going to tackle you" looking dog. And yes, there I was running again.

In the midst of running from this menacing dog, it came to mind that just a few seconds earlier I thought I could not run anymore and so I gave up. I simply stopped. Yet, there I was. Running. I was doing exactly what I thought I couldn't do. It's not like the running magically got easier. Running was still hard, but it wasn't unbearable. It took effort and focus, but I was capable.

I just needed a little reminder: keep going. You are stronger. Don't give up. You can do it.

And I could. And I did.

As I sat down on the front steps of the porch, feeling accomplished, I wondered how many times in my life I quit when I could of kept on going. And then I wondered how many times I kept on going when I should have quit. But isn't that life; all the "what ifs" and instead of getting a little crazy over them, I simply remember the moment where a menacing dog chased after me and I remember:

Keep going. You are stronger. Don't give up. You can do it.

Beautifuls

Hi Friends,

As you can see, it has been too long since I have written. I have been so good at sticking to my goals  with this blog until now....

A week ago I jumped on a plane and flew 2, 262 miles to visit my new nephew, Zeek, and my sister and brother-in-law.  REFRESHING!

Growing up, my sister and I never got along and I am sure my parents often wondered if we would ever be friends. Now we are all grown up and things are very different. She has a little boy who is a bubble of laughter and overall, she and I have things to talk about. We have been together a week now and a fight has not yet occurred, although I have probably just jinxed us. It is a beautiful thing when we grow and change and learn to appreciate the things and people we never did as kids.

In making this blog short, I will get to the point:

BEAUTIFUL:

Vacation

the ocean

baby Zeek

baby Zeek laughing

sister friendship

a brother-in-law that tells dumb jokes

a mom and dad that love unconditionally  

In short, those are the beautifuls in my life right now, what are the beautifuls in yours?

Bye for now,

S

Mr. Netflix

I have to confess that this weekend I have been addicted to Netflix. Yikes! Mr. Netflix is like this adultnapper who draws you in with enticing stories and before you know it the couch has swallowed you up, the TV has taken you prisoner and Mr. Netflix just laughs because an entire day has seemingly vanished.

And you think I'm kidding, but really, documentaries have kind of been my weekend. There is something so interesting to me learning about other people; how they live or what they live for. Now please don't judge but here is the list of titles I have watched in the last week or so: The Queen of Versailles, First Position, Happy, The One Percent, and Vegucated. All of these documentaries had a different focus; from training to be professional ballerinas to going vegan, from being the top one percent wealthiest Americans to losing everything in a matter of months. These stories kept me glued to Mr. Netflix.

Now, after detoxing from my imprisonment, I find myself thinking back to those documentaries and asking one question: What do I live for? You see, one of the common denominators in each of those documentaries is that each person lived for something or someone. The ballerina lived for ballet. The vegan thrived on identity. The top one percent breathed money - they all lived for something and it was always something that gratified their own desires. Yet sadly, what they lived for was always something that could be taken away. An injury could destroy a ballerina's career, and money- no matter how much- could quickly vanish, leaving hope and security a distant memory. I even watched the Bachelorette last night and the contestants hopes for love was all they held onto. They sought after love, living for love because somehow they thought that it would make them happy and yet, we know that all of those things we strive for and live for will only satisfy for a season... and then what?

So again, I ask myself, what do I live for?

and I am reminded of a C.S. Lewis quote

 

 

Weak or Strong

I knew this man who took pride in being strong. He would often say in a strong, unwavering voice, "Don't be weak." As if he was reminding himself just as much as he was demanding it of me.Yet, I always sensed that underneath it all, he was simply scared that if he let down his guard he would crumble. As if he knew that if he let himself have a moment of weakness, he would shatter into a million pieces and he would never be able to put himself back together. It was almost as if fear was what kept him strong.

I suppose in this man's eyes I would be considered weak. Really, if I'm honest, I am. I can't open a silly jar of jam. I can barely bench press the weight of the bar and I always cry when I see a Folgers commercial. You know, the commercial when the brother comes home for Christmas after serving overseas. He sneaks into the house and brews a pot of coffee to wake up the family. The sister runs down the stairs in anxious anticipation and it's right as they hug and the Folgers music begins to play that I always lose it. I am weak and I can't fight it. Anyway, it's ironic because as much as this man fought to be strong (and he did a great job of it), you could always see it in his eyes. You could see that he was tired of being strong and that, so badly, he wanted to let weakness overtake him for just a moment because being strong was exhausting.

The scary thing about weakness is that it makes us vulnerable. We think that weakness opens the door for more hurt and pain and yet, I wonder if it does just the opposite. Perhaps weakness teaches us about strength. Perhaps weakness is strength. Maybe as we fight to be strong, we are missing out on all that weakness has to offer. Perhaps it opens the door to beautiful friendship, allows for God to work in ways that we could never imagine, and offers us rest that strength will never be able to offer.

As I think about the beauty that weakness may offer, it makes me want to embrace it all the more.  Even if it means that the Folgers commercials will continue to get me every time.

Full

The urge to write came quickly and strong this morning. I suppose the last few days I have been ignoring my computer because it seems like so many of my thoughts are fragmented; pieces here and there, all of which are spurred on from different aspects (more like worries) of my life. Yet, I can't seem to bring any of them together into a complete thought. They keep running in circles like a dog chasing his tail.

Fragmented thoughts:
School is slowing down. I am thankful and all I want to do is celebrate with my students but the paper grading is never ending and it is stressful. I think there must be a lesson about procrastination here. I have a house that is a mess and honestly, I have absolutely no motivation to do anything about it. I think about the word disciplined and think there might be a lesson here too. I keep going to fun parties which, of course, I can't say no to the delectable sweets and it makes me think of the word diet. I have friends that are moving and friends that are out of touch with me and it make think of the word friendship and sad.

~

Yesterday I had the privilege of throwing a baby shower for a dear friend. It was a morning shower which meant that I was up early; running in a hundred different directions. Clipping flowers. Cooking. Decorating. So many little details, all of which I wanted to be perfect because I wanted to make sure my friend felt loved. The morning was lovely. In fact, I thought the shower turned out close to perfect. After the guests left, I sat down in the backyard and took it all in; the decorations, the celebration of a new life, and the fellowship. My heart felt full.

Yet, there was something that tugged at me saying, "Sheila, you feel joy because of something much more than just because of a party." Then it came to me, it was about serving. It was about waking up really early on a Saturday morning {denying my desire to sleep in}. Cooking {for others}, decorating {for others}, doing whatever I could to make sure that others had an enjoyable morning. -That is what truly brought me joy.

Serving is what we are made for.

It is how we find contentment in the midst of worry, stress, or in an unsatisfied moment of life.

Surprisingly, I did not think about my fragmented thoughts and worries at all during the shower. Not once did I think about grading papers, cleaning my messy house, or worrying about friends who are out of touch with me. Goodbye procrastination, discipline, diets, etc. Instead, my focus shifted from myself to others and it felt good. Isn't it so true that when we deny ourselves for the sake of others; when we focus on serving then our worries quickly wash away.

Serving makes an empty heart full and a worrisome heart content.

 It's truly the way to a full life.

Blessings

 

Blessings.

They flutter down from Heaven

but they don't always arrive when we pray or wish for them
they linger until we least expect them 

They rarely come in beautiful wrapping paper

or in a flashy card

They aren't worth a million dollars

they rarely cost a dime.

 

Blessings.

They come when we are weary

when we forgot we needed one

They are delivered in the most unexpected ways

by unexpected messengers

They are easily recognized

and warmly accepted -often with tears-

Because they give such comfort to the soul.

 

Today's blessing came just as I was giving up

I flopped down at my desk

ready to call it a day

Words of Encouragement right there at eye level

from a sweet sweet student

tears started to roll.

 

Blessings.

They will find you when you least expect it

They are fluttering down all around

just waiting....

to find you 

to comfort your soul.



Lessons

One of the things I have always loved about teaching is that there is a distinct start and finish to each year. Teachers have the unique opportunity to measure growth and to evaluate areas where lessons have been learned (or, in some cases, are still being learned). As my school year is quickly coming to an end, I want to be intentional to reflect, so here are the top 5 lessons I have learned in the 2012-2013 school year:

5. Communication is key to any relationship/friendship. I think this is a lesson I will always be learning. Ignoring, bottling, hiding, or trying to push aside important thoughts and feelings will only work for so long and then it spills out into a mess. Communicating is often times very difficult, but it is the most powerful way to draw someone close or push them away.

4. Don't make assumptions. It is easy as a teacher to make grand assumptions about the intentions, or lack thereof, of my students. A pencil flies through the air, an assignment doesn't get turned in, a sarcastic comment is made and it is easy to assume the worst. However, most of the time students aren't being spiteful, they are just being junior high kids. This reminds me that most adults are the same way. Most of the time we don't mean to offend or hurt others, we are just adults doing our best to make it. Assumptions about motives just make life even more painful.

3. Keep an open heart. Sometimes tough lessons must be learned; it's part of life. The test comes with how the lessons are received. Most of the time I am stuck in my ways. I will admit, it's hard to show me when I'm wrong and I'm a challenge to teach new things to. This year I have learned that the more my heart is open to others, the more colorful and joy-filled my life can be. Relationships grow, perspectives change, the light at the end of the tunnel shines a little brighter.

2. Dance when your day looks sad. Perhaps it's just me and my goofy love for dancing, but really, some of the hardest days I have had this year have turned into some of the most memorable simply by turning on a little music and busting a few moves. It's really hard to not have a smile on my face when I am busting an awesome dance move. I guess, perhaps, the bigger lesson within this lesson is to look for opportunities to laugh, especially in the midst of a hard or stressful day. Life is too short to not laugh.

1. Ask. Friends, acquaintances, co-workers, students. etc.. they all have something they want to talk about. When I tutor students, the first thing I ask them is, "What was the highlight and lowlight of your day?" It is amazing what my students will tell me; the hurt in their lives, the exciting moments, the normal and regular days, the random things on their mind. They are simply waiting for someone to ask- to genuinely show an interest in their lives- because isn't that what we all want? For someone to genuinely care about the highs and the lows in our lives.

Life is funny. As I look back at these lessons, I realize that they aren't quite earth-shattering or deeply profound. They are simple lessons. Yet, as I think about our lives, as we grow and change, I wonder if that is what growth and maturity is all about; having patience to learn and relearn the same simple lessons of life and to help one another learn them as well.

Summer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These were just a few moments from my weekend that reminded me that summer is quickly approaching. Isn't summer beautiful? It's a season where you can take in the beauty of God's intricate and flawless creation. Where it seems as if God yells, "see my beauty! Take it in, take it all in." And we either take it in one moment at a time or we let it pass by without a second glance.

...

So here's to taking in the moments.

Smell the flowers

watch the sunset

or listen to the trees blow in the breeze.

 

Summer is coming and it is beautiful.

 



It is Well with My Soul

Last night I heard this incredible biography about strength, hope, love, and perseverance. I must tell you it! Are you familiar with the song, It is Well with My Soul? If you aren't, it is a beautiful hymn that is sung in most churches. It is a hymn that has stood the test of time. Even if you know the song and have sung it a million times, most do not know the story that inspired the lyrics. Here it is:

There was a prominent lawyer named, Horatio G. Spafford. He lived in Chicago and was very influential. Spafford was married and had four daughters and one son. He desired what any husband and father would, to provide and take care of the family he loved. Shortly before 1871, in an attempt to provide, Spafford made the decision to invested heavily in real estate near the shores of Lake Michigan.

Sadly, in 1871 a massive fire hit Chicago. The fire destroyed much of the city including all of Spafford's investment properties. His livelihood was demolished. During this time, Spafford and his wife also experienced the loss of their son. Devastation hit. Hard.

In an effort to provide some relief for his family and him, Spafford scheduled a trip to Europe for his family. On the day that they were scheduled to depart on S.S. Ville du Havre, a last minute business deal kept Spafford behind. He decided to send his wife and four daughters ahead and he planned to meet up with them in Europe a few days later.

On November 22, the ship with his wife and daughters was struck by the Lockhearn, an English vessel, and sank in just few minutes. After the survivors were landed, Spafford's wife messaged him in America. Her message read, "Saved alone." Spafford took the next ship to Europe.

It was on Spafford's travels, taking the same route as his wife and daughters had just days before, that Spafford wrote the lyrics to the song, It is Well with My Soul.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

 

This is a story that seems like it {almost} gives Spafford permission to live in hurt, pain, and self loathing, yet, Spafford turns his story into a beautiful tribute, essentially saying: 

 

To the good and bad

lovely and ugly

It is all well with my soul

All of it is good

It shapes me, molds me, makes me reliant on God

I am forgiven, I am free

And glory is at the end of this long road

I keep my eyes up!

 

 What a beautiful reminder that it is all good and worth the journey.

 

 

Information taken from

http://suite101.com/article/hymn-it-is-well-with-my-soul-a32616



 

Laugh

They say to write about what you know and what I know is junior high life. I guess just like most mothers would say, every day is an adventure. Kids are random; predictable and not at the same time. Just yesterday I laughed about farts, and "hipster" lingo and at the fact that my student didn't know what to do when he found out that I actually have a first name. I never quite imagined myself being a junior high teacher, but then again, are any of us doing what we thought we would be doing?

I have been reading a book entitled One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The entire premise of the book is to acknowledge gratitude; to be thankful, to recognize the blessings in life and to speak them out loud, not out of a boastful spirit but out of pure joy. Yesterday as I was reading, I kept coming back to the silliness of junior high. The silly comments, dancing, insecurities, and random life of junior high kids. I feel thankful. Junior high kids make me laugh. They push me into my love for silly things.

They help me to let go of my inhibitions and I enjoy life more fully.

In full LAUGHTER, I am thankful.

So here are my two questions for you this morning: what are you thankful for and when was the last time you really LAUGHED and loved life like a silly junior high kid?

Hobbies

 

I've never really had a hobby before. There have always been things I have enjoyed, but I never would have called them "hobbies". I think there is something intimidating to me about the word "hobby". As if there is this great commitment, discipline, and dedication that comes along with it.

 

A few summers ago I started biking. I never in a million years thought that I would actually enjoy the sport -yes, I will call it a sport. Then I started to ride and it felt freeing. I slowly built up my courage to hit the road and eventually, I got brave enough to clip my feet into the pedals. Talk about scary! But I did it and it felt great.

 

Boise has a great biking community and we have some very intense riders! I would get passed up all the time by these dedicated riders and at first it was disheartening. I would have to remind myself that it's about commitment, discipline, and dedication. In order to be better, I needed to put my whole self into it.

 

One day I was riding and I started thinking about my new hobby. I thought about how much time, thought and energy I put into it and how I'm not even that great at it. It made me think about the word satisfied.

 

I thought about how so often we {as a Western culture} are not satisfied with life. We dabble at a lot of different things in our lives, yet we rarely go deep with one. We juggle meetings, parties, events, and often go home feeling exhausted. We have hundreds of facebook friends and we still feel like no one truly knows us. We have hundreds of options of products, food, clothing, entertainment and yet, we still cannot find the one we are looking for.

 

In a hobby you go deep with it. You study it. You are dedicated to it. You live it, breathe it, and know it well. I wonder if we were to minimized our focus in life, just like in our hobbies, if we would find greater satisfaction. Would we have fewer, but deeper connected relationships? Would we give up much to enjoy the depth of a few things? To live it, breathe it, and know it well.

 

To be satisfied in our deeper focus.