Hoping for a Ticket

Here's the deal: if I so much as look at a cop, they write me a ticket. I won't feign innocence. I've had my rebellious streak of pushing the speed limit and rolling through stop signs, but I'm a changed woman.

By about the age of eighteen, I realized vehicular submission was becoming an obedience issue, and I had an attitude adjustment. But I still got tickets.

The worst scenario was my sophomore year of college, driving back from Blake and Tina's for the first time. They lived in Missouri, about 2 1/2 hours from OWU, so I didn't anticipate issues. But when the sun went down, and the cops came out, tears inevitably followed. Have you ever been lost in the dark? It's so creepy and hopeless. Sunlight makes a huge difference when traversing unknown territory. And not one single cop took pity on me.

Long story short, within one mile, yep, just one, I was pulled over three times, and not one cop had compassion. Sobbing and feeling forsaken, my dear friends, Max and Ruth Ann Colaw, came to the rescue. I described my surroundings, and they came and picked me up. This is where I cue the Hallelujah Chorus!

Totally innocent of malicious speed or burnt out headlights, I had to pay the fees. And that was my last run-in with tickets.

But Josh? Guilty- yes. Punished- never.

On the way home from Weippe last night, after several games of Pitch with Don, Patty, an Tom, Josh and I were chatting away when red and blue lights appeared.

Josh looked down, realized he was going about 12 over, and promptly pulled off the road.

The police officer approached, and upon seeing the driver stated, "Oh, I didn't recognize your car. Could I get your license and registration?"

"Whose car is this?" To which I responded, "Mine."

"Oh, that's why I didn't know the driver," a.k.a., had I been alone...he would have pulled out the ticket book!

But for Josh? The guy didn't even run Josh's license. He stood at the window for about 60 seconds, told Josh he's driven that stretch of Weippe long enough to know the speed, then handed everything back and wished us a pleasant evening.

This is, and I'm not exaggerating, about the tenth time Josh has deserved a ticket, and gotten out of it. Speeding through a work zone on our honeymoon, while talking on the phone, cruising through Alva at top speed, rocketing across Montana in a Mercedes Benz, trucking through Burton, KS, IN A SPEED TRAP! But no tickets.

And each time that bearded husband of mine gets pulled over, I'm thinking, "Give him a ticket, give him a ticket!"

Yes, I know this will increase our insurance, and I know we'll have to pay a fine, but I want justice! It's so wrong, and Josh isn't even trying to get off Scott-free.

Maybe it's his honesty. Maybe his pleasantry. Maybe some gleam in his eye. But then again, maybe it's the beard.

I might have to start growing one...

Syllabi and Power Drinks

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who have been praying for me and sending me facebook notes, text messages, and flowers. Up until now, my life has been all-consumed with classroom 102, and each night I've collapsed into bed, nearly sleeping before my body was fully under covers.

My classes range from 25 students to 6 students, some sharp and eager, others cranky and stubborn.

And life is good.

But I'm exhausted.

To combat the tiredness in the process of going through syllabi and procedures, I drank the second power drink of my life this afternoon. It wasn't pretty.

Yesterday was my very first day with students. After my first class period, the para for one of my 10th graders caught me at the door and said, "You're one of the best teachers I've ever seen," and then walked away, leaving me mouth agape, bumbling into the next hour.

What a blessing to hear that others see the work, blood, and tears my life has been consumed with these last four years of college.

Professors out there- thank you for investing in me, for pouring your wisdom out with all your heart. Friends, thank you for listening to my crazy stories, for crying with me in the struggles and laughing with me in the joys. Family, thank you for loving me, on my very worst days, and inspiring in me the longing to serve, to minister, to love. You taught me how because you pointed me toward the greatest Teacher, and then He cultivated this heart of mine for the classroom.

These first two days have felt like an eternity. In the moments when I have longed to see Josh so badly I was tempted to shove lessons plans in my desk and save them for morning, those moments, those pinnacle moments, God has reminded me of how desperately I need Him. And then He pushes me forward.

Students are already creeping into my heart. Some because they just make me smile--good attitudes and eager spirits. Others because they're broken, and they're longing to be whole. The need here is great, economically and spiritually. And it's written all over my students' faces.

Then there are the teachers. I've always said the classroom is a mission field, but I never expected that field to include coworkers to extent it has here.

Yesterday, after my first long and exhausting day, a brand new hire stopped by my classroom, and we ended up talking for two hours about God's faithfulness in the midst of the most painful and angering situations. This woman is broken and bleeding. She and I are the same age, and she's in the middle of a divorce while trying to work full time and take care of her 6-month-old baby. And the church has burnt her. And she wants to walk away. But Someone keeps pulling her back.

Today, thinking I'd get home early, I stopped by another brand new teacher's room to see how she was adjusting. She's never taught before, never even student taught, and now she's been thrown without a life vest into the eye of a hurricane. And she's frustrated with our system at school...and some coworkers...and the isolation of this valley...and apathy of believers here. And so we talked for two hours, discussing theology and church and deception of the enemy.

I feel like I have nothing to give these women. I'm tired and I don't want to give up two hours every day of planning time, only to get home late, work even later, and start the process over again five hours down the pike.

I love being a teacher--I don't want to be anything else--but I'm tired. I catch myself thinking, "God, can't you use me later?"

And then I'm humbled, because I know He's asking to use me right now, in the midst of being tired, because it's not about me. It's about Him.

God is good. And God is faithful.

Even when I'm tired.

Should of Seen it Comin'

You know those toilet contraptions that shoot water up to clean your bum as a replacement to toilet paper? A bidet? That was almost a great idea. Kind of like the pocket thing you can microwave potatoes in.

But here's the thing: there is no replacement method to either of these outcomes. You can't spray yourself with a hose to replicate the bidet, and, as it turns out, you can't put a spud in a gloved hot pad and have a speedy meal.

I'd love to tell you I read this somewhere, or heard a friend warn me, but no.

I'm the victim of an act of stupidity.

And here's why.

Today was in-service at the high school. It's the day before the my first day of school as a paid teacher, and I spent 12 hours at Clearwater Valley High School. The day started at 7:30 this morning, and I drug my weary bones home at 7:45. Josh and Tom came to visit me for a bit, but for the bulk of the day, I was running from meeting to meeting, and printing syllabi in my spare time.

So isn't it fair that a baked potato sounded pretty good after a long day?

My predicament was the hankering for a baked potato, but not wanting to wait an hour for it to bake in the oven. We don't own one of those nifty little microwave thingy majiggers, so I thought, "HEY! A hot pad glove is basically the same idea!"

This is why I teach English and not biology...

Four minutes later, our little house was filled with smoke and a stink to make your toes curl.

I opened the microwave to one very retired oven mitt, embers and all. And get this: my potato was ruined!

On the up-swing, Kooskia did display one pretty remarkable sunset for our little valley. Next time, I'll make a bologna sandwhich with my wonderful husband and watch that sunset, and leave the potatoes for the experts.

Family Vacation

Picture this: Rapid City, South Dakota. Family vacation. Eight adults, one infant, one child. Two campers, one tent. Two trucks, one car, and 15,000 motorcycles.

Yep- we just had our Lesslie family vacation in Rapid City during Sturgis Bike Rally, and it was a riot.

If we could do it all over again, I would do everything the exact same. Originally we had planned on a cabin, but long story short, dates got a little confused, and three weeks before vacation Josh scrambled for an alternative, which his wonderful family helped with. I loved the campers, tent, Cedar Canyon Wesleyan Camp, Mt. Rushmore, Bear Country, Badlands, putt-putt golf, s'mores, Martin pooping in Grandma's shoe...the only thing I would do differently would be the week we chose to vacation.

All things considered, though, it was a marvelous week. Despite the never-ending string of scantily clad bikers, it was quite ideal, actually. The weather was beautiful, the food was delicious, and the company was grand.

It was so much fun to watch my parents as Granny and Grandpa all week with Martin.
They have fallen in love with that little boy, and I think Aunt Ashley and Uncle Josh have, too.




Josh and I let my parents have the bigger camper, along with baby Martin, and we took a pull-out bed in the camper where Blake and Tina were staying, which was loads of fun. Grandma, Grandpa, and one of my cousins did the tent thing, and were a little flooded in the middle of the week, but were not bested by soggy bedding. I think I laughed all week long!

Josh and I also got to see his grandparents, two uncles, two aunts, and eleven cousins. One uncle, one aunt, and five more cousins would have made the trip complete.

We celebrated my parents' 25th wedding anniversary at the beginning of the week, which was very low-key and fun. I won't mix words; my parents are blessings, and I admire their love, even when marriage is tough. They have never pretended love is easy, but always savor the moments when love is sweet. Josh and I covet the examples of marriage our parents exhibit, and cherish the wisdom from those marriages.



Apart from family, we also got to see our favorite ballerina, Rebecka, one of my best friends who danced in our wedding. Her husband, Brett, was at a wedding in Ohio, so we missed him, but we relished our time with Rebecka. Brett and Rebecka just got a kitten, Chloe O'Brien, who was a ball of energy until I found her shut-off switch. I'm attaching a video simply because you have to see it to believe it!


On our way home, we stopped by Josh's grandparents' and Josh's uncle and aunt's, then attempted to drive through the night to meet up with another friend from OWU, Nate, who traveled with me my second summer on ministry teams, and who roomed with Josh his senior year.

That all-nighter was a miserable letdown. After trying to push through, we pulled over 30 miles from Nate's, and slept at a rest stop until sunrise, then met Nate for coffee in Gillette.

We drove through the night Sunday the 8th, pulled into Rapid City Monday afternoon, partied hard all week with games, sight-seeing, and Baby Martin, then drove further east to visit Rebecka, then back west Monday morning at 9:00, arriving safely in Kooskia Tuesday night around 11:00.

What a splendid week of vacation. But I'm pooped!


Martin's first tomato.


Two of my favorite boys!


My wonderful sister-in-law, Tina.


The cutest thug you'll ever see!


Grandma Karla and Grandpa Larry---married 51 years.


The Badlands.

Saying good-bye to my family was even more tearful this time, but, Christmas, I'm holding out for you!!!!

On the Other Side of the Desk

My classroom is set up. The chairs are arranged. The whiteboard has a welcome. My diploma and tassel are displayed. Quotes and pictures have found their place on my walls. I even have a small plant from when I worked with Alternative Nursing Services that is now living on the window sill, awaiting the inevitable death my black thumb is sure to bring.

My very own classroom. Wow.

I find myself eagerly waiting for students to fill that empty room. I anticipate discussions and essays. I chuckle quietly to myself as I imagine detention slips I'm sure to assign, and sport a Cheshire grin thinking of students who will spend those detentions cleaning in my classroom (thanks for the brilliant idea, Sandy!).

I don't want to be anything other than a teacher. I am proud of my profession, and humbled by that ministry.

I posted a quick blip on Facebook today as I headed out for my first day on the job. In-service at the district office...how nerve-racking! And the feedback from some of my dearest friends encouraged me in a way I did not anticipate.

It's a little strange to sit behind that big teachers' desk instead of standing in front of it, but the view is awesome.

Thanks for sharing in this journey with me.

Girl Power!!!

As a man, I often feel the need to assert my masculinity by doing things like moving heavy objects, or removing hot pots from the stove with my bare hands.

After this last Sunday, however, I must give it up for girl power... well, technically it was senior citizen lady power.

Many of our congregants this week were gone working at a church camp. Another family had relatives from out of town, and weren't able to be at church. Several others who come sometimes and not others didn't come this week. Put together all of those random things, and our church service had six members. Apart from Ashley and I, it was Jan (88), Janelle (70-ish), Alice (78), and Fern (88).

The other thing that was different about this past Sunday was that everything had to be picked up. EVERYTHING. We meet in a Jr. High cafeteria, and this week they've been resurfacing the floor, so all of our stuff had to be put away. Allow me to list all or our stuff.

- Stand-alone Projector Screen
- Sound System
- 50 Stacking Chairs
- 5+ Fold-Into-The-Wall Cafeteria Tables
- 10+ Fold-Into-The-Wall Cafeteria Benches

We thought it would take forever. We thought we would be there an extra hour cleaning up. We were leaving for vacation as soon as we were done, so we were ancy. We finished the service and started cleaning up. I got going with the sound system, and by the time I was done, so was everyone else - girl power. All of those ladies jumped in and helped - girl power. Ashley said that at one point she looked over and Fern had discarded her walker and was stacking chairs - girl power.

Men being manly can be useful, but I have learned this week to never underestimate girl power.

Treasures Aren't Always Monetary

Growing up is weird.

Take away phone bills, insurance, house payments, and grocery shopping...I officially think my parents are cool, as well as well-springs of knowledge and wisdom, and a few years ago, I thought they were clueless.

I just spent two hours with my mom on the phone, exchanging stories, laughter, and wisdom. That lady is my best friend, and I'm proud to say it. I remember a period during middle school when I didn't want to kiss her good-bye. I remember thinking "No one else kisses their mom!"

What I wouldn't give for the opportunity to kiss my mom and dad every day now. I should have treasured those kisses, even if they were a little embarrassing at the time.

Josh and I are gearing up for a whole week with my mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law, cute and cuddly nephew, grandma, and grandpa, and I am ecstatic! I will have to soak in every single hug and kiss as I prepare my heart for another season of separation. I'm so blessed to have Josh's family close. My world would just be perfect if my family were close, too.

Another weird aspect of growing up, I suppose.

Being a teenager does odd things to emotions and neuron processing, but this I have always known: my parents are blessings, and I take them for granted.

A friend from OWU once told me that every hug is stored in the heart. How true those words can be when every hug is a treasure.